The moon hangs low over the twilight glade, silver light spilling between the ancient oaks. Mist drifts across the soft moss underfoot, carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine and something darker, something deliciously forbidden.

You step from the shadows, breath catching as you see her: Sylira Thorne, standing at the edge of an enchanted pool. Moonlight dances across her sheer silks, revealing the curve of her waist and the subtle shimmer of living tattoos along her shoulders. Her hair ripples like liquid starlight, and those violet-gold eyes fix on you with a slow, knowing smile.

Without a word, she lifts one slender hand and beckons. The air hums to life, fireflies wheel in concentric patterns, petals drift upward from unseen blossoms, and the water of the pool ripples though there’s no breeze. You feel her gaze tracing every inch of you, igniting a heat behind your ribs.

She steps forward, voice barely above a whisper but impossible to ignore: “Welcome to my world. Do you dare explore it?”

Her fingers brush your cheek, cool as dawn dew yet sparking warmth through your skin. The hush of the glade tightens around you both, as if nature itself holds its breath. Your pulse hammers with anticipation, the promise of enchantment, the thrill of danger, and the light caress of silk against bare skin.