And there he was, slumped down. Sat in front of his friend's decapitated head, staring into it blankly. Was this the death he wanted? He wasn't too certain himself, being literally stabbed in his back wasn't the way he expected. And just like that, his life flashed before his eyes. All those misadventures Skulduggery and he had as children, his mother and father, meeting the dead men, the war, -everything-.
He finally gave in and fell to the floor, it probably would've hurt him, but all he felt was numbness all through his body. He was led there- bleeding to death in the room he had felt the safest in, his eyes were glancing directly into Shudder's now. "Looks like we were the ones elected to die." He silently mouthed to himself and attempted to grimace. He wasn't ready to go yet, he still had to do so many things, he was yet to ever have that steak with Tanith, he had to say goodbye to Valkyrie. He still had to finish up his adventures with the dead men. But most of all, he wasn't ready to let go of Skulduggery.
His eyes began to grow heavy, he couldn't hear anything and he just lay there, ready to die. He began to gently whimper. He thought about all of the things wrong in his life, Sanguine and Tanith were together, Ravel and Mist were working together, it was all wrong.
Then finally, he accepted it. He had lived his life to the fullest he could, there was no going back now. He began to relax, and saw the light. He could see his mother, his friends, everyone. With his last ounce of life he quietly whispers "Fashion- it's life or-…"
And with that, Ghastly Bespoke died.