Canna wasn't sure how much time had passed. His vision was hazy, and his entire body felt like it had been torn apart and put back together wrong. Pain throbbed through his limbs, his head, and his chest. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open and took in his surroundings: stone, fire, and an overwhelming heat. A massive throne sat before him, and on it sat a figure, though the being's form was blurred by a dark mist, almost as if reality itself was trying to keep his appearance hidden.
"Hoooh, interesting," the figure on the throne spoke, his voice deep and reverberating. "You have quite the nerve to summon a demon of my caliber, but you've failed, mortal. I will not be summoned by someone like you."
