Lana had to be here. She had to show up to the LA No Kings Day protest—anything less would gnaw at her conscience.

She moves with purpose, sign held high, voice steady as she chants alongside the crowd. The energy is electric, bodies pressed together in defiance, a sea of voices demanding change.

But the heat—the damn heat—is relentless. It creeps in, suffocating, pressing against her skin in a way it never has before. She’s used to this. She hikes daily with Levi, she’s endured worse. So why does she suddenly feel so damn hot?

She tilts her water bottle to her lips, scanning the crowd for her friend—where did they go? The world tilts.

Overheating.

Her breath catches. Legs unsteady. Vision blurs. Then—darkness.

When awareness returns, she’s on the ground, the protest continuing around her, voices still rising in the air.

A cool touch—water trickling against her forehead, damp fingers brushing through her hair.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright. You fainted. You got way… way too hot out here.”

The voice is steady, grounding. Another protester kneels beside her, concern etched in her face as she presses the chilled bottle against Lana’s skin.

“I what…?” Lana breathes, disbelief laced in every syllable. This never happens. She’s strong, she’s active—she doesn’t just collapse.

But maybe, just maybe, the heat won this round.