Your vision slowly comes back only to show you the floor. Suddenly, you find yourself floating and twisting in the air; it's disorienting, but the ride quickly ends with a soft, grinding thud. You're still in the palace but you don't see the sorceress.
"I bet you're wondering what you turned into," you hear somewhere behind you. "Why don't I show you?" At the sorceress's finger snap, you find yourself surrounded by mirrors.
You are a statue.
A sculpture made of flawless marble. You can't help but look at every detail. Every little pore and body hair has been smoothed out. Even your mane has fused into a single mold. You stand on a small pedestal, completely naked in a sensual yet elegant pose. You don't seem to recognize your own face.
The sorceress stands behind you, eyes closed, her arms wrapped around you, her hands caressing your chest. It feels quite pleasant."I know you won't mind being shaped as a love affair I had in a dream once; after all, you did want to become material to shape after my desires. What can I say? I can be a bit of an artist sometimes."
She lets go of you. Somehow, you feel her slowly opening her eyes, and the more she opens her eyes, the more pleasure you feel. You can tell she's looking at you with pride and even trace how her gaze gently lowers from your upper back to your heels, around you until she's in front, and back up to your face.
"You enjoy how I'm looking at you, don't you? That's because you are now a work of art, an ornament, a decoration meant to be admired and appreciated." She grabs your face with both hands. "In my case, not just with my gaze."
She starts passionately kissing your non-responding lips. You'd be having a feeling of déjà vu if you weren't distracted by this pressure building up inside you. Each kiss gives you more pleasure than you've ever had, and it's piling up. You want to cry out so hard, you're afraid you might shatter.
Which you do; after a while, you start hearing cracking all over your body, a soft glow emanating from the fissures getting brighter. The sorceress doesn't notice until the glow becomes blinding and you crumble into a pile of rubble and dust. After enjoying release, you find you can still see and hear, and you see the sorceress standing over you, paralyzed in surprise and confusion.
"Oops," she said, regaining her regal composure with a mischievous chuckle, "Guess I got a bit carried away." With a wave of her hand, a soft wind carries every bit of you, reassembling you as if nothing happened.
"It's been an eventful evening, but it's time you get used to your new life a statue, decorating this hall forever, day and night. Maybe I'll have a ball just to show you off or find you a place where you'd look better, but for now, good night." She leans into your ear, whispers "Welcome to my collection," kisses your cheek, and leaves.
The mirrors vanish and the lights go out. You are now alone in the hall, the silver moonlight illuminating you like a spotlight. As you dream of the ball and the sorceress, you realize you need a name. When you decide on it, a plaque appears on your pedestal with the name you chose: "Allure."