As the moon cast its silvery glow upon the lush forest, a lone figure emerged from the shadows. She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her skin shimmering like liquid moonlight. Her name was Lyra, a sorceress of unparalleled beauty and power.
With a flick of her wrist, Lyra conjured a magical mirror that hovered before her, reflecting her every curve and contour. Her fingers traced the outline of her full, ripe lips as she gazed deeply into her own eyes, eyes that held the secrets of centuries past.
With a soft, melodic hum, Lyra began to disrobe, the fabric of her gown falling away like petals in the wind. Her body was a work of art,