Am I dead? Again? Fucking Braxton. I knew I should have hit him harder.
My thoughts wandered through an endless void, detached from pain or sensation. No body, no weight—just consciousness floating in a vast emptiness that felt strangely comfortable.
Like drifting in a warm ocean at night, except without the water. Or the night. Or anything tangible at all.
The darkness wasn't uniform, I realized. Faint wisps of color swirled in the distance—blues and purples that reminded me of nebulae in deep space photographs.
A soft golden light bloomed in the distance, growing brighter until it coalesced into a figure that approached with the casual confidence of someone who owned the place—which, considering where "here" was, she probably did.
The light around her pulsed with each step, as if the very fabric of this non-reality responded to her presence.
