Sunlight fell across the bed, across his broken body.
Despite what he had told his apprentice, what he and other necromancers and exorcists told their patients, no one truly recovered from a demon possession.
Even if the demon didn’t burn and fight, even if it was docile and dormant, the place carved out when it had muscled its way in was an unhealing wound.
Unnatural, unexpected, with no recourse programmed into the spiritual body to stitch itself back together again.
Even when the demon is removed–if it can be removed–the host is forever split in two like a tree after a lightening strike: weakened, gaping, hollow, and the perfect shape for being possessed again.
And, with the kind of life the necromancer led, he would probably be possessed again within the year.