I never turned anyone into a pig.

It is I, Circe, daughter of the sun, master weaver, divine authority over magic, the sorceress of
the island of Aeaea. My father’s daughters are sweet-tempered, luminous, and golden as the first
press of olives, and I am no different. That is, until you cross me.

Oh you have every right to be afraid: I learned that I could bend the world to my will with magic.
Some poets have even gone as far as to call me a witch. Funny, how some people brand women
who are powerful and sure of themselves witches. They are too used to the notion that women
are delicate creatures, fragile and can be crushed in a moment’s carelessness. If I had ever
believed it, I no longer did.

Drugs and herbs come easily for me, especially those with the power to work changes upon the
world. It is my affinity to be able to draw out their powers and use them to my advantage. I am
also blessed with the talent to convince people of anything with my voice. Even scarier; I can
turn anyone into a beast if I so desired, just like what I did with Scylla when Glaucus gave his
heart to her instead of me. So beware, all of you who listen, and even more so those who dare to
take the people I love, for my magic can turn you into unfathomable beings, and my words can
make you think things, make you feel things, make you ​do​ things.

Beyond my abilities, you might know me as the witch who turns men into beasts, keeps them
captive, and turns them docile. This might have come from the story of Odysseus, the king of
Ithaca. Oh, that man. He was a man who has seen the world, a captain with stories to tell. I loved
him for about a year; I even bore him three children. However, what people remember most
about me and Odysseus was when I turned his men into pigs. To tell you the truth, I never turned
anyone into a pig, not exactly anyway. I am sick and tired of your world: a world that lets the
outside disguise what’s inside. You see, some people are pigs; I simply make them look like the
beasts that they truly are. This is not to say that men are inherently awful, though I believe an
undisciplined life can turn them as such. In their true form, they sweetened right up under my
care. I even reversed the spell after, so I’m more benevolent than you think. Yet I knew that they
would leave eventually, no matter how gracious a host I am, for I can look into the future. But
oh, you think that would upset me? Silly mortals! Every sorceress is a pragmatist at heart;
nobody sees essence without facing limitation. If I wanted to hold anyone, I could’ve easily held
them prisoner. I am Circe, after all: daughter of the sun, ​witch of Aeaea. I am not the desperate or
greedy woman some make me out to be, but I’m not quite as nice as I look, either. You ought to
be very afraid.