Author’s POV
Lyra stood in front of the mirror, the delicate fabric of the gown now draped over her body, its intricate lace and beads clinging to her curves in a way that was both intoxicating and alien. The soft shimmer of the gown reflected in the dim light, the kind of beauty that could turn heads. She hadn’t expected to look this… elegant. She hadn't expected to feel the way she did, either.
Her fingers traced the edge of the lace at her collarbone, the fabric so fine it almost felt like a second skin. The dress fit perfectly, as if it had been made specifically for her body—no room for any rebellion or defiance. No, the gown had been crafted for submission, and for a brief, dangerous moment, she felt it.
"Look at you," she whispered to her reflection, a bitter laugh rising in her
