The last time he died, it was something like this. The feeling is familiar, the way death soaks up like dye in a wet rag. The way his body starts going cold, the strange spasms in his throat that he can't even feel trying to drag in breath. The sky above lilts easy as a song.

But rather than blotting out life, death is wiping out the sort of half-living state he's found himself in since the Avoxing.

He dies with only Holidays embrace warming him, and for that he is grateful.