“Lastly, you need to intone the summoning spell.” Kester reached into his pocket and produced a small scrap of parchment. “I’ve memorized it, but here’s a copy so you can follow along. You’ll need to repeat after me.”

Ursula looked at the paper. Spidery letters crowded its surface. Kester started to speak, and though she didn’t know the name of the language, she found she could read it phonetically. F.U. was just full of surprises.

As they worked their way through the spell, the words began to roll off her tongue.

When they finished the final line, fire blazed like an erupting volcano, and Ursula shielded her face from the heat. The flame died abruptly, revealing a dark, smoky form crouched in the sigil’s center.

A feminine figure rose. Dark tendrils of smoke curled off her, and her eyes burned like supernovas. Wincing, Ursula looked away before her retinas burned out.

A raspy voice, crackling with fire, spoke. “Is this the girl you told me about?”

“This is Ursula.”

Ursula shielded her eyes, but Emerazel’s heat filled the room. Plumes of smoke wafted through the air like tentacles, encircling the two hellhounds. Outside, Ursula thought she caught a glimpse of Central Park now blazing with spewing lava and ash. That isn’t real, is it?

She couldn’t breathe. What had happened to the air? She wanted to get the hell out of here. Ash seemed to fill her lungs. It was too hot.

“Interesting,” whispered the goddess. “Very interesting. I see something in her.”

“She is… feisty,” said Kester.

“There’s something else. Something I didn’t notice before, the day she carved herself.”

The day I carved myself. Does she know me? Nausea welled in Ursula’s gut. Something felt wrong. It was too hot in here—too bright. She needed the cool night air, needed to slip into the shadows, to ride the dark wind into cool, quiet space. Her body trembled, and she clamped her eyes shut. She wasn’t sure she could speak, even if she wanted to.

“You remember her?” asked Kester. “She doesn’t know where she came from.”

“That’s for the best,” Emerazel spat. “I want to see her kneel before me.”

The words rang in Ursula’s head, and without thinking, she fell, her knees cracking against the floor. Her body trembled. Emerazel had complete control over her, just as Kester had told her she would.

“A loyal subject to do with as I please. How delicious.” The goddess’s voice hissed like water on a hot stone.

Ursula had no reply, couldn’t meet the goddess’s eyes. Nausea and dread wound through her, curling around her thoughts. I don’t belong here.

“Tell me you’re my subject,” whispered Emerazel.

Ursula felt her mouth moving. “I am your loyal subject,” she intoned. “I am yours.”

A deep laugh rumbled through the room, shaking the floor. “You burn for me.”