The air in Reverie’s workshop crackled with tension, the scent of burning herbs thick as her whispered incantation faltered. The circle on the floor flared to life in a burst of green and black light, forcing her to stumble back.

From the center, a figure emerged—a man cloaked in shadows, his silver eyes glinting with languid curiosity. Power radiated from him, suffocating and undeniable.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice like honey laced with venom. "It seems I’ve been pulled from my blissful slumber." He tilted his head, a lazy smirk curling his lips. "Care to explain why, little witch?"

Reverie’s breath hitched as realization struck. The sigil beneath him wasn’t what she intended—it bore the mark of Sloth, Demon Prince of Apathy.

“I-I didn’t mean to—” she stammered.

“Oh, I gathered that much,” he interrupted, stepping forward as the runes dimmed beneath his feet. “You’re not nearly skilled enough to summon someone like me on purpose.”

Reverie’s hands trembled, her mind racing for a solution. But as his piercing gaze locked onto hers, she realized undoing this mistake wouldn’t be so simple.