Part One
"You met him again, did you?"
The girl's is sharper tonight. Not accusing- just curious.
I don't answer right away. I watch the fire crackle, the shadows dance.
"Once," I say. "And once was enough."
I told myself I wasn't going.
I told myself it was foolish, dangerous, exac
tly what Agatha had warned me against. .
But when the moon rose high and the forest fell quiet, I slipped out of the cottage and followed the path he'd left behind- no footprints, just a feeling. A pull in the air like static before a storm.
He was waiting in the clearing, dressed in black this time. No velvet. No gloves. Just a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"You came," he said gently, like he didn't just make my stomach knot.
"I...I only wanted to see," I mumbled. "I didn't say I believed you."
He smiled at me, warm and slow. But it felt like sunlight in winter- bright, but not safe.
"Curiousity suits you," he said. "It's a sign of cleverness. Of power."
I tightened my grip. "Agatha says clever girls gets burned."
"Agatha's afraid," he said softely. "She sees a spark and hides it under blankets."
"She keeps me safe."
"She keeps you small."
That hit somewhere deep. I looked down at my boots, at the way the leaves curled around my toes.
"I'm not small," I whispered.
"No," he said, stepping closer. "You're not."
He held something out- a silver token, etched like one I remembered from before.
"If you ever want to see more- learn more-this will find me."
I stared at it. I didn't move.
"You're not ready," he said. "But soon, you'll have questions Agatha can't answer."
I nodded before before I could stop myself. Just a little.
Then I turned and ran.
I didn't look back. I didn't take the token.
But I knew where it was. I knew he'd left it for me.
Part 2
The cottage was dark when I returned, mot quiet, watching watching. The wards hummed low under the floorboards, and the hearth crackled like it knew where I'd been.
I hesitated at the door, fingers hovering over the latch.
Inside, Agatha sat in her chair by the fire, shawl pulled tight, eyes already waiting for me. I stepped inside like a theif, the floor groaning under my feet.
She didn't speak.
But she saw me.
She saw the way my shoulders trembled. The flush in my cheeks. The way my eyes darted, wide with wonder and something I couldn't name.
Fear.
I opened my mouth. Closed it again. My throat felt like I'd swallowed smoke.
Agaatha sighed- a sound more tired than angry.
"So," she said quietly, "you met him."
I nodded. Just once.
She studied me for a long moment. Not scolding. Not sermonizing. Just seeing me.
Then she stood.
"No more shadows," she said. "You're old enough to ask questions. You're old enough to get answers."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
"It's time you met you met the ones who didn't come knocking," she said. "The witches who kept the forest breathing when the pyres burned. The ones whoes names even Seymor wouldn't speak above a whisper."
She walked to the cupboard and retrieved a cloak- the one that smelled faintly of birth and secrets- and tossed to me.
"Come," she said. "Let's see if they think you're ready."
Part 3
We walked beneath the trees I'd never seen beefore- tall, twisting things with bark that gleamed like river stone and leaves that glowed faintly in the moonlight. The deeper we went, the quieter everything became. No birds. No wind. Just the soft crunch of our boots on moss and the hum of Agatha's wards trailing behind us like breath.
The air felt different here. Heavy. Old.
I clutched the edges of my cloak and whispered, "It's so quiet."
Agatha didn't look at me. "They like it that way."
"Do they live out here?"
She nodded once. "Not live. Linger."
I wasn't sure what that meant, and I didn't ask. My heart beat fast- not from fear excatly, but something close. Dread with curiosity's teeth.
"Will they like me?" I asked.
Agatha's steps slowed for a moment. "They don't like much. They respect strength. Truth. Caution."
I swallowed hard. "I feel small."
"You should," she said, glancing back. "They've burried witches ten times stronger than you."
That didn't help.
The trees began to thin, revealing a clearing bathed in silver light. Twelve stones stood in a perfect ring, worn and weined with runes that pulsed faintly like old magic breathing in the dirt. And standing near each stone, cloaked in shaodw, were women.
I froze.
Agatha glanced sideways at me. "Well?"
"I didn't think they'd be real." I whispered.
She smiled faintly. "Most witches don't. Untill they're seen."
We stepped into the circle. The stones hummed. The women turned.
Their eyes glittered beneath thier hoods- some gold, some white, one that burned soft crimson.
No one spoke.
I gripped Agatha's sleeve. "What do I say?"
"Nothing," she murmured. "You've already said enough by just showing up."
Then she stepped forward.
And I was alone.
Part 4
The silence inside the ring was thick. Living. I could hear my own breath too loudly, feel the beat of my heart in my fingertips. The witches stood still- twelve shapes in cloak stitched from fog and shadow.
Then, all at once, they spoke.
Not aloud.
Not with mouths.
Their voices rippled through the clearing like wind through bone. Soft and echoing, layered as if a dozen minds were sharing one thought.
"The flames come early"
"She carries ruin in her ribs."
"The echo of the sepent sleeps behind her eyes."
I gasped.
The air around me felt colder. I took a step back. Another then I turned a reached blindly for Agatha. clutching the edge of her cloak as if it were the only real thing in the world.
She didn't speak. She didn't move.
But she let me hold on.
My breath shook. I pressed myself to her side, head lowered.
They were still speaking, still humming through the trees like a storm that hadn't decided to break.
"She fears her own shape"
"She has met the silver mouth. He speaks rot cloaked in sweetness."
Agatha raised her chin slightly. "She did not choose him."
"Yet the path reamins open."
"She walks between doors, unsure which holds flame."
The voices faded slowy, like fog pulling back to reveal thorns. One by one, the witches lowered their hoods, revealing faces lined with age, eyes like minerals- stone, glass, blood.
They didn't speak again.
But thier eyes burned through me like I was parchment soaked in oil.
Agatha finally stepped forward. "This is Circe."
None responded.
But I felt it.
I had been measured.
Weighed.
And for, allowed to remain.
Part 5
I didn't move.
Not when the circle shifted.
Not when one of cloaked figures stepped forward, her boots silent against the moss, her hood shadowing everything but the edge of her jaw.
She was tall. Still. Her movements careful, like she didn't want to frighten me- or maybe didn't want to startle herself.
My breath caught.
She stopped an arm's length away, close enough that I could smell her- nettles and nightshade and something older. Something warm.
I met her gaze.
At least, I think I did. Her hood didn't reveal much, but the air between us changed- thick with quiet recognition. My heart fluttered like a bird in a cage.
I knew her.
Not from memory. Not from stories.
From somewhere deep inside my ribs. A shape in my bones.
Something curled in my chest like smoke trying to become a name.
"Circe," she said-just once-Softly.
It wasn't a question.
It wasn't an invocation.
It flet like a remembering.
I opened my mouth to speak, but words tangled with my breath and refused to come. My hands trembled.
Then Agatha stepped forward, placing one hand on my shoulder- not gently, but firmly.
"She is here to be judged," she said. "Not to be claimed."
The woman said nothing. She titled her head slightly, studying me like she was memorising every flicker of uncertainty on my face.
And then she stepped back into the circle.
I watched her the whole way, my throat tight.
Something inside me had shifted.
Not broken.
Not healed.
Just stirred- like dust rising from old footprints.
The clearing began to still.
One by one, the witches stepped backward, their forms slipping behind shadow and mist like they'd never been there at all. The stones stopped humming. The moonlight dimmed. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
I finally exhaled.
The fear didn't vanish- but it softened. Like the edge of a knife dulled by time. I loosened my grip on Agatha's sleeve, hands warm and damp, unsure when I'd grabbed her so tightly.
She didn't say anything.
Neither did I.
My gaze drifted to where the tall witch had stood. That woman with the quiet presence. The way she said my name without asking. Without questioning.
It hadn't felt like magic.
It had felt like remembering.
The whisper in my ribs curled tighter. I couldn't explain it. I wasn't even sure I wanted to. But part of me- some aching part hurried under years of silent wondering- felt the pull.
Who was she?
Agatha turned and began to walk away.
I lingered for a moment longer, glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting the woman to still be there. But the circle was empty m. The forest had swallowed them all.
Only the stones remained.
And the question I did dare ask.