A little late: had to do some sudden consultation on the book cover. Damn, but that feels slightly scary. Anyway, here’s a bit from this month’s Patreon short story.
Down you drift, into the raven-lustered dark.
You can see, after a fashion. The dark is so pristine, so perfect, that the heat of your skin and those of your companions throws off the faintest of auras. And the way down is gentle, easily wide enough for the coach and the floats and you, most privileged of the humans that love and honor the Golden Emperor. What last, faint doubts still remain from your time on the surface dissolve under the delicious weight of the darkness around you as you descend. You take no heed of that, except to feel the heady freedom that comes from losing self-regard. This is better. Let others make the decisions for you now, for a time. You deserve this indulgence.
How far down is the crypt of the Golden Emperor? To ask the question is to reveal one’s foolishness. It is as deep as it needs to be, as large as it needs to be, and is perfect. It seems too perfect to be made by the hands of mere man; but that observation too comes from a human being, and so is also fundamentally flawed. The crypt is what it is, and it does not want or need your approval. You bow your head in submission to this truth.