The spell backfires

"Weapon?" I scoffed. "You hardly can wield a spoon, you pathetic little nerd. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a kingdom to claim." I raised a hand, dark energy swirling around my fingertips, ready to rip his ridiculous clothes from his body and expose him for the scrawny, impotent worm he was. A simple, elegant spell, one I'd perfected on countless unfortunate souls. "Perhaps a little public humiliation will teach you not to interfere with your betters." The words were barely out of my mouth, when a blinding flash erupted not from my hand, but from the box Raphael held.

A wave of pure, raw **** slammed into me. It wasn't the icy grip of evil magic. It was… an unraveling. A sensation of being pulled apart, thread by thread, from the inside out. My carefully constructed glamour, the illusion of youth and power, shimmered, then shattered like brittle glass. The shadows surrounding me evaporated, leaving my skin prickling, exposed. The **** ripped at my clothes, tearing them away in ribbons. My boots, my corset, my long gloves, my padded bra—all vanished, leaving me utterly, horrifyingly nude.