Carpe Jugulum (Discworld 23)

Granny tried to line up her thoughts.

Which light and which dark? She hadn't been prepared for this. This didn't feel right. This wasn't the fight she had expected. Whose light? Whose mind was this?

Silly question. She was always her.

Never lose your grip on that...

So... light behind her, darkness in front...

She'd always said witches stood between the light and the dark.

'Am I dyin'?'

YES.

'Will I die?'

YES.

Granny thought this over.

'But from your point of view, everyone is dying and everyone will die, right?'

YES.

'So you aren't actually bein' a lot of help, strictly speakin'.'

I'M SORRY, I THOUGHT YOU WANTED THE TRUTH. PERHAPS YOU WERE EXPECTING JELLY AND ICE CREAM?

'Hah...'

There was no movement in the air, no sound but her own breathing. Just the brilliant white light on one side, and the heavy darkness on the other... waiting.

Granny had listened to people who'd nearly died but had come back, possibly because of a deft thump in the right place or the dislodging of some wayward mouthful that'd gone down the wrong way. Sometimes they talked about seeing a light

That's where she ought to go, a thought told her. But... was the light the way in, or the way out?

Death snapped his fingers.

An image appeared on the sand in front of them. She saw herself, kneeling in front of the anvil. She admired the dramatic effect. She'd always had a streak of theatrics, although she'd never admit it, and she appreciated in a disembodied way the strength with which she had thrust her pain into the iron. Someone had slightly spoiled the effect by putting a kettle on one end.

Death reached down and took a handful of sand. He held it up, and let it slip between his fingers.

CHOOSE, he said. YOU ARE GOOD AT CHOOSING, I BELIEVE.

'Is there any advice you could be givin' me?' said Granny.

CHOOSE RIGHT.

Granny turned to face the sheer white brilliance, and dosed her eyes.

And stepped backwards.

The light dwindled to a tiny distant point and vanished.

The blackness was suddenly all around, closing in like quicksand. There seemed to be no way, no direction. When she moved she did not sense movement.

There was no sound but the faint trickle of sand inside her head.