The Heartforge was more than just a metal shop; it was the place where new meanings were created.
Right at the center of Sanctum, there was a massive chamber, a room made inside the ribs of the god. Aethelrex's heart was there, entwined with a tangle of crystal tubes and crackling energy. It looked like a mound of muscle, somewhat hard on the outside, but still, it was strangely pulsating once an hour. Each pulsation was like a tremor in a cathedral, a deep *whoom* that shook the cobwebs off the city's bones and made the silver fluid in the pipes vibrate.
Sebastian Wilder, the Arch-Cardinal, was standing on the platform in the middle, the Citadel of the Palate, witnessing this strange operation. At the bottom, in step-like basins, they were making Ambrosia. First, they would purify the raw stuff through bones of crushed saints, then they would electrify it with the lightning that was taken from the god's sleepy brain and finally, they would add some despair in the Chamber of Sighs. The outcome was this bright, silver-gold liquid that was dripping into glass containers. Each drop was worth a block in the city. Each bottle could get you into the Palate for a month.
It was brilliant, their finest work. But for Sebastian, it was simply not enough.
The Pancreas is producing four percent less than the last time, mumbled Adolf Adler, the Karu Quartermaster. He was standing next to Sebastian and looking at the numbers on his tablet. The liver is down by seven. The Mycelial Wastes are not revealing new spots easily. According to the math, the good Ambrosia stock will be completely depleted in 18 to 24 months. The Karu will be able to survive for some time, but it is getting weaker. The Withdrawal will be everywhere.
Sebastian listened to the report while he had his hands behind his back. He didn't look at Adler but rather the heart, the enormous tired muscle that has been beating for a long time.
Your numbers are merely a sign, Quartermaster, Sebastian said, his voice blending with the Heartforge's vibration. They show that the plate is empty, not what is for dinner.
Adler was taken aback. Dinner? There is no other. The god *is* dinner. When he is…
When he is gone, Sebastian interrupted, turning around, his eyes sparkling, we will have to be something else. We will be beyond the need for food. The Final Digestion is not the end; it is a transition.
Adler turned white. The Final Digestion was a secret only whispered about in the Palate. It was a ritual that would involve the Heartforge and some forbidden stuff to chemically break down the god's remains. Transform his body into one massive wave of... god stuff.
The Still Voice people say that would be killing, Adler murmured.
The Still Voice is dying! Sebastian shouted. People down there looked up and then quickly looked away. They are clinging to a dying god! He is doing it to us! We are not murderers. We are his children, taking his stuff. And you must sell everything to pay the bills!
He came close to Adler, his breath smelling of ozone and incense. Your numbers are the most important, Adler. We need the specifics. The exact quantity of god tissue. The pulse of every organ. The moment when things become ideas. Your abilities will be the map of god's body for his last gift.
Adler became enthusiastic as if he were turned on. To measure god! To have the most important spreadsheet ever! I will need complete access. To everything. Even the Gaping Maw. The Cerebral Vault.
Sebastian was smiling, warm but not from the heart. You have got it. The Taste-Guard is at your disposal. Captain Rhodes is loyal. She understands it.
As Adler was rushing away, Sebastian was looking at the heart again. The heart's beat was shaking the platform.
*Whoom.*
He thought of his first Ambrosia taste, which he stole when he was a young priest. It wasn't the visions that made him dependent on it. It was the feeling of being connected. For a fleeting moment, he felt like he was a part of the whole. Then it was gone, leaving him trapped in this body, with this mind.
That loss was a continual ache. A Withdrawal that no Ambrosia was capable of fixing.
The Final Digestion was the only way out. They would all experience it. They would all turn into the Tapestry. Eternally.
From the darkness emerged a figure - a tall, slim man with dark eyes and stained fingers. Lucien Gray, the former Carver, the Anatomist Heretic.
The Pancreas harvest was excellent, Lucien said, his voice lacking emotion. But Sharpe is getting too involved. She is overdoing the tissue too much. She is experimenting.
Sebastian didn't reply to him. On the god?
On herself. Lucien said with a smile. What she is actually doing is putting brain matter of the god into her spine. To create a bond. To understand the pain.
Interesting, Sebastian said. And dangerous. The Echo could destroy her.
Or, Lucien said, it could make her the greatest Carver ever. She would be the first to experience the god's pain and that would be before it happens. She would be able to get the Cerebral Vault without causing any harm.
Sebastian spun around. You think she's the key to the Core Memory Lobe?
I think she is the only one who can get it without a scratch. And I need it, Wilder. To study it. To learn what it knew. The answers are in it, not in the juice.
The two men were looking each other in the eyes. One wanted everyone to consume, the other wanting to understand. Their objectives were different, but they both desired the same thing.
Watch her, Lucien. Help her. But when she gets the Lobe…
...we'll have to talk about what happens next.
The meal must be complete. Every last bit.
*Whoom*, was the sound of the heart.
Slower this time, Sebastian was noticing. Weaker.
The plate was emptying. People were getting hungry.
And dinner was about to be served.