The undefinition inside THE Sepulchre was not malicious.
It had no personality, no intent in the way that consciousness had intent. It was simply the absence of definition doing what absence did in the presence of something defined, pressing against the edges of the defined thing with the patient persistence of entropy, looking for the seams where the definition was weakest and working at those seams with the thoroughness of a process that had all the time its containment required.
Noah sat in the nothing and let it press.
He could not feel his scales. He could not feel his crown. He could not feel his tail or his horns or the Bellum rings or the Cognitio rings or the grimoire orbiting his Hadean Pillar in the invisible interior space of his perception. He could not feel the connection to his other bodies. He could not complete a thought.
But he could feel his Cause.
