Naphula

I choke. Naphula shudders at the thought of leaving my form, and the storm in my stomach intensifies. I double over as he loses hold of my mind. I retch at the ground, black smoke blooming from my orifices. The pain hits like a jackhammer, but I steel myself against it, used to the agony. The transition is always like this. Having a soul untwine itself from yours isn't meant to be easy.