The end of most fairy tales--except the heroes never actually win. I do. Like a highstorm, I am unstoppable. Rain and thunder beat like drums as I approach at speeds no man could ever outrun. When I hit, all falls silent; all hope lost. Your story is gone, forever lost in the incomprehensible darkness that surrounds me for all of eternity.
And yet you fight, don't you? Resistance is mankind's futile struggle to glimmer hope in arrogant eyes: It never works. You couldn't even hurt a fly, what with your stick and slab to replicate that of a sword and shield. To me, you are just a speck of dust. One that flies away when I pass, one that dies upon my grasp.
Hush, hush your mouth. Silence your hand, refrain from flicking your knife. Set down your shield, remove your armour. Come to me, my child. Take my hand and watch the horizon before fate arrives. It's all over, but let the beautiful view show once more. The story never had hope, never had a saving grace.

So please, my child, sit with me, and watch it all go dark.

(i swear this isnt a death threat please dont murder me)