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Summary
"I summon you." Alastor’s breath fogged in the sudden cold. "I call you. I demand you answer."
A laugh echoed through the room: rich and golden and wrong. It came from everywhere and nowhere, bouncing off the walls, crawling up Alastor's spine.
"Demand?"
The word curled through the air like cigarette smoke. Alastor's hands froze on the paper.
"You demand my presence, little mortal? How entertaining."