After leaving the Hall of Judgment, Moros strode straight to his dark palace in the Hall of Void. His steps were urgent, as if one more second out in the void would drain his energy and pull him into utter desolation.
The palace workers, practically the lost souls, glanced at their master in bewilderment. But then, like goldfish, the sight of their master's arrival slipped from their memory, and they resumed their assigned work.
Moros entered his study, clutching his chest. His knees gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, coughing heavily. His rotten face trembled for a moment. Only when the decayed remnants of Marius's soul left his body did his coughing subside.
The distorted soul floated in the air until a shadow emerged from the wall, its hooked beak opening to swallow the soul whole. Moros heaved for breath, gripping a nearby seat to pull himself upright.
