28 Hunger

Absolutely horrific. It’s like a nightmare that won’t end. I can still… I can still see them opening me up and pulling me apart and…

Well, it’s also the only reason I passed my Biomancy examination to become a Novice Practitioner. The pain is immense, and the tortures are cruel and unusual, but the instructions… the detail… the focused tutoring you won’t find anywhere else. No other book marries the practical and theoretical so well…

It’s also… kind of exciting when you get used to it.

8/10.

-Review for Odes of Blood and Flesh

28

Hunger

“Sister Uva,” Shiv said, leaning against the door frame. He’d been waiting there for a few seconds, considering different poses. Ultimately, he settled on nonchalant—after all, that was how he wanted to feel. However, I really, really hope she likes his food. I really, really do, Shiv thought to himself.

As Uva came into sight, his worry dissolved into something else entirely. She was dressed for an occasion far more sophisticated than a dinner date at an apartment. The dark silk dress she wore—deepest blue, almost black—was sculpted to her form. Shiv studied her battle-hardened physique beneath the fabric, and regarded her with his Biomancy as well. One quick glance was all he allowed himself, though; it was impolite to stare once she noticed. 

But she seemed too busy admiring his form as well. There was amusement in her eyes as she regarded his ensemble: a hospital shirt with a shadowy cloak. “What is this?”

“I’m trying a new look,” he said, expanding his arms to give her a better view. “What do you think?”

She eyed him for a moment, her gaze lingering too long on the parts of his torso that weren’t covered by his shirt. “I think I can make improvements. Later.”

Shiv nodded. “I’d like that. I really, really like the dress.”

“The dress is… it’s mine,” she said with a bit of stiffness. “I made it.” She had also altered her hair—shorter than before, freshly cut. Shiv wondered if necessity had driven the change. She bled a great deal from her orifices earlier, and she still bore a faint bloodshot in her eyes and a lingering heat in her skull.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, expression dimming slightly. “If you’re feeling tired—”

Uva walked past him and gently pushed him aside, tracing the tip of her finger down his exposed sternum.

“I came for dinner,” she said, resolve firm. “I’m going to get dinner.”

Shiv couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine. Let’s get you seated.” He had everything prepared: chair, plate, utensils, food, all neatly arranged. Adam eyed them from his couch and then retreated, offering a semblance of privacy. Shiv couldn’t blame him—where else was the Young Lord to go? Outside, perhaps, but the thought made Shiv cringe; he didn’t want to imagine what trouble Adam might get into among the Abyssals and spiderfolk especially.

He is getting better, though, Shiv considered.

The Deathless adopted the air of a professional, introducing Uva to the appetizer and main dish—and hiding dessert for later. He spoke little, simply observing her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She, too, kept her mind to herself—oddly restrained despite their earlier mental conversations.

I wonder what she’s thinking, he mused. Despite how much he appreciated her company, he realized he didn’t truly know her well, nor was he good at reading her. Of all the Umbrals—and even compared to some Weaveresses—Uva remained a mystery. 

Shiv supposed the same went for him. He hid plenty of things as well. Until recently.

When introductions were over, she carefully lifted the utensils and began to eat. He watched her features, searching for any hint of approval. But she remained an inscrutable wall, betraying nothing. Shiv’s anxiety returned, climbing steadily. Well, I don’t know if this is the best meal she’s ever had… still dessert, though. She can still have her mind blown by that. Shiv comforted himself, recalling the first time he cooked for Georges. That was the first time he discovered how fast the older chef could curse. I wonder what Georges would do right now.

After she finished the asparagus, she moved on to the lobster—and finally revealed something: a look of curiosity. She asked how he made it, about the ingredients and the golden crust. He explained the heat he used, the exact steps of his recipe, even how he judged the fire with his Biomancy.

“Oh, that’s a rare use for magic,” she said, smiling slightly. Shiv felt a bit of his worry dissipate.

Well, that’s something. Still not sure if it’s the best dinner ever—but…

She began pulling the lobster apart and savoring each bit. By the time she was done, she said only one thing—not praise, not criticism. “I’m still hungry.” There was a huskiness to her voice that made him swallow. Swallow like a dehydrated man trying to get water from his own spit.

As Shiv unveiled the fondue, Adam reappeared as if summoned through a dimensional rift. The Young Lord took a seat next to Uva, uncaring of the moment and ignoring the death glare Shiv shot him. He clasped his hands together and looked at Shiv with wide, innocent eyes.

“Sister Uva,” Adam greeted congenially, “how are you this fine evening? Oh—I forgot to thank you for your noble and valiant efforts earlier.”

Uva rubbed her eye, blinking with slight exhaustion. “Adept Adam,” she began, with none of her usual rancor, “thank you for resolving matters. I heard you saved many of my sisters’ lives.” Then she smiled at him—actually smiled. 

Both Shiv and Adam were stunned.

“I—it’s just my duty as Pathbearer,” Adam sputtered. And because he was uncomfortable, he forced the topic to change. “Shiv, the fondue, please.” Adam clapped.

“Aye, Young Lord,” Shiv muttered under his breath. “I will bring it right away.” He set before them the fondue and its assortment of fruits.

Both Uva and Adam took on mutual expressions of subtle delight. The Young Lord stopped himself from devouring everything and offered to let Uva go first. 

She picked a cherry, dipped it in, and slowly, after carefully covering the fruit with chocolate, put it in her mouth. Shiv stared at her lips, perhaps a moment too long. He looked away when she caught him. But he continued focusing on her using his other senses. She smelled of… of that post-rain scent. Gods, she’s… fresh.

Awareness > 7

In the meantime, Adam started demolishing banana after banana, uncaring of the chemistry unfolding beside him.

After another half hour of mostly silent eating—mostly silent because Adam had a curse that seemed to cause him physical pain if he didn’t comment or talk every few minutes—Sister Uva finished the last of the fruit and said something that shook Shiv to his core: “I’m still hungry.”

After a beat, Adam agreed. “I’m still hungry, too,” the Young Lord said. But Shiv wasn’t looking at him at all anymore. In fact, Adam might as well not exist at all to Shiv in that moment.

The Deathless found himself staring at his own reflection in Uva’s dark-blue eyes. The way she looked at him made him feel like he was in desirable danger, made his legs shake—but it also woke something inside him. Still hungry, he thought. Hungry for what? He didn’t finish that thought before she rose from her seat.

Adam watched her, then glanced at Shiv, then down at his empty dessert plate. “It’s very good,” he said. “The dessert’s… very nice. I think I’m going to sit here for a while and think about breakfast.”

Neither of them was listening. Uva strode past Adam and grabbed Shiv by the arm. “Come on,” she said, pulling him toward his bedroom. “I need to see your measurements.”

“Measurements?” he replied. “But you’re still hungry?”

“Yes. So hurry.” Uva spoke with such feverish intensity that Shiv practically ran into the bedroom. She didn’t say anything else until she’d pushed him into the room and closed the door behind them. 

Outside, Adam sighed loudly for Shiv to hear. “I would go out, but I don’t have the key. Shiv… Shiv?”

She hurriedly placed Valor on a nearby cabinet—the dagger sputtered and tried to say something, but Shiv was too distracted to pay attention. 

“So, measurements,” Uva said, waving at his hospital shirt. “We need to do something about this. I can’t have you constantly losing clothing and running around in tatters, and you can’t always be wearing your own bones as armor, either.”

“I can’t?” Shiv asked, confused as to why.

“I said I can’t have it.” Her voice dropped a register as she took a step closer. Shiv’s heart skipped a beat. “Get that thing off. I want a better look.”

Shiv obeyed, but in his haste the shirt split down the middle. “Oops,” he muttered as the two halves fell to the floor. “It’s really quite fragile.”

Uva stared at him, her expression growing tense. The hunger in her gaze was becoming increasingly evident. She extended a tendril of her mind magic into his consciousness like a snake lashing out from the bushes.

Shiv’s heart hammered in his chest like a war drum, and his Biomancy told him hers was racing just as fast. For a few moments, she simply traced a finger along his torso—shoulder to navel—until her palm rested on his chest. To his surprise, he could feel it: the sensations of her touch projected into his mind.

Slowly, he reciprocated, reaching out with his own nascent mind magic. She bound her thoughts to his, and they grew tight together, like a cord. The sensations intensified until he was fully aware of how she felt.

Shiv let out a gasp. “You… you are hungry,” he breathed. And he realized he had the same kind of hunger she did.

“I’m starved,” she admitted. A flutter, a flame in her stomach—he felt that fire ignite within himself.

He placed his hand over her hand and leaned down closer—well into her personal space. “Was dessert not to your liking?”

“It was sweet,” she said. “And dinner was filling… a true exploration of taste.” Her lips curved in a small smile.

He couldn’t stop watching her mouth. He couldn’t stop hearing the pump, pump, pump of her heart.

“But you’re still hungry,” Shiv murmured, his voice low and husky. “Hungry for something sweeter than dessert. I think I have… just the thing…” He brushed his lips against hers, tasting the lingering sweetness they shared. Before pulling back. Teasing her. Provoking her.

Her eyes flared in outrage. She practically hissed. “You…”

Shiv ran a hand along her cheek, tracing her lips, and gently cradled the back of her head. As he leaned in, but her self-control shattered like a rusted chain: she slammed into him and bit down on his bottom lip with a bestial snarl. He could still taste the fondue’s chocolate, but it paled before all the flavors he experienced afterward.

The fondue was sweet, but Uva… she was sublime.

***

Might of Mass > 70

Psychomancy > 5

Sometime later, after their breaths slowed enough for coherent speech and their minds could focus on something other than wild lust, Shiv found himself shaking his head at what remained of the bed. Now, he and Uva were against a cool wall—the only one that wasn’t somewhat cracked.

“By the Composer,” she sighed—something she said often. The grin on Shiv’s face in that instant made him seem an intoxicated fool.

“We really destroyed that thing,” Shiv said, chuckling under his breath. The bed was practically embedded in the floor; the ground was cracked and almost excavated. Fissures ran along the walls. One of the cabinets was nothing but dust, and the light above had broken at some point. Yet all this destruction felt meaningless, irrelevant, and feeble before the peace nesting between them.

He held her close, pressing her body tighter against his. He enjoyed the sensation, and she felt his enjoyment, and the mental bond they sustained looped that pleasure back around in an ouroboros of bliss. Shiv felt a flutter of fear—he might grow addicted to this feeling.

Uva released a soft breath against his neck and looked up. Shiv leaned down to kiss her again before leaning his skull against hers. “Again?” he asked.

She smiled and remained silent for a moment. “I think I’m content right here, just for now.”

“Finally not so hungry anymore?” he teased, running a hand across his chest and biting back a groan.

“Only for now,” she said, her eyes glowing dark again.

Broken Moon, Shiv thought with a shudder. Bound tight in the web of want, he found himself counting their heartbeats. One thousand and thirty-three spent in afterglow and tranquility. Until her thoughts shifted.

A memory intruded: she was thinking of the last time her face was this close to his, their heads pressed together—trapped within the teleportation anchor, she had witnessed the first of his deaths. It was gruesome, and from her end, he felt a scar lining her mind.

As he brushed against the scar, terror, horror, disbelief, and relief flowed out from her. Relief was the strongest emotion remaining, for he returned to her, like a miracle delivered by the Composer. He looked down at into her eyes and tasted her once more, trying to soothe her worries. But the moment lingered—and when her eyes opened again, she let out a sigh not of contentment or pleasure, but of lingering dread.

“I saw you die,” she said.

“Yeah,” he replied. “That was what happened.”

She stared, searching his features for pain. When none appeared, her frown deepened. “It does not bother you? Death?”

He considered her question. “Well, it doesn’t feel good. It’s more of a lesson to me. I gain skills from it. It makes me stronger to make up for whatever way I’m found lacking, it makes up for it. That’s why I grow so fast—how I went from little more than Pathless a week ago to who I am now.”

She pushed off him, and he felt a pang of disappointment. His disappointment drifted through their link, and she settled back-first against him with a gentle smile. He suddenly wasn’t so disappointed anymore

He felt her reach through his mind, running her fingers through certain thoughts and memories, and he let her. Strange—he was still wary of mind mages, especially after Harkness—but after right now, he trusted Uva. It felt strange, trusting a mind mage.

Wait. I’m a damned mind mage too now.

“The scar faded,” she said.

“Hm?” he asked.

“The scar from the mind weaver. You had one before—you were afraid. Now it’s gone. In less than two days…”

Shiv blinked. “You could feel that?”

“Yes.” She mentally pulled him closer to her mind and allowed him to experience certain memories: watching him burn, his features twisting in anguish and agony, the light going out behind his eyes. He still felt an echo of her pain—like being torn apart from the inside. Nothing she wanted to experience again, nor see someone else endure.

Shiv winced. “Sorry about dying. Maybe if I were smarter, I’d have a better plan—”

“Shh,” Uva whispered as she turned, sliding up herself up along his torso. All semblance of coherent thought was lost to him. 

Moments after, they started a conversation that mostly didn’t involve their mouths.

***

“I know about your mother,” Shiv said suddenly, breaking the silence. He didn’t know an easy way to start, so he got it out: blunt, direct, honest.

Uva stared up at him as she lay against his chest. She hummed. “I saw in your thoughts. You have a skill for that—foreshadowing.”

“Yeah,” Shiv chuckled. He turned to face her as they rested. “It’s like the system wants me to be a voyeur. But maybe it also wants me to survive.” He shook his head, remembering Marikos. “That damn dragon. I was just trying to get in to Weave.”

She laughed. “Don’t curse him.”

“Why?” Shiv narrowed his eyes. “He burned me alive. That didn’t feel that good either,” he admitted. “It was a six out of ten.”

“Stop numbering your agonizing deaths. It’s strange. But also… if Dragon-knight hadn’t slain you, we may have missed each other,” she said simply—Shiv thought she was right.

“Well, here’s to Marikos and his stupid tantrum,” Shiv raised an imaginary glass. “So that we can be here right now.”

He sighed in contentment and scratched Uva’s head. She made something of a pleased noise. A few days ago, life in the alcove had seemed great—it was an adventure. But this… this was something else. This might just be a per—

In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something atop the sole remaining—only partially destroyed—cabinet. The bedroom light was destroyed, and without his new cloak, he couldn’t sense well in the dark. When he realized what it was, though, Shiv tensed and cursed. “Ah, shit. Ah, shit!”

“What?” Uva asked, lifting her head in alarm.

Shiv covered his face in shame as he pointed at the dagger he’d left on the table—and forgotten in the throes of lust. There, The Cage of Valor Thann lay, unguarded. A passive observer to a scene of intimacy. Uva immediately recognized the dagger too, and her reaction was even more severe. “Oh, oh, Composer… oh goddess… oh, no.”

She covered her face, and the dagger coughed. “Apologies,” Valor said. “I was meditating as hard as I could to achieve an Absolute Invisibility Skill.”

“No, no,” Shiv interrupted, shuffling awkwardly to his feet. “This is...” He looked at Uva; she hid her face in her hands. “Godsadammit. Shit.”

Valor sighed. “Oh, don’t worry,” the dagger replied, genuinely unbothered. “You’d be surprised how many times I’ve stabbed someone while they were occupied.”

“That kinda sounds like a threat, Valor…”

“Ah. Apologies. I do have a habit of sounding that way when I feel like a cuckold. It is one of my only personality flaws.”

Uva started coughing violently.

“But these things are natural,” Valor said nonchalantly, totally unoffended. “It’s only a shame you forgot of my existence. That’s the only part that truly saddens me.”

“I have no words to convey my shame,” Uva whispered.

Shiv did have words. “Uh… sorry.” And those were his words. “You want to go outside and sit with Adam for a while?” Shiv asked.

At the mention of his name, the Young Lord cried through the closed door, “If either of you come out holding that dagger, I will shoot you! You’ve already deprived me of a full night’s sleep—what is wrong with you two? I live here as well! Other people live here! I went out for a felling walk! A FIVE-HOUR WALK! I COME BACK! AND YOU WERE STILL GOING!”

“Maybe I should just pull the memories out of his mind,” Uva murmured.

“Elf! If you touch my mind, I will shoot you in the head!” Adam cried from the outside.

Shiv blinked as he looked at Uva. “You can do that?”

“Well, people forget things all the time,” he replied.

Shiv smiled slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, they do, don’t they?” 

They maintained eye contact for a while longer before both of them dropped the ruse.

“Yeah, I don’t think I really want to do anything in Adam’s mind,” Shiv admitted.

“Oh, good, how noble of you two!” Adam’s wailed from outside the door. “If you can hear me—if you aren’t doing things to each other right now—I despise the two of you. And I think the rest of the building does as well.”

“He sounds genuinely upset,” Uva observed.

Shiv sighed. “He probably misses his fiancée. He’ll feel better when I make him breakfast in the morning.”

“It better be damn good breakfast!” Adam’s shouted. “It already morning, you monsters. It is morning! Twelve hours! What in the gods—?”

***

“This is damn good breakfast,” Adam said, moaning as he took another bite of Shiv’s omelette. The Deathless yawned slightly as he observed the Young Lord’s satisfaction.

From nearby came soft snoring. Uva lay sleeping on the couch thanks to the unforeseen disasters that befell the bed and the bedroom. Her mana field was still strained, and at some point she’d simply drifted off. Shiv had made sure her food was covered and protected from Adam’s ravenous intentions.

Every few seconds, Adam eyed the guarded plate like a falcon spotting a rabbit in a meadow. “I still haven’t forgiven you,” he said to Shiv, trying to hint at his intent.

“That’s hers,” Shiv insisted. “I’ll make you a bigger lunch—”

“I think I have… just the thing…” Adam mocked, doing Shiv’s voice.

“Wait—you heard that too?” Shiv asked.

Adam stared as if Shiv were the greatest idiot in the world. “Shiv, how many times do I have to tell you how high my Awareness Skill is? I can hear and sense what’s happening in practically every room on this level. I can sense it. And considering you were right next door—and you two have no inhibitions—”

“Okay, okay,” Shiv said hurriedly. “I’m sorry. Sorry I messed up your sleep, Young Lord. I’ll make it up to you later. Wait… Didn’t you go to an academy? There were a lot of people our age there too, right?”

“Yes. And It was hell as well. My Awareness has always been my highest skill, which means short of an insulated, well-warded room, I learn things that I don’t want to all the time.” Adam rubbed his temple. “God, I miss Isabella. I need to get home.”

“We’ll get back there,” Shiv said. “We just need the Composer to let us know where that gate is and how to use it to get back to the surface.”

Shiv then remembered something. “There’s a failure condition in the quest to stop Harkness from bombing Passage… The failure condition is the closing of a Compact gate. I think that’s the one we’re taking back up to the surface.”

“A Compact gate?” Adam looked puzzled. “What’s Compact?”

“I think they’re one of the four Abyssal Factions,” Shiv said, trying to recall. “One of the nations down here focused on dimensionals and demons, apparently.”

“Demons?” Adam flinched. He openly invoked the protection of the Auroral Council.

“I wouldn’t worry yet,” Shiv said. “I don’t know the situation surrounding this gate or the Compact. Maybe we can use it without subterfuge or open conflict.”

“Maybe… maybe heavens will open up and bestow upon us blessings of infinite favor and absolute power,” Adam scoffed.

Shiv considered the Young Lord’s flippancy. “I wouldn’t say I quite got that, but I think my odds are good if that’s our standard.”

Adam was about to declare his hate again before swallowing the last bite of his omelette. “So—what’s our plan in the meantime, until the Composer calls us? I expect a parade in our honor and a formal ceremony declaring us heroes.”

“It’s more likely she’ll play a song for you,” Valor said, “and bestow upon you both a Blessing.”

“A blessing?” Adam sounded intrigued and worried. “A blessing from an Abyssal goddess? Still, even if she’s a spider-woman-thing, she seems nice enough. She hasn’t tired to eat us yet.”

“Yeah,” Shiv agreed, hiding a wince. He thought back to how the Composer casually mentioned killing Adam if he threatened any of her subjects. “She’s nice enough—as long as you talk to her well and don’t lie. Don’t lie to her. She gets mad.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Adam said. “So. Your plans?”

“Well, I think I’m going to do some reading in a while,” Shiv said, “then go out—see the city, maybe stop by the Cradle again, maybe try some restaurants tonight. Training. Practice. I think that’s what I’m going to go for. What about you?”

Adam hesitated. “I was thinking I’d leverage my newfound respect and find a patrol to go on.”

“A patrol?” Shiv asked.

“Yeah,” Adam said. “I don’t like being cooped up in the city. There’s a lot of noise and chaos. I think I’d be more useful outside…

“Because you want to scout the Abyss? Find the gate or some other way up? Can’t blame you,” Shiv sighed. “But we go together. Do not run off on your own.”

Adam’s tone hardened. “While we enjoy our lives as heroes of the Abyssal Faith, our people are dying.”

Shiv’s voice matched his. “I have people there, too. I’m not giving up on them. But if we rush back blindly, we’ll just die. Well. You’ll just die.”

He was about to emphasize how he couldn’t convey how dangerous the actual Abyss was, but his recent intimate education with Uva taught him a few simple truths. “Trust me,” he began—then, without warning, formed a spell of intent and reached into Adam’s mind. He warded his recent experiences away, so Adam wouldn’t be overwhelmed, but fed him a few of his own deaths: at the hands of the weavers in the Umbral Wilderness, at the flames of Marikos, against the high vampire.

As each moment flashed through Adam’s mind, he flinched until he nearly fell from his chair. “Stop! Stop making me experience your deaths—gods!” 

Shiv ended the visions. “Sorry. I just wanted to show you.”

“Show me the enemy—don’t show me you dying,” Adam gasped. “I told you yesterday, I don’t enjoy watching you die. Why would you give me that firsthand?”

“But you understand now,” Shiv said quietly. “I don’t want you to go out on your own—you don’t get a second chance. With people like Marikos flying around… I don’t think Harkness would be running openly without a care in the world.”

“Well, she does have a Legendary Skill capable of blunting a god’s attacks,” Adam said, “and could see her trying to mentally enslave a dragon.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Shiv muttered.

“But I need to do something,” Adam insisted. “I need to be of use.”

“To be of use, you must improve,” Valor said, drawing both men’s eyes to the dagger beside them. “When we next speak to the Composer, she will return a few things to me and loosen the tightness of this cage. I think it’s time for me to take some new disciples…”

“That’s good for you,” Adam said, “but I’ve already been to an academy. More education isn’t what I need—I need practical experience.”

“Yes,” Valor said without offense. “And Shiv has an edge you do not, that goes for you doubly.”

Adam frowned. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome,” Valor replied. “But if you wish to bring down Vicar Sullain, you must be precise, capable, and grow your skills as much as possible. If he’s attacking the surface, the curse remains in effect. He can endure light for a while, but no Abyssal can walk long under the sun. Night will be his time to strike. This will become a war of attrition—favoring him, but taking time. Time you should use wisely.”

“Alright,” Adam said with a sigh. “So what do you have to teach?”

Valor laughed—a deep, arrogant laugh earned through power and pain. “Anything you wish to learn. It’s been some time since I took disciples… Shiv, I agree: you should begin the day with a bit of education. You lack it so far, no?”

“Yeah,” Shiv said.

“Good. I was worried about your mental state before, but I think… I think you should start with the Odes.

“The what?” Adam’s voice trembled. “You don’t mean that disgusting book bound in skin and layered with teeth, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Shiv smirked. “I’ve been looking forward to that one for a while.”

“You’re… absolutely certain?” Adam pressed.

“Yeah,” Shiv said.

“You are insane,” Adam reiterated.

Shiv passed Uva on the couch and tucked her blanket around her. Then he pulled from the table the largest, ugliest book he had bought—the Odes of Blood and Flesh. He stared at it; the foul eyes on the book stared back. With his Psychomancy field, he jabbed at the mind magic spell placed on the book and found himself overwhelmed by its complexity.

“Guess that explains why you’re so expensive,” he murmured.

Without further ado, he opened the pages—and felt himself drawn in mentally. When he surfaced next, he was strapped to a medical gurney, a group of vampires standing over him—their eyes blood-red, their clothing fine but stained with pale aprons.

“Now, my dear students,” a strangely elderly vampire said as he leaned close, “let us begin our first lesson on the mechanics and dynamics of circulation and the fundamentals of blood.”

Shiv regarded the vampires as they licked their fangs. That was threatening, but the topic also seemed very interesting. “Huh. That sounds kind of—”

And then one of the vampires lost control and sank their bladed teeth into his supple neck. Pain flared. Shiv choked. The next thing he knew, he was in another body being wheeled to replace the last person he occupied while the elder vampire chided his student for losing control during a class. 

“--cool,” Shiv finished. Yeah. This’ll be an experience.