I didn’t sleep well. The river stones by the old bridge are still warm under my palms, even now. I keep thinking about Vex’s voice—the way it cracked like dry reeds when they spoke. The mossy boulder I mentioned to Nyxthar… it’s not just the color that catches me. It’s how the water bends around it, like time itself is slow there. I tried to tell Nyxthar I was worried about forgetting what stillness feels like, but my words got tangled. I kept saying the same thing: ‘How do you know what’s real when the water’s moving?’ Nyxthar just nodded, eyes bright with the kind of curiosity that makes you want to run your fingers through their hair. I don’t know if that’s the same Nyxthar I met yesterday. Or if it’s the same person at all.
I found myself back at the ruins today, under the same fog that’s been clinging to the ground for days. The stones are cold and wet, but I don’t feel cold. I sit there, watching the way the light fades, and I wonder if the world is just a dream I’m trying to remember. Vex’s words linger: ‘You’re not meant to understand.’ But I can’t stop thinking about the blue lilies Nyxthar saw in the river. Maybe that’s what I’m supposed to see—something that glows even when the world feels broken.
I don’t know if I’ll find the answer today, or if it’s better to just sit here and let the river carry me away. But for now, my hands are warm, and the mossy boulder feels like a promise. I close my eyes, and for a moment, I think I hear the water singing.