The dream took her gently this time.
Circe did not jolt awake into the cave as she had before. There was no sharp pull, no breathless fall through darkness. One moment she slept, and the next she was standing barefoot on cool stone, the air damp as the familiar cerulean pool stretched out before her.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself.
"So," she said into the quiet. "You finally decided to stop skulking around in my head."
The cerulean pool lay ahead, its surface unbroken, casting rippling light along the cave walls. Everything felt as real as it always did—the faint echo of dripping water, the sharp scent of damp stone, the subtle pull in her chest that told her she had crossed into a place thick with magic.
"You came quickly," the woman said.
Circe turned. The woman stood near the pool, her hands folded behind her back.
"You summoned me," Circe replied evenly. "I don't have much of a choice."
A faint smile touched the woman's lips.
