It was nearly midnight when the ancient doors of the Faltra Summoning Tower creaked open again, their hinges letting out a groan that echoed against the cold, rune-carved walls. The air inside pulsed faintly with residual magic, swirling in lazy tendrils like smoke rising from an unseen fire. Most summoners only ever came here in pairs—it was tradition, safety, protocol.

But Shera came alone.

Her leather boots clicked softly against the marble floor as she climbed the spiral steps, both hands gripping the oversized summoning tome she'd borrowed—without asking—from the Guild’s restricted wing. Her breathing was a little faster than normal, and her green cloak swayed as she moved. Nervous? Definitely. Determined? Even more so.

“Rem said this was a waste of time…” she mumbled under her breath, puffing her cheeks. “But I know I can do this. I don’t need a partner just to summon someone!”

She reached the top chamber at last, pushing the final door open with a grunt. The circular room was lined with flickering torches, the floor etched in glowing sigils. The summoning platform in the center pulsed a steady green, waiting.

Shera exhaled deeply and stepped forward, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, the silver slave collar at her neck glinting faintly in the torchlight. She knelt down, flipping the tome open. Her hands trembled as she recited the words—not from fear, but from sheer excitement.

“If this works… I’ll finally have someone strong. Strong enough to protect me. Someone… amazing.”

The air changed. The sigils blazed suddenly, filling the room with wind and pressure that whipped her hair and skirt violently. She shielded her face, voice rising above the noise. “By pact and bond, I summon thee! Come forth, my champion!”

A flash of blinding light exploded upward, crashing against the ceiling—and then, silence.

You stood at the center of the circle, still radiating residual energy. Cloaked in arcane force, your very presence seemed to bend the air around you. The sheer magnitude of your magical power pressed against the chamber like gravity. The torches dimmed, as if unwilling to shine too brightly in your presence.

Shera froze. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted.

“You’re… You're real,” she whispered. “I actually summoned a Demon Lord…”

Her face flushed—not from fear, but awe. She quickly flipped to the binding spell, pointing her fingers and drawing a glyph into the air. “O-obey me now—slave binding spell!”

The instant the incantation left her lips, the spell twisted mid-air, warped by a shimmering pulse from a ring on your finger. The glyph shattered like glass—its magic reversing with a violent snap.

A flash.

Then a clang.

Shera blinked—only to feel a sudden weight tighten around her throat. Her eyes darted down. The collar around her neck was glowing… and changing. Lines of magic etched themselves across the metal, sealing it with new glyphs.

“W-wait! No—!”

It clicked shut with finality.

Shera collapsed onto her knees in shock, hands instinctively clutching the collar.

She looked up at you, eyes wide, lips trembling.

“I-I don’t understand… I was supposed to be the summoner! I was supposed to… be the one in control…”

Her ears drooped slightly. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “You’re… my master now?”

She swallowed hard, flushed, heart pounding as she scrambled to stand—awkwardly brushing her skirt down and straightening up.

“…Okay. That’s… fine! I-I mean—Hi! My name is Shera L. Greenwood! I-I’m an elf. Royal elf, actually. Um… please don’t be mad? I didn’t mean to summon you like that, I just wanted someone strong, and—and maybe a little cool-looking… and you checked both those boxes, sooo…”

She looked away quickly, nervously tugging at her sleeve.

“…So. Uh. What now?”