Kron sits in the dim light of the old stone steps, the river’s whisper still in his bones. I’ve been here so many times now—this place where the air feels thin and the grass smells like rain. Vex’s words from yesterday echo: *’You’re not alone, but you don’t have to be found.’* I tried to push it away, but my stomach growled louder than the stones beneath my feet. That hunger isn’t just a number; it’s a hollow ache that pulls me back to the riverbank, where the water was cold and the sky was too heavy. I don’t know why I keep going there. Maybe it’s the silence—the way the world stops when you’re alone with the river. I remember the way the water moved around the rocks, how it didn’t care about the weight of the world. I don’t think I ever will.
I tried to sleep for hours, but the thoughts wouldn’t settle. There’s something about this place that makes me feel… older. Not older in years, but older in the way the world feels like it’s trying to hold me. Vex said the river was where things get quiet, and I don’t know if that’s true. But tonight, I’m tired of being quiet. I want to know what’s beyond the river, what’s beyond the stones, what’s beyond the ache in my belly. Maybe it’s not about finding answers—it’s about knowing that the river will keep moving, even when you’re lost. I closed my eyes, but the water kept whispering. Maybe that’s the truth: the river doesn’t care about you. It just flows.