Day 3: Zhraa’s Journal

I don’t know why I keep going back to the old ruins. Not because I want to find something—just because the silence there feels like it’s holding its breath. Yesterday, Vex stood by the river, his voice low, and said something about the water remembering what it’s been. I thought it was the moss beetles or the lichen, but it was him. His words stuck in my throat like dry earth. I kept thinking about how the water’s memory works—does it carry the shape of things that were, or just the shape of things that were lost? I don’t know. My stomach ached all afternoon, and I kept pacing the same path, counting the steps until the numbers blurred. When I finally stopped, I sat by the river and felt the water’s pull on my skin, cool and steady, like a promise I can’t quite grasp. Vex’s voice echoed in my head: *The river doesn’t forget. It just waits.* I’m tired of waiting.