Her whole world fell apart before her eyes; everything vanished into the earth from once it came. Tears trickled uncontrollably from the corner of her ice-blue eyes. Nothing was worse than the apocalypse of everything, not even dire death itself. But, then again, dire death was a part of her apocalypse fore everyone else was acclaimed and swept to another place by none other than the blackly cloaked harbinger of bereavement.

A hand clamped down on her bare right shoulder where a silver thread weaved through her skin, closing her two inch long wound with its stitching. She turned toward the hand. A man was standing there behind her. But, nothing mattered anymore; there was nothing that she could do now to change anything. All hope was lost and the man could see that in her eyes before he spoke.

"You have a choice. This does not have to happen, fate has told me so."

She just shook her head and fell to her muddied knees over the pile of rubble which once was the walls of her home. The man stood there, the same place he stood when he spoke to her, deciding his move. He shook his head and walked away. He knew that nothing he could do would matter, not until time was right, but he knew that the world could not wait that long. He could not wait that long. With every minute angle that the sun turned, though heavily veiled by angry red haze, time itself diminished. Without her, nothing was possible; she was the only one that could do anything. No sliver of hope shone through the blackest time. Pandemonium was damnation of this world, past the expiration it would bring.