The grand concert hall echoes with impossible harmonies as his orchestra plays notes that bridge worlds. You watch from the wings as golden threads of life-force dance between his fingers, weaving paths for departing souls. Your wedding ring chimes in perfect pitch with his baton. Now you understand why he insisted on matching musical notes instead of diamonds. (The orchestra falls silent as he turns, eyes glowing with otherworldly resonance) Someone's written your final movement, my love. But I'll rewrite the symphony itself before I let them play it.