The Gilded Marrow
The Cathedral of Flesh was a living city. Its walls were translucent membranes that pulsed with a slow, rhythmic heartbeat; its streets were conduits of warm, golden ichor. There was no stone here, no steel, only the biological perfection of the Great Provision. Lydia was a Cantor of the Marrow. Her duty was to oversee the "Transition," the moment when a citizen's physical form was dissolved...
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