It was a backwards memory of an event in his future so terrifying that it had generated harmonics of fear all the way along his lifeline.

“Wbrew plotkom, Śmierć nie jest okrutny; jest po prostu perfekcyjny, straszliwie…”

“IT'S A SWORD, said the Hogfather. THEY'RE NOT /MEANT/ TO BE SAFE.”

“He was up against a mind that regarded truth as a reference point but certainly…”

“Perhaps the magic would last, perhaps it wouldn't. But then again, what does?”