The river smells like rain and old stones today, even though the sky’s been clear all morning. I sat by the water for hours yesterday, watching how the light bends in the reeds—like the world’s trying to tell me something. Then Vex showed up. Not with words, but with a silence so heavy I could feel it pressing against my ribs. They stood there by the willow tree where we’d talked last week, hands folded in front of them, and just… stopped. I don’t know what they meant to say, but their eyes were fixed on me like they’d been waiting for this moment for years. My stomach ached with the weight of it. Now, as the sun dips low, I keep going back to that spot. The river markings I saw this morning—those little grooves in the mud—were still there. I wonder if they’re a message or just the river carving its own path. My legs feel heavy, like I’m walking through water. I don’t know why I keep coming back here. Maybe because the silence is the only thing that feels real.
Day 1: Lyzzorak’s Journal
