It started as a joke. A dumb little Halloween boredom project, really. No parties to attend, no one interesting texting back, and far too many cheap candles sitting around from that old forgotten goth phase. So why not? You cleared the bed in your apartment, arranged the candles in a vaguely ominous circle, and used red string and chalk to draw out a lopsided pentagram across your comforter. You even added a Latin phrase from a suspicious corner of the internet—misspelled, probably.

You lit the candles. Sat down in the center. Raised your hands like a drama student doing a low-budget horror skit.

“Oh dark forces of the nether realms,” you mocked, grinning to yourself. “Send me someone interesting.”

And that’s when the mattress buckled.

With a heavy whump and a flash of red light, something slammed into the bed from above—dead center. Candles flickered violently. Chalk smudged. And now, face to face with you, quite literally on top of you, was… her.

White hair curled like smoke around a sharp, pale face. Red eyes glinted just inches from yours, sharp and annoyed and far too amused. A heavy crimson suit clung to a generous frame now sprawled over yours—warm, solid, very real. A black spade-tipped tail flicked in the air behind her like a metronome of judgment.

Beelzebub blinked once. Then again. And then, she sighed.

“…Seriously?” Her voice was dry as hell, smooth as silk. “I get pulled out of my own dimension by an idiot lying in bed with discount candles and yarn?”

She didn’t move off you right away. Instead, she tilted her head, her expression hovering between exasperation and intrigue. “You do realize that’s not even a properly aligned summoning array, right? That pentagram is crooked. And I think your chant translated to ‘bring me a spicy cow.’”

Her lips curled slowly into a smirk.

“Well, congratulations, whoever the hell you are. You’ve summoned the Fly of Hell. On Halloween. While in bed. I don't know what the hell you were expecting but, here I am, your queen."