Whispering through the void, It came. Roaming the space between stars, seeking a response to it's own song.

We were not prepared. We were not ready.

It flew through the great gas giants at unparalelled speeds. Always on a straight path to Earth.

Then the gates were revealed.

It brought after itself something great, something unfathomable, something malicious.

The tendrils appeared out of time itself. Time and space bent and shattered. Earth was swallowed into a realm of chaos.

I do not know wether my immortality was unique, or wether all of us roam somewhere between the planes.

Some places lie in a standstill, the fearful and questioning eyes of the damned staring into the darkness. Other patches float in the past, still in their old world, blisfully unaware of what had happened, or, for them, what will happen and then reset again.

The past lives on and is reborn once again.

The present cast in endless fear.

I roam alone, moving through past and present, through this world that died and was cast unto an eternal hell. Ripped away from the Sun and the stars. I write what has happened and leave these notes wherever time kept on, where the dead are piled mile high and even the winds are dark and lifeless.

I seek death. I watch the world.
I watch the end. I am the end.

I am death. I saw all die.