Luneshale Pass sion

Out of the corner of his eye, Moisés expects the worst.

He is calmer now, if only because he has accepted what fate has wrought for him. If he is to be possessed, let it happen. His body is useless and damaged, a golem without a shem which crumbles into the dust of its origins.

So when it touches him with its nose (he is surprised that it is cold and wet, like his), he does not pull away.

And when it offers its name, he only stares. Is this a test? Where is the outer darkness, the gnashing of teeth?

He has stopped crying but he still shakes. He twitches and hiccups and licks the snot off of his nose.

Ulf-win, he repeats, not daring to meet its eyes.