Organic Permutation

CW: auto-cannibalism, gore

It is with good reason sorcery is outlawed many places around the world, with some rituals bordering on the unspeakable. In the blasphemous pursuit of power and immortality, there are witches that seek to replace their organs with lifeless object. The ritual of organic permutation. The closer to death, the closer to undeath. And the farther removed from life, the more obscure their sorcery becomes.

The process

The ritual has no 'magic' method that is sure to result in successful organ replacement. Those that survive the process haven't the mind to write it down or speak of it to others, lest a rival witch seeks to surpass their powers. And even if they did, it is unlikely the same methods would work for anyone else; The ritual is deeply personalized, unique to each witch. No, a witch seeking the deathly allure of organic permutation will have to find their way through instinct, producing their own recipe.

What items may call to the witch? Does the heart beat faster at the sight of a ripe apple? Maybe air is forced from lungs as their hand touches a patch of damp moss? Eyes twitch at the sight of a button; ribs press against outer flesh as twigs snap under their step; bladder fills instantly as they hear the clink of a glass bottle. "Maybe..." they think. "Maybe my liver could be replaced with a living rat?" Once the thought of performing the ritual becomes palatable, they choose neither organ nor item. It calls to them.

Sharpened blade, earthen vessels, tongs and pliers, unique as rituals may be, there are some constants. To replace your organs, you must first remove the originals. The pain is beyond comprehension, yet it is essential; it is believed that enduring this agony awakens the items' latent magic. Passing out means death. Working too slow means death. Even success may still result in death.

With a blade as sharp as winter's bite,
I cut with care, I carve just right,
Remove the beat, the life, the start,
And prepare to swap with nature's art.

An apple red, with secrets deep,
In its flesh, dark mysteries sleep.
I place it where my heart once lay,
A fruit to keep the dark at bay.

"By leaf and bough, may root embed,
Let this apple take my heart's stead.
In its core, let my power swell,
Bound by this forbidden spell."

With every beat, let magic flow,
From the apple's skin to the earth below.
In its crunch, a new rhythm starts,
A witch reborn, with apple heart.

A beating heart is put on a platter, and in blood-filled cavity an apple is placed. Or a rock. Maybe a shard of ice? Or a human hand, perhaps, likely not ethically sourced? To the sounds of gurgling rhymes, veins move to enclose their new master, which in turn starts pumping as its predecessor did. The witch yet lives.

The final, and perhaps most disturbing part of the ritual, is the consumption of the removed organ. This act is not merely for shock; it is a sacred communion, a final surrender to the dark forces that the witch seeks to harness. As she consumes her former self, so is former weakness lost. A heart can only beat for so long, but an enchanted apple? There's no telling how long it will beat.

Why? And how?

Great questions. Some things merely are. The sun shines above, the ground exists below. And replacing the organs of a witch with mundane items greatly increases their powers. Likely some fool tried it once upon a time, and finding it to work, more fools followed.

A solid, though vague theory exists through the belief of Sanctism. In sanctism, direct knowlegde of divinity and mightier powers is strictly forbidden, lest you are a saint. Mayhaps organic permutation is the harnessing of divine powers through strange and unfathomable means? Maybe that is the reason all witches are considered blasphemers in the eyes of sanctists?