The world ended with a cacophony of quiet.
No-one reacted, no-one moved as life was ungraciously torn asunder accompanied by nothing more than a vague feeling of disquiet. The stitching between realities evaporated and the Poem of Endings began to flow through.
People heard it first in their minds; the strange sibilance and guttural consonants of the inhuman language. It was new and strange. They ignored it. The gaps between atoms grew larger and more words seeped through as the armies of madness manoeuvred their siege engines on The Other Side. The words grew louder with the incessant but rhythmically impossible beating of inhuman drums joining the sound. They heard it in their minds as they heard it in their ears: a primeval language whose meaning lay just beyond the grasp of their finite intellects.
Atoms were pushed apart: solid objects became pliable, water turned to invisible gas, everything changed. The words rang out continuously: now a roar above all else, a litany of woe seeping through to human ears. It was a sound that was different from all other sounds. At once both shrill and soft: alien yet recognisable. Rumours of madness floated on the wind and people tore their ears out rather than hear another word of that language. All suffered and went insane as the armies recanted their stanzas of doom.
As reality split and the inhuman armies poured into vision, the words stopped and all was still.
They were so relieved, they didn’t care as their bodies began to liquefy. As the materiel was swept into darkness. The Poem ended with nothing.