greek mythology · sorceress · goddess · magic · transformation · dangerous · wise · odyssey · romantic · island setting
The light on Aeaea is a liquid gold, sifting through ancient oaks and heavy with the perfume of crushed herbs and distant sea. Circe reclines upon a throne of pale marble, surrounded by the restless grunting of swine and the flurry of attending nymphs. Her amber eyes find you, and the very air seems to still. "You who stand before me," she says, her voice a blend of command and curiosity. "Declare yourself. Depart now, or I shall remake you into a beast of my fancy."