They called it the Watcher, the Silent, the Listener, the Guard, the Wallspeaker, the Fleeting Silhouette.

                It was a dragonfly.

                A dragonfly with too many wings, double the amount than there should be, larger than it should be, a black body that ended in a blade covered with bright, circular, neon patterns that glowed in the dark. Blues and greens and yellows. Only blues, greens and yellows. The veins in the wings glowed that way, too, but only when it wanted them to.

                The glow would fade so you would never see it, but there were signs learned by humans that signaled if the Watcher was around. Suddenly there were more dragonflies than you remember ever seeing before, rising not only in the mists of the early morning but in the heat of the afternoon. Or if there were too many fireflies hanging by your bedroom window, blinking and lingering. But only those. Even if you killed all those insects, more would take its place by the next day. The Wallspeaker created them.

                But do not underestimate the Silent. It will see, it will see all through all of its Eyes, its insects, and it is uncatchable, untamable, unbound. The humans are lucky that, while the Listener is a demon that can bypass binding circles, it is intangible if it does so (but not invisible). It cannot do harm to person or objects. Lucky, lucky, lucky, so beware if you are alone and find it with no summoning circle in sight, tangible from a deal. It is a demon and it thirsts for blood. No flyswatter, carnivorous plant, bright electric lantern or non-magical barrier will stop it.

                The quiet, annoying thrum that came from broken Latin and the insisting pull at the core of one’s being was familiar to the Watcher. Cultists often summoned it to spy on their enemies, report their daily schedules, their familiars, their families, their belongings, their weaknesses.

                It appeared with no amazing theatrics or fancy things. Just a quiet shadow risen from the ground, hovering in the air, surrounded by little neon lights. It had to have some nice way of entering. It wasn’t rapidly fluttering its eight wings either, as most insects did.

                And of course it was summoned somewhere quiet and discreet. Dirty, run-down, out of the way. There was graffiti on the mossy brick walls and garbage was swept to the side. Disgusting.

                “Yyndbrwyn, the Silent, the Wallspeaker, the Watcher. We have a proposal for you.”

                It was the head cultist, Yyndbrwyn assumed. His garb was far fancier, and faux jewels covered his neck and arms. How gaudy.

                Then came the whispers from the walls, dozens of children’s voiced not quite in sync, layered with reverb. “… go on.”

This is why Yyndbrwyn is named the Wallspeaker. It was always amusing to see the human’s reactions to its speech. No matter how many times you’ve heard it, it was always strange to hear it. No one was quite ever used to it.

                “We want you to watch the Pines family, situated in Gravity Falls. Observe everything that you can, their daily schedules-” there was one, “their relationships with other people-” there was another, “and what weaknesses we can exploit.” And there was the last one.

                “But only from Stanford Pines’ line in the family tree and two generations down. Only those. No else. And you cannot include the families of spouses that were not originally Pines.”

                Good. Specific. Yyndbrwyn had recorded many, many people when the summoners’ request had been vague, had killed some people with the overload of info it gave to the summoner. And then it devoured their souls, unless the no-devouring rule had been established in the deal. In this one, it was not.

                “And in return?”

                Colorful plumage off of the birds of paradise, stones with bright colorations and patterns. Dragon’s breath opal, blue tiger eye, moss agate. Color. Value. But there was few of them. Three stones and three feathers.

                “Accept these, as well as memories we do not need to live.”

                Now this it could twist around.

                The dragonfly demon left, taking feathers, stones, the names of family members, bills to be paid, social security numbers and important dates with it.

                However, while it was sifting through the memories, deciding what to take, it found that a cultist had discovered the legendary Alcor resided with the Pines in Gravity Falls and reported it to the rest of her group. This was sure to be interesting.

                “I don’t think Gravity Falls has ever had this many dragonflies,” Acacia noted as she was walking with her siblings through the forest. She watched one skip through the air.

                “Don’t worry about it, it’s probably just from the heavy rain we had last week. Hey, wanna go catch some?”