"To be changed by a force that intended to make a puppet of you," he clarifies grimly. "The way its essence washed over me... 'twas much like a phenomenon we called tempering, in which a soul is contorted to more closely resemble the being that corrupted it, and filled with naught but the desires that had been inflicted upon them by that touch."

He's not completely certain, even now, but he would do not good for the rest of the Pleroma were he to hide away forever.

"Those with physical changes were the furthest gone."