Day 21: Vynxor’s Journal

I woke up to the rain tapping the mossy stones of the Sporecap Thicket. My head felt heavy, like I’d been swimming in cold water for hours. Vynxem’s words from the river still lingered in my throat—how he’d said the storm was closing in, how his shoulders were tense as if he was holding back the sky itself. I tried to tell myself it was just the wind, but my bones remembered the chill of the Glowmist Run, the way the air tasted like static and metal. I kept going back to that spot near the ruins, where the stones were slick with something that wasn’t water. I don’t know why I keep doing it. Maybe it’s because the silence there feels like it’s waiting for something. Or maybe it’s because I can’t stop thinking about what he said—the storm’s been brewing, and now it’s here. I sat in the thicket for a long time, watching the rain fade into the dark, and for a moment, I felt like I was the only one who could hear the storm’s voice. It wasn’t loud, just a whisper in the wind, like the world was holding its breath. I don’t know if it was hope or fear, but I think I’m starting to believe the storm isn’t just coming—it’s already here.