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.