Death - king soul

The king, who was considerably more diffuse now, said, “It’s impressive, I’ll grant you. By the
way, I seem to be fading.”

IT’S THE MORPHOGENETIC FIELD WEAKENING, said Death.

The king’s voice was no louder than a whisper. “Is that what it is?”

IT HAPPENS TO EVERYONE. TRY TO ENJOY IT.

“How?” Now the voice was no more than a shape in the air. JUST BE YOURSELF.

At that moment the king collapsed, growing smaller and smaller in the air as the field finally
collapsed into a tiny, brilliant pinpoint. It happened so quickly that Mort almost missed it. From ghost
to mote in half a second, with a faint sigh.

Death gently caught the glittering thing and stowed it away somewhere under his robe.

“What’s happened to him?” said Mort.

ONLY HE KNOWS, said Death. COME.

“My granny says that dying is like going to sleep,” Mort added, a shade hopefully.

I WOULDN’T KNOW. I HAVE DONE NEITHER.

***

Mort p39-40