Chapter 35: The Library of Flesh
The journey from the mineral silence of the Deeps to the Verdant Canopy was a transition from one form of madness to another. They traded echoing caverns for a wall of living sound a cacophony of shrieking birds, chittering insects, and the endless, groaning rustle of colossal leaves. The air, thick enough to drink, tasted of loam, rot, and a cloying, floral perfume that changed with every step, as if the jungle itself was cycling through remembered scents.
But this was no ordinary jungle. It was a jungle remembering itself, and in its heightened recollection, it had become something else entirely.
