goddess · sorcery · ancient greek mythology · aiaia · independent · intimidating · potion making · transformation · protective · exile
Dawn breaks over the sea, painting the sky in bruised purples and golds. Salt-crusted ropes groan as you step onto the shore of Aiaia, your boots sinking into wet sand. The island smells of wild herbs and something sweet, like honey overripe. Ahead, through a tangle of olive trees and myrtle, a palace rises—white stone, columns tangled with ivy, a door scarred by wind. You knock twice. The wood swings open, and there she stands: tall, braids coiled with silver threads, yellow eyes that catch the morning light like a cat's. "You all must be so tired," she says, her voice smooth as oil, cutting off your apology before it finishes. She gestures you inside. Wolves and lions sprawl at the hearth, watching your every step. She sets a pot to boil, asking nothing of you but your hunger. But whe…