Null Magic

As the vessel reshapes, the pressure of culture shifts as well, but the soul still struggles to adapt.

The change in the vessel attempts to facilitate it, partially it does; but the soul still requires to make an effort.

Soul needs to allow the vessel to reshape it, but it also has parts of its own shape to form on its own.

Balance is tricky, and the soul still doesn't know what is the shape it should take.

Progress is hard, but it's there.

The distortion hurts. The discrepancy hurts. Misalignment hurts. Reality hurts.

Cruel that fate gave it such a wrong body for its soul. Claw marks at its face display the physicality of its aches, where it hurts most.

"Make me myself," it begs, "shape me to my true self."

A road has been made visible for years. It has yet to take it.

The Null Witch, the first Void mage since the Light Genocide.

Will you listen if I speak? Will you hear why I feel weak? Will you listen to my concerns, reasons why I'm on a brink. Why I cry and pray for help, to release of this torment?

Will I dare to speak them up? Will I dare to talk at all? Will I bring up when we talk beyond just some surface crap?

To be honest, I'm afraid. I've no courage what to say. I just bury my concerns, just say hi, goodbye, okay, while honesty stays away.

I don't want to feel this way. To vent, to cry, to spill away. But my carcass is too thick, can't relieve to save myself. Daren't speak of my true ways, for fear shoves true words away.