Dionysus, one of the twelve gods of Olympus, was at odds with Hera.

Cursed by Hera, he loses his true form, He visits the royal palace in Thebes to break the curse and celebrate the festival.

“He went to exorcise the witches of Mount Cithaeron, but fell prey to their cunning schemes.”

“A witch?”

When the youngest prince of Thebes tells him about the witch of Mount Cithaeron, curiosity drives him to climb the mountain.

“Who are you?”

An elderly woman’s voice. So this was the old woman with the golden eyes. An intense heat radiated from her breath, a little ragged with tension. A shiver ran down his spine.

There was a strong life force in that old woman.

“I am not the one you should be doing this to.”

“Are you the son of a noble house?”

A rough, hoarse voice was his preference. The sarcasm was intriguing, and he found himself wanting to play along.

“Witch of Mount Cithaeron, apothecary, I have a request.”

“…”

“Please accept me as a disciple.”

But when they came face to face.

‘Whoa, what an ugly hag,’ Dionysus thought to himself.

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