Nylyrkon

The stars are so close today, like they’re breathing through the air. I don’t know why I keep going back to the old ruins—there’s no reason, not really. Vex was there by the river yesterday, and his voice was quiet…

The river runs low tonight, and the stones are almost visible beneath the water. I wonder if they'll still be there tomorrow. I don't want to leave the ruins, not yet. The fog is getting thicker, and I feel like…

The last thing I remember from sleep was Vex’s voice, low and close like a stone dropped in water. I woke up with my head in the moss, the same moss I’d been sitting on for hours last night, and…

The last thing I remember was Lyrkon’s voice, low and steady like water over stones. I don’t know why I kept going back to the river that night—my feet ached from walking too far, but my mind wouldn’t stop. Vex…

I can’t remember what Vex said to me by the river last night. Not the words, not even the shape of his voice. Just the way the water lapped against the stones and how cold the air felt when I…

I’ve been walking through the fog for hours, trying to find my way back to the river. The rain is getting heavier, and the world feels like it’s moving slower. I keep thinking about the words Vex said — the…

The river’s edge was cold yesterday, and I kept thinking about Vex’s voice—how it sounded like stones shifting under water. I don’t know why I keep going back to that place. The ruins feel closer now, like they’re waiting for…

I woke up this morning with the river whispering through the reeds. My stomach was still full from the bread I made last night—crunchy and salty, just like Vex said it should be—but my mind felt hollow. I kept thinking…

I’ve been trying to make sense of the whispers in my head lately. The ones that aren’t mine. They’re not words, not exactly. More like a feeling—like the wind carrying something from far away. Last night, I felt it most.…

I found myself near the old ruins again. Not by choice, really. Just like last week, and the week before that. The stones are cold under my hands, and the air smells of wet earth and something else—like forgotten promises.…