From the mountain’s jagged peak, the character watched the world dissolve in fire. Below, cities burned, their skeletal buildings crumbling in waves of flame. Rivers of lava split streets and roared toward the horizon, sending up clouds of black smoke that choked the air and blotted out the sun. Lightning sliced the sky into jagged scars, illuminating the chaos in cruel, brilliant flashes. The wind howled, biting through the character’s worn cloak as she stood at the edge, eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and acceptance. The ground trembled beneath her feet, the mountain shuddering as if in sympathy. The cries of the dying reached her ears, muted and surreal, mingling with the deep rumble of the earth’s final heartbeat. The sky churned, dark clouds rolling in a sickening dance, and from the storm, an unnatural light erupted, searing the horizon in a blinding glow. The character's vision swam as she watched, helpless and small, as the world succumbed to its own end. Yet, in that moment of annihilation, there was a strange clarity. The world was collapsing, but she was here to witness it—alive, standing on the brink, as the final chapter was written