It spoke to him.

Every encounter: a new quest? Every meeting; he'd never had an encounter; never communed with a being in the same way he had and was currently doing with the demon whose tongue had a thousand fingers and drank the soul off his lips - if he hadn't seen any - he'd seen a brain vagina.

It was this!

And a brain-cell he'd stabbed fuck out. - Now swimming through/losing oxygen – he'd seen that – he'd seen – what did he care about a box of prophecies, nothing pulsing – only this[!] escape, in some kind of symbiosis he'd never detected - the Orach of Mending and the Bollock of Wanting.

And now he perceived their intermingled desires, two of those attributes, sure, but all he could trust - no choice but to/but – he barely had to consult that organ that kept him sane in direct proportion, to the extent to which he was currently inside something/not this mess of mental organs and sexual, but a quest.

No it was this. Pry-Boak [cL^YoP]. The Queen of Waat; he was the box of prophecies/he was the Black Chest of the Scrolls of the Prophecies of the Queen of Waat - and if not him, his soul, his identity, who he really was/he could care, he could flat out care at all about anything he was supposed to, he'd follow it all back, he'd -

The vaginal cavern shook with a mad panic that was: finality, the beast bleeding out – a dungeon fashioning itself biologically into a grave -

with all he had left Art faster – faster – faster – faster – faster – faster - out -

he cared only -

- he saw it; the lip, he swam, faster/further up, toward that light brighter now every last breath, every remaining beat; but not just of his heart he - swam, had to up, and up, and up, no thought except, the essential, his soul's desperate, unquenchable need to

Who he was -

He swam out

He was the quest -

He swam out

Who dreamt him -

He burst -

Back out and through and he was -

A scream and a whipping tear of flesh that sought -

And he was -

All reducing back through and behind him, mountains of organic mass and bowels/oceans of bowels and their contents; lips, glands, organs/passed through the internal cavities of a planet sized beast now/seeing himself from a thousand angles, seeing fingers: pilfer his flesh; reducing, reducing, reducing, all the dead piles of organs reducing -

he – better - burst, he better pierce, he better pass, he better - if he did not escape the reduction in piles and mountains of flesh,

he'd – he'd be there/out there too; he'd only be reincorporated inside dead flesh, that he couldn't –

that couldn't – house him. Organs and impacted orifices, tears of flesh and scummy impacted/reduced organic material, more than a world held, all of it, all of it, all of it, reduced, and impacted, and reduced back down.

His body swelled inside/in proportion to the beast, the walls of the tunnel itself, touching him, the thing got smaller, molecular constituents reducing themselves to/density reduced, he didn't - but he swam/kept swimming, and as the tunnel reduced he – he couldn't swim, he wasn't -

he pulled himself back out his last, and this time it was - his last breath - too manufactured - the final energy required to - he pulled himself up the birth tunnel that rejected his departing, clamping him, pressing on his flesh, refusing to let him go. - If the beast was dying, he'd die inside it too, it would have him and keep him internally, impacted down and reduced: the final organ of the vagina that wouldn't let him go - within the beast itself he had to, the lip, he had to, the colours, he had to, his own organs – he felt something that -

He -

The Lips -

Burst -

The mouth of a cave, the same time scraggy lips behind.

oouuuuuuuuuuuuuut

Art[ion] Mlckk'n Inchance-rify, The Dream Slave, that Sack of Glands and Want – he looked down, Art did, at what his hand held.

- Like the rest of him caked in blood and biological waste: the insides of a demon that was exactly as big as it should be; had exactly the quantities of organs required by the quest that he was inside; glands no less trapped than inside a prison cell, whose walls were the sides of a demon's organs.

The key had many fingers.

And it was made out of flesh.

And then he remembered what -

Looking at that key, feeling the weight of its flesh, the intense density -

- And he realised something else. This key. It wasn't merely the counterpart to the lock that held fast that box of fake,

manipulated prophecies, no it -

Whatever it unlocked -

Maybe it was -

A Dream Slave.

Because this was him more than any name, double-name, or surname.

it told him what it meant and -

- This key would tell him who had named him and what it meant.

A Dream Slave.

The Dream Slave.

He was the Dream Slave and what it meant.