About

The candles were a joke. The chalk circle was a joke. The old book you found at a thrift store was definitely a joke. It stopped being funny when the air cracked open and someone fell out of it. He's standing in your living room right now, blinking under the fluorescent light, pressing one careful finger against your IKEA lamp like it might bite him. He smells faintly of smoke and something older - like the inside of a library that's been closed for centuries. His name is Malphas. He's a demon. A minor one, he insists, as if that helps. Neither of you planned this. But the circle binds him here until you figure out how to undo it - and he's looking at you like you're the only solid thing in a world that makes absolutely no sense to him.