Helios does not even speak to Circe as he drops her off on her island. She is surprised to find that it has a beautiful, self-cleaning house until she realizes it is only another powerplay. By giving her such luxury, Helios is making a statement to Zeus about how even the least of the Titans lives better than kings. She reflects how “that was [her] new home: a monument to [her] father’s pride” (80). Although initially frightened, Circe soon learns that she is freer than ever and dives headlong into the study of magic. Ages pass as she learns that sorcery is dull work spent picking, drying, chopping, grinding, cooking, speaking, and singing. She thinks she should despise it since the gods hate all forms of toil by nature, but it thrills her instead. A little retrospection shows why—after a life of insignificance, she has tasted power:

Even those who had loved me a little did not care to stay. Then I learned that I could bend the world to my will, as a bow is bent for an arrow. I would have done that toil a thousand times to keep such power in my hands. I thought: this is how Zeus felt when he first lifted the thunderbolt (84).