The witch scares me more.

Ephraim took a deep breath, walking into the darkness beyond the door.

"Watch your step," she said, grabbing a nearby torch and following him. "There's some stairs not too far in."

Ephraim jumped as the door swing closed by itself, swallowing hard.

While the light of the torch did not travel as far as he would have liked, the Prince had no trouble finding and navigating the stairs.

He had never entered this place before, and the crushing darkness did nothing to ease his anxiety, but he pressed onwards until they reached another iron door.

Ephraim stepped aside as the witch approached the door. Producing her keys again, she began the process of unlocking it silently.

He held his hands behind his back, twiddling his thumbs as he waited.

As she finished, Circe turned back to the Prince, her glare back in place as she said, "What you are about to see, you must tell no one. Not even your mother."

Ephraim frowned. "I'm sorry, that sounds like-"

"Treason?" she asked, nodding. "It was her orders that got you down here to begin with."

The prince blinked. "So what is going on?"

"A dangerous game," she answered simply. "We do not know how many enemies we have, but we know they are here, in this castle. And when your father died, your family, especially you, became a very real threat to them."

"What does my father have to do with any of this?" he asked with a frown.

"King Silas was once their leader," she answered. "That much we know. I will tell you no more until I have your word. Tell not a soul, not even my apprentice."

Ephraim slowly nodded. "You have it. What must I do?"

Circe smiled once again, opening the door and stepping aside. "That," she said, "Is up to her."

Ephraim raised an eyebrow, walking into the room beyond.

As he did so, torches along the walls lit up by themselves, revealing a life sized statue of a beautiful woman reclining sideways on a couch.

She was nude, except for the blanket draped across her wide hips, and her breasts rivalled his mother's in size. She wore a playful grin and her long hair seemed to wave in an unseen wind. She held aloft a raven on one finger, and a bunch of grapes hung from the other, drooping over the edge of the couch.

Around the statue were thirteen pillars, each marked with a different symbol. Upon the one her eyes were locked on was a large, marble bowl filled with what seemed to be water, or clear oil, perhaps.

Ephraim's jaw dropped at the sight of her, and he felt his trousers becoming tighter. "She's..." he whispered.

"Gorgeous?" Circe finished for him, closing the door. "Of course she is."

"Who is she?" he asked, still staring at the statue.

"That," she answered, "Is Jocasta, Goddess of Love, Familial Unity, Female Empowerment, Pregnancy, and Sexual Freedom. She was once revered as the Queen of the Gods of Eros, and ancestor of your family."

Ephraim finally turned to Circe with a frown. "So why haven't I heard of her?"

Circe turned her gaze to the statue with a sad sigh. "Your father forbade her worship in favor of more... Masculine gods from Aurora. He tore down her temples and executed anyone caught with a shrine to her in their homes." She gestured around them and smirked. "Fortunately for us, he never found this one."

"And this was just hanging out in your lab?" Ephraim asked.

Circe chuckled, shaking her head. "The Court Witch has always been her High Priestess. While this was no secret to your father, he always was a superstitious coward. I think he got as close to invoking her wrath as he wanted to without having me assassinated. That, or he was frightened I'd come back to haunt him."

Ephraim nodded slowly. This checked out; he remembered Silas screaming in the night about ghosts and other such things.

"So," he said, clearing his throat. "What do we do now?"

Circe walked up to the marble bowl, motioning for him to follow. "Now, we present you before her."