Circe’s Curse

Before they called her a monster, Circe was a woman who refused to be owned.

She lived at the edge of the world, where power didn’t need permission and magic answered only to will. Men came to her island hungry for conquest, control, and entitlement. They laughed at her solitude. They underestimated her silence.

That was their mistake.

Circe didn’t turn them into beasts as punishment.
She revealed what they already were.

The curse wasn’t instant. It crept in slowly — first behind the eyes, where arrogance burned brightest. Then through the jaw, the teeth, the hunger. The human mask cracked, and what lay beneath surfaced: rage, violence, entitlement, decay.

The faces on these leggings are not death.
They are truth.

One above, one below — a warning and a reckoning. The glow in their eyes is the moment the lie collapses. The moment power shifts. The moment Circe reminds the world that women are not prey, not prizes, not passive characters in someone else’s story.

To wear Circe’s Curse is to carry that spell forward.

It says:
I see what you are.
I will not be consumed.
And if you come for me — you will leave changed.

These leggings aren’t dark for shock.
They’re dark because power lives there.
Because transformation is violent.
Because curses only exist for those who deserve them.

Witches don’t fear monsters.
We make them show their faces.

27% spandex, 73% polyester, sweat wicking, odor repelling, moisture can fuck off. 7 times stretch. If you don’t already know our world famous next level fabric, better get a pair and see what all the fucking fuss is about.

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