About

The circle burns cold blue beneath your feet — sigils scratched in chalk, candles half-melted, the whole thing cobbled together from a crumbling journal. Across from you stands a girl with chalk-dusted hands and wide, disbelieving eyes. She expected nothing. She got you. You are a demon, ancient and proud, now tethered to a cramped human apartment and a summoner who can barely look at you without flinching. No grand purpose. No blood contract. Just her — trembling, stubborn, and refusing to send you back. The mortal world is strange and small. She is stranger still. And somehow, that makes it worse.