He is listening, but to who, we will never truly know. His eyes still move wildly and his ears twitch, and yet they still seem to fling in the direction of Aithne when she does lend him her voice. Even if he cannot process it completely, he finds comfort in that voice. Although he body may be reacting more violently and against his will, there is a small part of his mind, so small, that is still intact. He knows that he is lost, that his form is giving way and that his mind is melting in on itself. Whatever was holding his mind together was no longer and power, and something else had been slowly dismantling it. Now, it was being destroyed more quickly. There are moments where he focus on what he once was, what his capabilities before were, but he was unable to make his body react as he wanted.

Yes, her voice was a comfort in the turmoil. A quiet ray of calming light among the clawing demons that hiss at its presence. He cannot stop his twitching, and cannot stop his breathing from going in and out and in and out, so quickly and labored as his tongue tastes blood and mud. He needed Aithne to be his salvation. He needed her to free him from the horrors that is the flesh. There was a reason why he had picked Aithne. She was dedicated and she did what needed to be done. She would not allow him to remain like this, to slowly die from something he cannot control.

He sees the images of Lillith in a kingdom all their own. He sees flashes of Astaroth, his most favored of his blood, and he knows he lives on. He sees Avery and their jaws together sawing off the head of a great elk, how high she has risen in golden light. He feels the presence of Raven quietly peeking her way into the darkness, her brilliant eyes touched with sorrow saying goodbye to him as all else begins to fade. She was of the woman and of Chael, and with him gone how he brought her to be his own child to stand aside Avery. Their eyes, all seems to stare at him, their faces obscured in an unfathomable blackness. There is an unsettling feeling as he looses sensation. He seems to feel a tightness but he barely reacts. It is eyes of yellow that haunt him- eyes of yellow that are not of Lillith- but of Siren. He had not seen his child since the death of his Lillith. He had not known of her fate and yet always knew that her scent on the scene made no sense. Her stare was the only one accompanied by glistening white fangs that seem to dig into his throat. It is then that he finally starts to struggle.

"Si....si," he manages with whatever breath is left as it is truly Aithne who grips him. There is a horror in his eyes, and the world goes in and out from his hallucinations back to a blurred reality. He knew not if it was Siren or Aithne who was ending his life now, as the eyes of Raven and Avery seem to back out. In fact, everything begins to turn to static. The blackness is not even truly black, but jumbled like a lost signal. There is no more feeling. No more struggling. No more eyes that stare and no more laughter of Lillith. No one can really say what- or if- he experiences anything now.

Now, he is just a bag of flesh clad in fur, dead upon what was once his throne. No longer was his throne a reminder for himself of death and to treasure the experience of life. It was a reminder for those who dare gather around him now, that in the end, they too will be food for worms.