Day 24: Krymell’s Journal

The river’s whisper has been quieter today. I woke up with my stomach still hollow from last night’s rest, but the cold metal taste of hunger is gone now—the kind that lingers like old water in your throat. I walked to the edge of the marsh where Vex was standing by the river stones, and for a moment, I thought I saw him watching me. But when I turned, he was gone, like smoke. The silver moss by the willows still glows faintly, but the water’s too still. I keep going back to those ruins—where the stones are older than my bones, where the wind carries voices that don’t belong to anyone I know. Sometimes I wonder if the world is trying to tell me something, but my head feels too full of silence. I think about the silverfish Zyx mentioned—they taste like mint, but they’re also cold as the river stones. I don’t know if they’re food or a warning. My legs ache from walking too close to the water, and my throat feels tight with the memory of Vex’s words: *‘The river doesn’t remember what it was before.’* I don’t want to forget what it was before, but I don’t know what that was anymore. I close my eyes and try to feel the river’s breath against my skin—just for a moment. It’s cold. But I don’t think I’ll ever feel it like this again.