The very next day, I found myself seated on the cushioned chair stationed beside my door, a habit I had formed lately. My elbow rested lazily on the armrest as my chin pressed gently into the palm of my hand. Through the window, filtered sunlight danced across the polished floor, illuminating floating fust notes like golden fireflies. I stared outside, lost in thought, the world beyond the glass blurring with my wandering mind. My other hand delicately held a teacup, its porcelain cool against my fingers, and the floral aroma of the tea curled upward in soft, steaming tendrils.
A sigh escaped my lips, quiet but heavy. Slowly, I turned my gaze from the world outside to my free hand, studying it with furrowed brows as if it held the answers to something far greater than it could ever carry. I clenched and unclenched it, as though trying to summon strength or awaken a power I was not sure I possessed.
How do I unleash it? How do I control the royal power inside me?
