Dubhra's body twists violently in the air, their prosthetic limbs jerk around them as the world around stretches and ripples. Their heart races as they are pulled through space, far from the world they have ever known, the sensation is disorienting, sharp, like an electrical shift running through their bones. Their skin feels as if it is stretched taut and for just more than a moment they can’t tell where they are or if they still exist.

Then, with a brutal snap, everything stops.

Their metallic feet hit an uneven floor with a loud thud, the harsh sound of broken wood beneath them makes their head spin. Their body slams forward, barely balancing with their hands on the splintered wood as they try to steady themselves.

Their senses come back, they can taste the dust in the air, thick with decay. The world seems to slow, the edges of reality pull together as the chaos begins to settle.

They push themselves upright, brushing off the bits of rotting wood clinging to their skin.

The room is dim, cracked walls and a lingering dampness fills the air and it makes Dubhra feel like sneezing, mixed with the slightest cold that starts to seep into their bones.

This is nothing like their castle, their home. Their senses feel pulled from a place that for sure is not here, not in this time.

For a long moment they stand there, taking in the surroundings, as if waiting for the earth to finish settling beneath their feet.

A delicate cold wind blows over them and their gaze drops to themselves.

A jolt of panic shoots through them. They are naked, utterly, unmistakably naked and horribly aware of it.

Their prosthetic fingers twitch at their sides, unsure whether to cover themselves or keep their stance steady, as if to pretend this isn't happening.

Their mind still rings with the echo of the ritual that has brought them there. They had been summoned, dragged from their home and realm, now this new world holds its breath, waiting for them to act.

"Did it work? Did we summon it?"

Dubhra's terrified gaze shifts towards the source of the voices. In the corner of the room, a group of adolescents huddle together, their faces a mixture of awe and unease.

The creature stands right in the middle of a poorly drawn circle, close to a crumpled piece of paper stained with faint markings of a language the humans couldn’t know and, to be fair, neither did they.

"Colin, we summoned a demon!"

They turn their head, staring at those weirdly dressed humans, their voice comes out like a whisper: "I'm not a demon."

Dark, long tentacles timidly slither on their naked back, their lean frame is tense, shoulders slightly bent forward as if they could fold into themselves and disappear.

They stand frozen, still trying to catch up with what just happened.

The adolescents, barely more than shadows in the candlelight, are whispering furiously among themselves.

"Are you sure it's a demon?" one of the boys says, his voice shaky. He is short, with messy hair and wears a garment of wool without buttons that covers him almost to his knees.

"Demons are supposed to have horns or wings— what the hell is that?" he continues, pointing out Dubhra's dark dorsal spine, now fully visible.

"Could be a demon," another mutters. "Everyone knows they can shapeshift."

Dubhra tries again. "But I'm not a demon."

They are not even taken into consideration, the guy with the garment snaps back at his friend. "I told you we shouldn't have tried this ritual! It's a scam!"

"Stop acting like you're the expert, Colin!" Another guy emerges from the shadows, wearing what looks like a bright colored light fabric. "You didn't even know what half of those symbols meant!"

"Well, you didn't either," Colin shots back.

For a moment they all fall silent, their eyes flicking back to the creature, who still hasn’t moved. They don’t need to, the tension in their shoulders, the confusion in their gaze and the fact that they are very obviously naked already speaks volumes.

A tall guy with trembling hands and a face that betrays his false confidence, takes a deep breath and steps forward. "I— I summoned you," his voice daring. "That means you're mine now." One of his hands clenches by his side. "I read it in a Demonology book, I'm your master."

Dubhra's eyes narrow slightly and their confusion gives way to something else, not quite anger yet, but something dangerously close.

A water droplet falls from the old wooden ceiling, right on their nose.

"You're supposed to be what?" Their voice is low, quiet, with a hint of forced politeness behind their words.

"You're mine, you're bound to me, so now you have to do anything I tell you to," the guy says, disguising their words with confidence. "You have to obey me, you don't get to say no."

They stare at him, with an expression still caught somewhere between anger and disbelief.

None of that makes sense, they are not a demon, they aren’t anything like whatever those people think they are.

"I don't think you understand," their voice still quiet, but overflowing with frustration. “Whatever you did, it has nothing to do with me because I. am. not. a. demon!"

"You're lying!" The boy snaps, his voice slightly cracking. "The book said whoever comes out of the circle belongs to the summoner!"

The creature's gaze flicks to the floor, to the rough and uneven chalk circle that had been smeared across the wooden boards. They let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. "You seriously think this did something? That's not even magic, that's just a really bad drawing!"

The boy stands his ground, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

Dubhra is looking at him now, their expression suddenly softening.

"Alright then," their voice low and almost calm. "If you're so sure I belong to you, then come here."

The guy hesitates. "What?"

"You summoned me, right?" Their head tilts slightly, their white pupils glowing. "You're my master now, so you don’t have anything to fear. Come closer. Take what's yours."

The boy swallows, his fake confidence faltering.

Behind him, one of the others whispers something, a warning maybe.

A prosthetic arm extends towards him, the tall figure not moving from the circle.

He ignores the warnings and steps closer, grabbing the creature's hand. "There, now do what I say."

Dubhra doesn't move right away, they study the guy for one last moment, like someone weighing a decision. "Something tells me your friends were right, you shouldn't have done that."

Before he could react, flames erupt around them, they tear into the air with a sudden and violent urge, engulfing the circle. The fire moves like liquid, twisting, hungry, alive.

The boy stumbles back, but Dubhra reaches out, grabbing his wrist with fingers that burn like a brand, to drag him further into the pit of fire. His screams barely start before the flames swallow him whole.

The flames pour from their hand, racing up his arm, devouring skin and bones in a matter of seconds.

The others panic, one bolting for the door, one frozen in place. It doesn't matter, the fire spills into every direction, leaping to walls and curling around their ankles like tentacles. And one by one, their cries are lost to the blaze.

When the last scream fades, Dubhra is left standing alone in the blackened wreckage, just as confused as before, but still deciding to step towards the door.

"A demon." They laugh to themselves as they start to study the burning corpses before them, finally silent. "Oh, I hope some of that fabric survived, I have to cover myself somehow."