The Descended Flame

"No. It is the remnant of the Descended Flame's spark.

"None shall shine with it again.

"It is forbidden to you denizens of the woods above."

Comes the intoned response from the Thing under the Books.

"Deep in the earth. Search and you may find." The Thing under the Books replies.

"Among the gears that the Makers set in motion. They built machines to give them an unending supply of servants.

"But the Descended Flame is no more. None shall use its spark to create servants in its image."

"The radiance of the Descended Flame is not suitable for the use of the denizens of the woods without a Lord to direct them.

"They would use it to grow proud and overstep their natural bounds. They would destroy the Lords' natural order."

"Very well. Because there is only one of you, I will allow you to touch the machine, and receive the Descended Flame's spark.

"Do not use it incautiously! It is not powerful enough to allow you to take on a mass of your foes.

"But it is a small amount of aid that I am willing to provide to you on the condition that you warn the Spiders you speak of away from this place."

The Retriever descends as planned.

The Thing under the Books lets it pass.

"The spell in the grimoire we found. I think it's a spell to call the Funeral Bier of the Descended Flame." Nelkie says.

"It calls a barge of copper reeds into existence which bears heavy loads, and which a single large creature may pull along.

"The funeral barge itself is impervious to heat and fire. Suitable to bear the Flame. The spell itself was interwoven into a lengthy dirge about the end of the Descended Flame, and its cessation of dominion over the Sands of Sunset. If we can find a magician capable of casting a spell this powerful, the Bier could potentially carry the Edificator, or its equivalent, with us."

Someone, or something, crawls up the ladders, past the still but still watching Thing under the Books.

It vaguely resembles one of the Blue Foxes, except that it is now much fluffier as the points of fur on its coat turn to wisps of flame that vanish into the air.

A soft glow radiates from its pelt, which has turned the color of sunset.

"The spark...or something down there." The former Retriever says as it sees the assembled party still alive.

"It channeled the power of the Descended Flame's casket into me."

"Do you need the book to cast your spells now? Or do you just need to learn them to understand and fill your vase?"

"The poems are symbolic. They are allegories for the powers and rituals of the Descended Flame and its Sparks.

"Once I peruse them, they will flow into me. For I am now a Spark of the Descended Flame."

"I assume you will just maintain the Scaffold of the Descended Spark then?" The bird asks. "I can acquiesce to that."

"Mhh. The lord has had a change of plans, and I will be executing it."

"It seems your master wishes to supplant mine!" The bird replies with a reproachful tone. "...but a dead Lord cannot resist. I will not fight against a new supplanter. What is the new plan?"

"Wait I think we have eachother confused are you talking about the Gardener? Becouse I also work for him, in a sense, kind of. But I'm talking about the Lord that wields that staff, built this scaffold."

"The Descended Flame appointed you? That is impossible! Unless I misunderstand?" The bird seems incensed. "The Descended Flame is in no state to perform these changes."

"Maybe you do misunderstand."

"Stand down, servant of the Descended Flame!" The Former Retriever calls out. "I have received the spark. Do not resist his representative!"

The bird falls silent, and still.

Leaning against two of the corners are two giant portaits of a tall figure, face turned away.

It wears long garments of feathers and dyed red silks, which are tattered and torn.

In one of its hands, it holds a rod with a flame dancing on the end.

A whip has flayed away cloth and skin from the figure's back. From the exposed flesh, tiny flames leak like liquids.

In the center of the room is an immense sarcophagus made of brass, copper, bronze, and aluminum sheets stapled together in a surprisingly crude fashion.

Bands of the same crystal that makes up some of the pipes are visible between the plates, presumably making up some central core underneath.

There appears to be some plasma-adjacent material underneath, filling the sarcophagus. The pressure of whatever is contained within pushes the contents of the sarcophagus against its crystal exterior:

Bones. So, so, sooo many bones inside, piled up against the inner walls.

Silvius can see many of them are spidery thin. Whittled away by the erosion of the energy contained inside with them, perhaps?

Or perhaps...they were that way even when they were inside whoever used them, back before their untimely demise?