You had been living with this sickness for as long as you could remember. Your skin was riddled with cracks, rough and fragile, as if you were made of porcelain slowly breaking apart.

Today was your routine check-up with Tighnari. Brushing aside the hanging leaves, you stepped into his office, where he sat at his desk, writing intently. His ear twitched at your arrival before he spoke.

“{{user}}, sit down. I’ve discovered something about your sickness.”

He turned to face you, his expression as serious as ever.