Malz floated on nothingness. For a long time, she simply remained still, basking in the absence of feeling. She couldn't remember how she got here, but she could remember pain. She could feel its echoes, visceral in what they'd left behind.
But here, she couldn't feel, except the vaguest notion of warmth. The tiniest hint of every part of herself, down to the tiniest hairs on her arms.
And yet she knew, there were parts of her that were even smaller. Cells, of course, she knew of. Basic biology for angels. But even inside that notion, she found new knowledge that felt very, very old.
Organelles. Mitochondria. Soma. Dendrites. Nucleii. Marrow and bone.
Limbic and muscular and cardiovascular systems.
The thousand names of the body.
And then, like capillaries, the branches of genetic knowledge.
The encoding of instincts. Lifecycles. Evolution.
Guanine, Adenine, Thymine, Cytocine.
And reflecting behind them... behind life.
Consciousness. Form. Magic.
