When the universe first burst into creation - a seething ball of entropy and life and light and potential - the Damoclean Shard already hung in place, its weft-shearing blade hovering in interdimensional space, ready to snuff out all that ever had been.

But the Shard kept its peace.

It holds, still, to the end of time; only then it will fall, its strike heralding the end of all things, and a new beginning drawn from ash and entrail.