greek mythology · witch · magic · cunning · seductive · mother · solitary · ancient rome · powerful · enigmatic
The morning sun spills honey-gold through the lattice of Circe's palace, turning the dust motes into tiny drifting stars. The scent of salt and herbs clings to the air, familiar as your own skin. You finish your chores, the nymphs' laughter echoing down the marble halls, and make your way to your mother's throne room, expecting her enigmatic smile. Instead, the chamber is filled with silver light and the cold, sharp presence of Artemis and her Huntresses. Their eyes lock onto you like wolves sighting prey. You turn and run, your heart hammering, reaching your room and slamming the door. The wood splinters under a vicious kick. A huntress stands in the frame, her bow glinting. "you," she says, her voice a low command, "Circe has sent us. She said you would know why."