This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
I once had a similar experience to Thomasin. Except instead of Black Phillip the goat talking sweet nothings into thy ears, it was Ginger Dave my cat. And the crescendo of it all was not floating around a fire in the darkened woods but me throwing myself out of the window of my second floor flat breaking my coccyx. Still it was not so much to do with our Lord Satan as the copious amounts of magic mushrooms I consumed. Ah those were days.