Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
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  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Autopsies Of The Divine

Autopsies Of The Divine

Knight, Vincent

Paperback

Series: Under the Ribs of Malfuria, Book 1

Fantasy

ISBN13: 9798233671913
Publisher: Vincent Knight
Published: Mar 30 2026
Pages: 112
Weight: 0.31
Height: 0.27 Width: 5.50 Depth: 8.50
Language: English

The universe is not merely indifferent; it is a rotting god. Long before the first spark of mortal thought ignited in the primordial dark, the Great Malfurian fell-dissected by cosmic rivals and left to drift as a celestial corpse in the cold, uncaring void. We do not inhabit a planet; we inhabit an anatomy. In Autopsies of the Divine, the opening movement of the Under the Ribs of Malfuria series, Vincent Knight peels back the shimmering, fraudulent veil of reality to reveal the rhythmic, wet horror of a world that is actively decomposing. Here, the ivory mountains are the calcified ribs of a fallen titan, the soil is the nutrient-dense mulch of divine rot, and the very oceans are the clotting tides of a heart that refuses to stop beating. This is a chronicle of anatomical heresy, where humanity is not the architect of history, but a swarm of short-lived parasites feasting upon the terminal glory of their creator. Across ten visceral records, the line between faith and flesh dissolves into a red tide of cosmic indifference. From the lightless depths of the Endless Chasm to the light-drinking canopies of the cursed groves, every step taken is a sacrilege, and every breath drawn is an inhalation of ancient, decomposing spores. In this beautiful, terrifying ossuary, magic is not a gift of the heavens, but a parasitic manipulation of a dying god's nervous system-a cold, practiced ability to pluck the silent nerves of a creator to fuel the ambitions of the vermin. We celebrate our petty empires and fragile legends, oblivious to the fact that the heart in the center of the world is beating its final, shuddering pulse. The ink is wet, reeled out from human nerves to record the final accounting of a reality that was never meant to survive its own birth. Step beneath the ribs of Malfuria and witness the glory of the end. The God is silent. The maggots are hungry. And the autopsy has just begun.

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