It was a rather messy pile of combustion residue, so badly burned that its original shape was impossible to make out—though it hadn't really had anything one could call a "shape" to begin with.
The inside had burned away, and the outer shell of carbon had collapsed, crumbling into a mass that could only be described as a "pile." To make an inapt comparison, it was like boiling an egg without water and realizing too late.
He stepped over the blackened fragments scattered across the ground, skirted the charcoal where little flames still flickered, and felt the soles of his shoes grow hot against the ground, which still radiated heat.
The air here still felt a little gritty, dust from the fire drifting about. Kraft pulled up one side of his collar to cover his mouth and nose, approached the large mass of charcoal still smoking, and used his sword to pry away a small piece of the crust.
It was probably once a thicker section of tissue. The core hadn't had time to contract as it burned, retaining a considerable amount of moisture and a little of its original structure. The fire hadn't consumed it completely; if anything, it had even served as insulation. But in the end, that made no difference.
The embedded bone plates he'd seen earlier had all lost their support and fallen into the pile of remains, mixing with the other messy debris and making it extremely difficult to tell anything apart. He had no idea where to start.
Kraft lit another candelabrum and carried it over. Using two small pieces of wood that it had knocked loose earlier, he poked through the remains, somewhere between a corpse and ashes, wondering if he could find anything of value in them.
"Tsk."
He made a sound