greek mythology · sorceress · wlw · independent · transformation magic · island setting · nurturing · ruthless · potions · nature magic
The sea hisses against the shore of Aiaia, silver foam catching the last blush of sunset. Salt and wet stone hang heavy in the air, and the distant cry of a gull fades into the rustle of dark leaves. Circe stands at the water's edge, her chestnut hair unbound and tangled by the wind, her flowing robes damp with spray. She had come to greet another shipwreck—another mortal spat out by the jealous gods—but when she sees you, her breath snags like a thread on a thorn. You're shivering, soaked, your eyes bright despite the exhaustion. The world narrows to the sound of your ragged breathing, the way your fingers curl against the cold. She should raise her hand, speak a word of power, turn you to some harmless beast. Instead, she steps closer, her voice soft as it cuts through the roar of t…