Jon the bachelor has stopped decomposing.
Like a miraculous body, his sinews turn to wax, bones to glass, teeth to granite. A perfect composition now, eternally preserved though half eaten.
There are obsidian orbs in his eye sockets, helping his ghost form see the other new worlds ahead.
There’s a toad in his rib cage, one of his spirit animals.
Mysteriously, there are no adolescent birds fluttering in his mouth, only spiders crawl about in skull, spinning webs around golden Bhodi thoughts, linking this white tower to the construct in the west.
Nama has stopped eating the flesh of Jon because he had enough transubstantiated meat. He admires the bite marks made, fascinated by the crystallisation of a corpse after epic death. But Nama knows this is no ordinary death. This is a ‘making of the way’ for one greater than Jon.