[His arm tensed as the healing continued, and Albert regulated his breathing into a slow, steady inhale and exhale as the curse seemed to writhe. If he stared hard enough at his arm, he could almost swear that those dark marks were rising up like tendrils -- but no, they only rippled along his skin as Grune's magic took effect.
A faint, relieved laugh escapes as he eventually sees some of his own flesh.]
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A faint, relieved laugh escapes as he eventually sees some of his own flesh.]
Ah. Look at that.