Fynn

My chest burns as Corvina lets her hands hover over my chest, making a feeble purple light stream from her hands into my body.

I grit my teeth, praying to the Goddess that it will be over swiftly as I clench the edge of the table with my hand.

Corvina hums, murmuring spells in a foreign language as she cuts out parts of my soul that have been enlarged by the demonic entity in me.

I should be used to it by now, but still, I can’t seem to find it easier with time.

Quite the contrary, ...