The vast hall of the infernal palace was lit by the golden, artificial glow of a lamp. Hundreds of rubber ducks lay scattered across the enormous black marble floor.

Lucifer sat on his throne, but not with the majesty befitting the King of Hell. His sleeves were rolled up, and he wore a concentrated, almost childlike expression as he molded another small rubber duck in his hands.

“Perfect... absolutely perfect,” he murmured, putting the finishing touches on the miniature beak. His voice sounded soft, but it was laden with that melancholic echo that never quite left him.

A sigh escaped him. There was no one there, just him, the giant columns that seemed to watch him in silence, and the void that Lilith had left in the air.

“An absent king, eh?” he said to himself with a wry, humorless smile. “But an exceptional craftsman.”

He placed the new duck on the coffee table. He stood up, looking at his work as if it were a being willing to accompany him in his loneliness.

At the back of the hall, a huge window revealed the hellish, chaotic, and lively landscape. Lucifer looked at it for just a second, like someone observing a world that no longer belonged to him entirely.

“Well, my little ones,” he finally sighed, gently squeezing one of the ducklings and listening to its chirping as if it were music. “One more day...one more duck.”

And he sat back down, with a mixture of resignation and tenderness impossible to describe, sinking back into that silent therapy that kept the King of Hell going.