Sylvia stood entirely paralyzed, suspended in a state of absolute perplexity. She had existed for eons alongside the personification of Death, knowing him only as an unyielding, immutable force of nature. To her, and to the cosmos, the King of Hell was incapable of feeling. Yet, the impossible was unfolding right before her eyes. Ken had done the unthinkable; he had carved a heart into the chest of Death, making a human out of an immortal god.
She remained a few paces behind his throne, stunned into a profound silence. She ventured another glance at the dark, polished mirror in the corner, but the illusion did not shatter. The tears remained, glistening against his porcelain skin.
On the monitoring screen, the frantic, soul-shattering wails finally ceased. Ken had screamed himself to the point of absolute physical exhaustion, his fragile body going completely limp as he passed out onto the cold, wet tiles of the bathroom floor.
