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- Herausgeber: Isabelle Noir
- Kategorie: Erotik
- Sprache: Englisch
Dive into the seductive world of Crystal Mist, the latest masterpiece by Isabelle Noir. Lira, a curious cartographer, discovers a hidden rift in the world that leads her to Elyriaa realm of pulsing mist and glowing crystals. In the Shrine of Devotion, she encounters two Guardians whose touches and crystalline threads ignite her deepest desires. Amid light bondage and magical hallucinations, Lira becomes the mistress of her own lustbut the shrine demands a price. Will she surrender or master the magic? Mystical erotica meets dark passion in this sensual fantasy adventure that pushes the boundaries of imagination. Perfect for readers seeking intense mental cinema.
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Seitenzahl: 34
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Crystal Mist
Isabelle Noir
Chapter 1: The Call of the Mist
Lira stood at the edge of the world, where maps ended and reality unraveled. Elyria was no place she had found in her archives, no speck known to her compass’s needle. Yet here she was, enveloped by a mist that seemed alive, pulsing like a heartbeat, tickling her skin. Her cloak, heavy with moisture, clung to her shoulders, but it wasn’t the cold that made her tremble. It was something else—something lingering in the air like a promise she couldn’t grasp.
She was a cartographer, damn it. A woman who captured mountains and valleys in lines, who tamed oceans with strokes of ink. But Elyria defied her rules. The compass in her hand spun like a drunken dancer, its needle a chaotic game of north and nowhere. She had found the tear in the world—a shimmering rift in a cliff face, discovered during her last expedition in the ruins of Veyr. One step, one breath, and she had crossed through, into this world of mist and secrets.
The mist was dense, a milky veil that clung to her like a lover too long absent. It smelled of sweet resin, of moss, and something wild that sharpened her senses. Lira breathed it in, and her heart beat faster, a drumroll echoing in her veins. “Just a map,” she murmured, her voice a foreign entity in the silence. But it was more than that. She felt it in her bones, in the way her skin tingled as the mist brushed against her.
It began with a whisper, barely perceptible, like fingertips grazing the back of her neck. Lira froze, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at her belt, but there was nothing. Just mist. And yet it came again—a caress, gentle yet demanding, trailing down her spine and pooling deep in her core. “Who’s there?” Her voice cracked, swallowed by the heavy air. No answer, only a hum, low and melodic, like a song rising from the earth itself.
Her fingers trembled as she opened the pouch at her hip. Inside was the crystal—not an ordinary relic, but a flat disc, translucent like glass, with lines that glowed like veins. She had found it in Veyr, embedded in a wall covered with ancient glyphs. “Shrine of Devotion,” the script had whispered, in a language she half-understood. The crystal was warm in her hand, pulsing like a living thing. As she lifted it, it shimmered in sapphire and amethyst, its lines shifting, forming a path that led deeper into the mist.
Lira knelt, the ground soft beneath her knees. The mist thickened before her, shaping forms that seemed almost human—an outline that moved, then vanished. Her skin burned, not with pain but with desire. It was absurd, yet she couldn’t deny it. The mist knew something about her, something she hid in her lonely nights when her fingers slipped beneath the blankets, painting scenes she’d never admit aloud. Scenes of hands holding her, of lips finding her pulse.
“Show yourself,” she whispered, half challenge, half plea. The mist answered with a movement—a swirl that brushed her hips, so intimate she gasped. Her knees weakened, but she didn’t fall. Instead, she felt… it. A presence that enveloped her without touching her. A promise woven from mist and allure. Her fingers tightened around the crystal, and it glowed hotter, as if mirroring her longing. The lines within it traced a clearer path, a way to the shrine that beckoned in the distance.
Lira stood, her breath a visible wisp in the cold air. The mist closed around her like a curtain, but she no longer feared it. She wanted it. Wanted what it showed her, what it promised. Her lips curved into a smile, nervous yet hungry. “Then show me what you’ve got,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. She took the first step, the crystal in her hand, and the mist followed, a dancing shadow that wouldn’t let her go.
