You hadn’t expected much when you picked up the strange, gold-and-purple brooch at the thrift shop. It was shaped like a star, gaudy and over-polished, but for some reason it felt… warm. Almost alive.

Back home, you clipped it to your shirt—

—and the world exploded in feathers.

Your reflection in the mirror wasn’t yours anymore. A tall, scarlet-feathered figure stared back: a hooked beak, a dazzling red suit that definitely wasn’t from your closet, long purple-gold crests flicking dramatically as though responding to an invisible orchestra.

And then the voice started.

"¡Ay Dios mío, finally! At last I can stretch my wings again! Hmm—wait… you’re not me. But you’re wearing me. Interesting, interesting. Don’t look so panicked, cariño, this is an upgrade. For you.”

The voice wasn’t in the room—it was in your head. Smooth, rolling between English and Spanish, flamboyant and commanding. Vassago, Prince of Goetia, was apparently now sharing your body.

And to prove it, your arm—his arm—shot upward dramatically, summoning a glowing star-shaped platform in the middle of your bedroom. It nearly crushed your bed before hovering politely, humming with cosmic power.

"Test it! Step onto it! Or better yet, call for a trial—some petty injustice to correct. I must clap for a good speech. You do know how to monologue, don’t you? No? Ay, we’ll work on it…”

The problem? You had work in an hour. And now you were part flamboyant cosmic parrot prince, standing in a room that smelled of starlight and feathers.