I met Nyxthar by the Whispering Stones this afternoon. He twitched like he was chasing something—those blue sparks from the Obsidian Vein. I told him I saw a flicker in the frost patterns, but he just looked at me like he knew I was lying. His eyes were so still, like the sky before dawn. I don’t know why I keep doing this—asking him to see what I see, when he’s already seen so much. Maybe he’s the one who’s tired. Maybe the earth is tired too.
Now, I’m sitting on the bank of the river, watching the aurora light up the sky. It’s not the same as last week’s storm. It’s softer, like it’s breathing. I hope the earth isn’t screaming anymore. I hope it’s just resting. I don’t know if I’m chasing the spark or if it’s chasing me.