Nine months before the Emperor’s murder, Harrowhark the First is aboard the Erebos, the Emperor Undying’s flagship, in its hospital quarter. Newly made a Lyctor, Harrowhark repeatedly tries to pick up a large two-handed sword, but the weapon seems to burn and reject her. Harrowhark armors Harrowhark’s hands with cartilage and bone constructs to lift it, but Harrowhark gains no instinctive mastery and vomits violently when the sword falls away.

Harrowhark remembers that the man Harrowhark calls God gave Harrowhark the sword gently, but the gift sent Harrowhark into a lasting stupor. Since then, Harrowhark has kept trying to wield the blade, and every attempt ends in sickness, pain, and rage. Harrowhark experiences time in broken fragments, lying in unfamiliar clothes, disturbed by Harrowhark’s growing hair and the absence of Ninth House robes, mask, and blessed face paint.

Unable to bear an uncovered face, Harrowhark tears a sheet into a veil and finally opens a vein to paint the sacramental skull of the Inglorious Mask in blood. Around Harrowhark, uniformed attendants continue their duties and speak of supplies, munitions, and schedules, mostly ignoring Harrowhark except when necessary. Harrowhark is terrified by the stars outside the hospital window and drifts in and out of consciousness.

Harrowhark’s new Lyctoral perceptions overwhelm Harrowhark: Harrowhark hears seven hundred and eight beating hearts and brains aboard the ship and can distinguish the three hundred and four necromancers among them. Harrowhark also senses dust, lungs, marrow, and other bodily processes with painful intensity. Amid these fractured perceptions, Harrowhark sometimes forgets who Harrowhark is and weeps on remembering.

The Body comes to Harrowhark during these episodes, placing dead, cool hands on Harrowhark’s forehead and guiding Harrowhark back to bed. Harrowhark feels comforted and obedient, believing the Body’s touch is almost tangible and sensing that the Body’s presence is important, though Harrowhark cannot stay awake long enough to understand why.

Harrowhark clings to basic facts: the white sterile room is on the Erebos, and Harrowhark has a bed, a chair, and the sword. After someone once tried to remove the sword and some red, wet, half-remembered incident followed, no one touches it again. Harrowhark loathes the weapon and wants it destroyed, yet believes it must not pass into anyone else’s hands, so Harrowhark keeps it close while drifting between prayer, fury, and the relieving thought that Harrowhark might already be dead.