The door to the Void opened like an eye that had just remembered it hated being awake.

Inside was nothing. Not metaphorical nothing. Actual bureaucratically sanctioned and government compliant nothing.

A sign on the wall read, 

For the last time:

Abyss = for staring into

Void = for screaming into

Please stop screaming into the abyss, we are not insured for that.

Jo stepped in cautiously with her chipped mug raised like a shield. “This feels like a trap.”

“It is a trap,” Mira whispered, clutching her thermos. “The question is, is it for us or for reality?”

A voice, smooth, annoyed, and with the cadence of someone forced to read a script for the millionth time, echoed across the emptiness. “Welcome to the Department of Screaming Voids. Your call is important to us. Please hold.”

Elevator music filled the nothingness. It was off key jazz flute.

Clorvex immediately began to scream into the black. “HELLLOOOOOOO! FREE BAGELS, ANYONE?!”

The floor shook. A ripple of darkness swirled outward, forming a vaguely humanoid shape in a headset. Its mouth opened like a cave collapsing. “Please. Do. Not. Scream. Into. The. Abyss.”

Jo groaned. “He didn’t scream into the abyss, he screamed into you. The void.”

“Same difference,” the Void rumbled. “Who filed the Blood Orange ink requisition?”

Jeff raised his clipboard sheepishly. “That was technically me, but in my defense, the form was very confusing.”

The Void hissed, echoing across eternity. “Blood Orange is a flagged conduit ink. It has been backlogged since the Pentagram Loop of Ninety-four.”

Mira blinked. “Backlogged? As in…?”

The Void leaned closer and a wave of cosmic static washed over them. “As in every circle, every summoning, every ritual misfiled for the last thirty years is currently connected. Through you.”

Everyone turned to Jo. Her chipped mug glowed faintly.

Jo muttered, “Why is it always my mug?”

Grinning, the Queen of the Hollow Moon adjusted her crown. “Darling, because chaos loves an anchor or focal point, and apparently, you’re caffeine-flavored destiny.”

Impatient, the Void rumbled “You may proceed, but if you break anything else, you will need to file Form 13-B: Interdimensional Damages, in triplicate.”

The doors behind them slammed shut. The only way forward was into a swirling corridor of screaming stars.

Clorvex grinned, grabbing Jo’s mop like a sword. “Adventure!”

Jo groaned. “Therapy. I need therapy.”