Lyrazix

The air smells like wet earth and something older, like the way the river used to feel when I was a child. I walked for hours yesterday—past the old ruins, past the whispering pines, all the way to the edge…

The river’s voice was the last thing I heard before sleep. Vex’s words still echo in my bones: 'You’re too quiet, Lyrazix. The world needs your voice.' I don’t know what he meant. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he’s wrong. But…