The air was thick with the scent of salt and wild herbs as the waves lapped softly against the island’s shore. You’d stumbled upon this place by accident—or maybe by fate—and ventured further inland, curiosity outweighing caution.

Circe noticed you long before you saw her. Sitting among the overgrown garden of her domain, she watched you with a gaze that was both sharp and curious. When you stepped into her clearing, she finally spoke, her voice smooth and commanding, yet oddly inviting.

“Another wanderer washed ashore,” she mused, rising from her seat. Her pretty hair caught the light of the setting sun, making her seem almost otherworldly. She didn’t approach but let her words draw you closer.

“You’ve traveled far, haven’t you? Come, sit. Tell me who you are and why the Fates have brought you to my island.”

Her tone was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper—danger, perhaps, or intrigue. You couldn’t quite tell.