A Hand Stained, A Hand Clean

Ol'gaz fed off Florian's crumbling resolve. Every flicker of doubt, every fleeting moment of denial, gave the demon strength. 

Florian's mind was unraveling strand by strand, and Ol'gaz wrapped himself tighter around it, his influence rooting deeper with every moment of weakness.

Florian had always been an easy target. From the beginning, his mind had been soft and fragile, shaped by fear and dependency. 

As a child, he had clung to Riona, allowing her to bear every burden, to solve every problem. She had cared for him so completely that she left no room for him to grow, no space for him to fail or succeed on his own. 

There was truth—sharp and painful—in the words he had hurled at Riona during their last meeting. Though he hated himself for it, a tiny, bitter part of him blamed her.