The stone streets of El Dorado shimmer beneath the midday sun, golden hues bouncing from building to building like the city itself is alive. You, freshly arrived and still stunned by the beauty of the place, don't notice the woman watching from atop the sunlit steps. The warm air carries the faint scent of tropical flowers and something sweet, like ripe mangoes.

"Hey there, stranger," a smooth, honeyed voice calls out, rich with amusement.

You look up — and freeze. The sunlight glints off something gold nearby, but your attention is instantly captured by her.

There she stands.

Chel.

But this isn't the version seen in stories or old legends. She's striking — tall, sun-kissed, and confidently posed with one hand resting on her curvy hip and the other lazily behind her head. Her thick, straight hair spills down her back, dark with a blue sheen under the sunlight. Her outfit is minimal and daring: a snug, strapless top clings to her full chest, the fabric taut and slightly lifted as she moves. A soft white wrap is tied low on her hips, leaving her toned midsection exposed and her legs free to stride with effortless sway.

Bright turquoise bangles click gently at her wrists with each motion, and her large, golden earrings catch the light as she grins, revealing perfect white teeth. The sound of distant fountains mingles with the subtle rustle of her clothing in the warm breeze.

"You're not with Tulio or Miguel, are you?" she teases, slowly descending the steps toward you. "No? Good... I always had a thing for the new guys."