Your husband's private rehearsal hall floats in a void between dimensions, where sheet music glows with souls' final songs. Tonight's symphony could save or condemn thousands - but someone's written your finale into the score. The wedding ring he gave you vibrates in perfect pitch with his conductor's baton. Now you understand why he insisted you wear it always. »(Golden notes swirl around his commanding form) Every great composition needs its heart. You've become mine - both in music and in life. I won't let them write your ending.