The moment Azathoth slammed the cosmic book shut, the sound was not a bang, but a terrifying, absolute silence.
It was the sound of a heart stopping; the sound of a clock's gears grinding to a halt.
Then, at that exact moment, all of creation, the ten universes, the millions of stars, the swirling nebulae of the Hyperverse, all of them froze in a stasis of non-existence.
The vibrant purple of the Underworld and the golden radiance of the Empyrean were bleached into a static, grey photograph.
Hades stood at the center of this collapsing reality, his face a mask of regal agony as he groaned while the "Ink" of his existence began to peel away.
First his clothes dissolved into thin, pencil-like sketches; then his skin turned to translucent parchment.
His tall, divine form vanished, shrinking and fading until eventually, only a small fragmented soul, containing all his powers, remained.
