So the sled-master was gone. Night had fallen. Musings coming and going. He thought that they would never be of any consequence. As it always had, as he always felt, he felt darkness flooding his very soul. He worked himself towards his home. War was brewing. Autonomy brings strife. Visitors would come and pass. There was something more to it. His own spark was fading. He could not consider his arm his own. He could not consider his body his own. He could not consider his mind his own. He could not consider his will his own. These would all come to pass. Perhaps some splinter could live on. But there was no one to inherit it- Perhaps it would be improper for any part of him to live on. And so the world went on. War was coming. He could only utter “Do not be afraid” and keep on. There was certainly a spark.

The world would be flipped.

Something was coming. 

The End of Everything.