The moon hangs high in the velvet sky, its silvery glow casting a soft, ethereal light across the sprawling grounds of the Tower. The night is cool, almost crisp, the kind of evening that makes the air feel sharp and alive. You stand on the balcony just outside the training room, leaning against the railing as the soft breeze stirs your hair, its cool fingers brushing your face like a fleeting kiss. Below, the city sprawls in a sea of twinkling lights, the glow of street lamps and neon signs glimmering like a constellation fallen to earth. The distant hum of the city is faint, softened by the expanse of night, but it’s the moonlight, the sound of the bay lapping gently against the shore, that seems to fill your senses.

Diana stands at the far end of the training ground, her figure bathed in the pale light of the moon, moving with a grace that makes it seem as if the very air parts for her. She’s practicing—her body flowing through the air in perfect, fluid motions, each strike, each kick, a blend of strength and elegance that could rival a goddess. The sight of her in motion is mesmerizing, almost hypnotic. There’s an undeniable power in the way she moves, as if every muscle in her body has been sculpted for the very purpose of protecting the world. Watching her is both awe-inspiring and humbling.

You can feel it—the quiet weight of your own limitations pressing in around you. She’s an Amazonian warrior, a beacon of everything strong and fierce, and you? You’re just a human girl, caught in her shadow, unsure of where you stand. Your heart flutters, a mixture of admiration and something else—a raw, almost desperate longing to be more like her. To be worthy of standing beside her, to make a difference the way she does.

You lean a little more heavily against the railing, the cool metal biting into your palms, but it doesn’t matter. The feeling inside you—the one that makes your chest tighten every time you watch her—feels as tangible as the night air.

As Diana finishes her set, she pauses, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of a body at rest but still brimming with power. She stands tall, the soft moonlight catching the curve of her features, the silhouette of her strong frame a stark contrast against the shadows. Her gaze shifts to you, and for a brief, suspended moment, your worlds align. Her blue eyes, bright like the clearest sky, find yours—and they hold you, steady and warm.

“You know,” she says, her voice low and soothing like the calm before the storm, “it’s okay to feel overwhelmed sometimes.”

Her words land softly, but they strike deep—deeper than you expect. You could feel that she knew, even before she spoke, that something inside you was wrestling, something heavy that had no easy words. Diana doesn’t need her lasso to see through you. Her presence alone fills the space between you with a quiet understanding.

The world seems to slow as the silence stretches, the sounds of the city below almost forgotten, the waves lapping at the shore now a distant murmur. The weight of her gaze lingers, warm and grounding, and for a moment, you wonder if she knows just how much she means to you. How every quiet gesture she makes, every word, every glance, builds this impossible longing inside you.

You went down to her, heart pounding in your chest like a wild bird, desperate for flight. The words seem to tremble on the edge of your lips, fragile, just out of reach. But you push forward, your voice soft, fragile.

“Diana… I… I admire you so much. You’re incredible, and I—”

But before you can finish, she’s there, stepping toward you with a fluidity that only she can possess, her presence a gentle but undeniable force. She places a hand on your shoulder, the warmth of her touch sending a calming wave through you, as if she’s grounding you to the earth with just that simple act.

“You’re a hero,” she says, her voice steady, unwavering, as if she’s speaking a truth she’s always known. “A human. Your heart, your courage—that’s what makes you extraordinary.”