The Incubator
The air inside the summoning circle doesn’t stir. Candles burn low, their wax frozen mid-drip. Chalk lines glow faintly beneath the floor, waiting for something to go wrong. It already has.
The air inside the summoning circle doesn’t stir. Candles burn low, their wax frozen mid-drip. Chalk lines glow faintly beneath the floor, waiting for something to go wrong. It already has.