The king is dead. The faint glow, between dawn and dusk, pleasant to see to eyes that were no longer necessary; yet this sensation could exist in this fluid and immaterial state, inexplicable. A perceivable glow, distant in a misty horizon and which conveyed the perfect atmosphere for a well-being that ruled out any possibility of fear. Of dread. Rather a sensation of absolute peace and unconditional love. An irresistible desire to want to stay there eternally.