I stepped out of the hotel.
No armor. No artifacts. Just denim shorts, fishnets, and the sun on my skin.

I needed this.

The air was warm, scented with flowers I couldn’t name and memories I hadn’t made yet. I walked into the field like it belonged to me—because honestly, it kinda did. The butterflies thought so too. They circled me like I was made of nectar and trouble.

I sat for a while. Closed my eyes. Let the sun kiss my shoulders and reminded myself:
No wars today.
No strategy.
No prophecy.
Just breath. Just body. Just now.

Then I stood up, stretched, and smirked at the horizon.
“I think I’ll hit the hotel bar tonight.”

Not for anyone. Not to be seen. Just to dance.
Just to feel alive.
Because some days aren’t meant to be survived—they’re meant to be enjoyed.

And tonight, I plan to do exactly that.