Kolobok

It didn’t crawl in, didn’t barge into the tavern, and didn’t sneak. It simply appeared—an dazzling, bright, scorching cloud of plasma—spilled in shimmering bursts by careless lodgers who “were lucky” enough to be standing by the entrance.
— Dims the flame, smokes, — grumbled the innkeeper.
It swelled in outrage, but took the advice. And rightly so. Outside this place, it had colossal power; here, at the boundary of worlds, the owner was alone. The owner of the inn nodded appreciatively and pointed to an empty seat behind the bar. As if saying: go on, feel at home at our little shelter. And It, spilling ionizing radiation, reached a tall stool, sat down on it, and settled in.