The END by MrGreyMan

Prologue

The Chaos is like an endless charcoal cloud crackling with bright blasts of kaleidoscopic lightening. It’s like an impossible mass of squirming stygian snakes, each with a lone luminescent layer running down their spine. It’s like a dark scintillating gem on the braided band of Order that is the ring of creation. Yet, mostly, it is like itself: the Chaos that Comes Before and After; the Start and the Finish; the Alpha and the Omega.

It’s a theme common in all creation myths, this Chaos. All stories about the beginning know to put the Chaos foremost. Yet each understands it differently. Egyptians described the Chaos as a sea of serpents. The Norse saw it as fire and ice. The Greeks thought of it as an amorphous void. And, the scientists proclaim it to be an empyreal explosion. Whenever mankind pierces the veil of what came first, they see the Chaos. You know this to be true, dear reader. But, most don't know this originating Chaos is also the termination. Perhaps this willful ignorance derives from humanity’s collective fear of the inevitable, of the end. Desperately, in an attempt to escape what all know in deep in their souls is inescapable, all claim the future to be in flux, in chaos. A collective delusion professing death as unknowable. While all instinctually understand the beginning, this same primitive awareness conversely obfuscates the evident symmetry in reality. Time is an ouroboros, a snake eating itself. And in that endless ring of Order, where mouth meets tail, there is Chaos. The past is the future. Anything and everything both begins and ends in the Chaos.

Regardless of its fundamental futility, I will continue explaining, dear reader. I will try to make you comprehend and see within your mind’s eye the true form of the Chaos at the beginning and end of all things, although I know it to be incomprehensible. Ideas cannot encompass the totality of understanding, knowledge, and existence. Words cannot express that which contains all. Yet, sadly, I must use words when communicating with you. Let me try:

Imagine we gaze upon the ring that is all of creation. Our vantage point is an impossible one, for one cannot be outside of spacetime to see spacetime. The very statement “outside of spacetime” is as meaningless as the statement “outside of something that contains all of anything and everything.” Yet, this is where our tale starts (and ‘ends,’ and ‘is;’ tenses are of no help here). As you imagine this unimaginable view, I know you can see in your mind’s eye the figure on the crest where the Chaos crashes into the myriad possibilities of reality. The figure weaving Chaos into Order.

This being is the other common theme in all beliefs. To the Hindu it is Vishnu, to the Muslims it is Allah, and to the determinists it is destiny. Despite this, while all admit to knowing the Chaos, not all recognize a belief in this Supreme Being. Yet, I know you have—in your deepest despair—called out to it. You, as all must, have called into the void: "Why? Why me? Why now?" as if whatever controls the outcome can hear, or care. In more lucid moments you might deny you truly believe in whatever you were calling to, and many truly don’t. But, you know belief isn’t necessary for truth.

And here, from this impossible perspective, we see the truth. A figure stands above the point at which anarchy becomes structure, where unreality resolves into actuality. Fate braids the Chaos into Order. In most beliefs the ultimate being is impassive, aloof. In these religions, if God does care, it is in an impartial way; often so impersonal many have created a relatable intermediary, be it Olofi, Buddha, or Christ.

But, the magnificent figure is neither aloof nor impersonal. From this unattainable angle, we can just see her flawless mouth as reality is knotted by her predominate will. Those sensual lips are quirked upwards in a wry smirk. It is the grin of one who never loses, never is outsmarted, never thwarted. For you know, deep within your heart of hearts, fate cannot be cheated; she can only be appeased or provoked. Lady Luck is not to be trifled with, and you invoke her ire at your peril and her whim. Do not forget this maxim, dear reader. You are hers; mind, body, and—most of all—soul. For, what will you do when your mistress calls? Anything and everything.

Chapter 1

Sarah awoke with a start. Her busty, perfectly-toned body was covered in sweat as the nightmare already started to slip from her waking mind. All she could recall from whatever had so disturbed her was a dark storm and... a smile?

But, depressing thoughts weren’t made for Sarah Saber’s ginger head. S

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