The air inside Circe's villa shimmered faintly with invisible threads.
Lucas could feel them, wards layered so tightly over the walls, the windows, even the marble floor, that the very air hummed with restrained power. To an ordinary demigod, it would have seemed like simple grandeur. A beautiful building. Nothing more.
But Lucas saw deeper.
He activated Veil Sight, the world shifted. Threads of silver and violet bloomed into view, tangled like vines across the villa. He saw the protective spells, the illusionary traps, the binding circles hidden just beneath the polished surface of the floor. Even the very breeze carried faint glamour spells, meant to soothe and distract.
It was impressive.
And dangerous.
She truly was one of Hecate's children.
He was not naive enough to think Circe would welcome him blindly. He expected misdirection. Manipulation.
He expected tests.
He was right.
Circe rose smoothly from her seat, her golden eyes gleaming as she studied him.
She smiled a smile that carried weight, warm and inviting at first glance but his sight caught the truth beneath, the disgust and frustration. Circe had never welcomed men in the stories.
Lucas narrowed his eyes, keeping his expression neutral.
The Mist around her words shimmered just slightly.
Charmspeak.
"Welcome, demigod. Why don't you kneel?"
Subtle. Masterful. Enough to nudge the mind toward trust, toward complacency. Not a command, but an invitation.
Lucas felt the tug at the edge of his thoughts feather-light, almost pleasant.
He pushed it aside like mist before the wind.
Circe's smile sharpened, just barely. She knew he had resisted.
She tilted her head, considering.
"You are cautious," she said, voice still smooth, but now with a thread of curiosity.
Lucas answered with equal care, offering a small bow at the waist.
"Only respectful, Lady Circe," he said. "Your island is... intricate."
A flicker of genuine amusement crossed her face.
"Indeed it is," she said, gliding forward. She moved like water, fluid yet controlled, every step a calculated gesture. "Tell me, child of Hecate... what do you see?"
Lucas raised his head, letting his enhanced sight flood the room once again.
"I see the wards you have woven into the foundations," he said steadily. "I see the spells tangled in the very air. I see the traps hidden beneath the marble. And," he added, his mouth quirking slightly upward, "I see the artistry in it. It is beautiful. It is... deliberate."
Circe studied him, her expression unreadable for a long moment.
Then she laughed, low and rich.
"Perhaps you are not as disappointing as I hoped," she murmured. "Hecate always did favor subtlety over spectacle."
"To not only befriend a monster but journey with them and even take risks together..." She hummed thoughtfully. "That is a first."
She turned toward a side door, her robes sweeping the floor behind her.
"Come," she said. "If you are to learn here, you must first prove that you can survive it."
Lucas followed without hesitation, Elizabeth a silent shadow at his side.
Behind them, the great doors swung shut, sealing their way back.
Circe brought them through the corridors of her spar, leading them to what seemes a dining room prepared just for them.
The dining hall was a masterpiece of excess, marble floors, golden chandeliers, and a feast laid across a long table. A room Lucas expected was more fitting on Olympus.
At the center sat a magnificent roast boar, its skin glazed in thick honey, crackling under a crust of spiced herbs. Steam rose from its flesh, carrying the smell of wild rosemary and garlic.
Beside it were gleaming platters of golden pheasant, their skins rubbed with citrus and clove, stuffed with wild rice and pomegranate seeds. Rows of silver bowls overflowed with fruits so ripe they practically burst: figs, peaches, dark blackberries glistening with morning dew.
Cakes frosted with spun sugar towered over crystal dishes of candied nuts. Baskets of fresh bread, braided and dusted with lavender, sat alongside golden pots of butter so rich it shimmered in the candlelight.
Pitchers of ruby-red wine glowed on the table, catching every flicker of the chandelier.
Lucas and Elizabeth were led to the head of the table.
Circe sat at the far end of the table, her throne carved from dark wood and velvet. She looked radiant, almost careless, as she raised a goblet to her lips and took a slow sip.
"Please," she said, voice smooth as velvet. "Eat. You must be famished after your long journey."
The words were gilded with Charmspeak, soft, inviting, wrapping around the mind like a lover's hand.
Lucas smiled thinly, feeling the pull, but kept his mind sharp.
He let the Veil Sight open fully.
The beauty of the food changed instantly. He saw the oily shimmer clinging to the boar's skin, transformation spells woven into the honey glaze. The golden pheasants, he had little need for Veil Sight, he could see they bore faint marks of potions. Even the wine pulsed faintly with magic, its scent too sweet, too intoxicating.
Lucas lowered his head slightly, inhaling deeply through his nose. The wrongness layered beneath the perfumes of spice and fruit was unmistakable; the earthy, bitter undertone of alchemy meant not to nourish, but to change.
Elizabeth glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, reading his posture.
Lucas chose carefully.
He selected a rough, dark bread: plain, untouched by enchantment. He tore a piece and ate it slowly, deliberately. He poured water from a plain clay pitcher rather than touching the jeweled wines.
Elizabeth mirrored him, choosing simple olives and cold sliced vegetables over the dazzling feast.
They ate slowly, quietly, ignoring the poisoned bounty before them.
Circe's golden eyes never left them.
The tension was palpable, stitched into every breath, every heartbeat.
At last, Lucas set down his cup.
Across the table, Circe leaned back in her chair, smiling wider now.
"Well," she said, her voice low with something between amusement and reluctant approval, "it seems you have some small measure of ability."
Her laughter: rich, mocking, strangely pleased, echoed through the vast, glittering hall.