The distant sounds, like echoes on the faint winds, like the whispers trickling into his ear. Howls the Dark Lord of the Sith had heard only too often. Voices cry out in pain, shrieks of malevolent terror. Fires erupt around them, beings clad in armor with weapons of war. Though not as one, many stand together, united by instinct. By fear. Fear of those they war against, fear of a power they have never faced before. Their sweat becomes as blood, their hearts bleed from within. Machines rain down from the skies above and blanket the charred soil like brimstone from the wrath of gods. Blaster bolts of burning plasma boar through the air like beams of light on a battlefield of darkness. But it is not enough. They know they face death's relenting door, but they stand firm. One stands in the ashes of his fallen brethren, raising his gun as he screams in the vortex of the battle. Blood trickles down his face, and his pupils dilate from the intense light on his weapon. And in the thrall of his final stand, his screams stop. His face drops and his eyes open in horror and despair as another light overtakes him, expunging him from the only world he would ever know.
"Welcome to the End."
The Dark Lord turns around, only to behold frigidity in an infinite expanse of ice and stone. He looks about, to the left and the right, and yet all traces of the place he once was had been eradicated. The air crushed and tore all in its wake, like a maelstrom of bladed hail, a freezing tempest without equal. And around him was darkness, not a star's light or a sun's warmth shone down over him. And then, suddenly, the darkness retracted, and the world around him became as the clearness of any illuminating day. Everything was white, all around him, as if time had reversed. And before his feet, there was an archway, a pylon, set up as if a ruin of an era long, long ago. And the darkness was still within, as if trapped inside. And a bright light, brighter than any light he'd seen before, was placed at the front of the pylon.
The Dark Lord's eyes began to drift, and unbeknownst to him, a figure of perpetual darkness stood, facing the archway. He stood as a man, as any man, but there was something unnatural of him. Everything of his essence was dark, almost like a nothingness, and yet he stood, he lived. No light reflected onto him, or off of him. It was as if he almost was not even there. And all the same, the Dark Lord somehow knew, it was this dark man's voice he'd heard.
"The end of what?"
The Dark Man slowly looked behind him, yet without his mouth opening, a voice reached the Dark Lord.
"Everything."
Exodeus' eyes narrowed as he meant to grasp the meaning of such words.
"Do you mean the Sith? The Jedi?"
"No.." the figure said, turning his body around, and using his mouth, spoke again, "Everything you have every known, is at an end. The appointed time draws near - this reckoning cannot be denied. The suns will be darkened, the moons will be silenced. The stars you've scarcely known will be purged, and the worlds themselves will be shattered. An eternity of a new dawn, and forever in eternity."
And at that, the dark man vanished, as if evaporating into a thin smoke or mist. A piercing screeching penetrated the vicinity around him as the stone pylons began to crack and fracture. And as if an explosion, the darkness became unleashed, expanding in waves as it burst forth from whist it dwelt. And as it emerged, omnipresent it was, as it was as if the Dark Lord had been stricken with blindness, forbidden to see, or perhaps there was no longer anything left to see for his eyes.
The Dark Lord's crimson eyes burst open, as if a mounted pressure had been released from off his eyelids. His body had been covered in a cold sweat, and his skin cold to the touch. His breathing was deep, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel it in his pulse, even more erratic than usual. It was not unusual for Exodeus to induce visions and dreamlike episodes. But they had always been vague, non-definitive. Never before had he had a vision of such intensity. But then, he'd long learned that even what appears obvious is full of deceptions, infinite in interpretation. And such was the nature of the Force.
"I know you are here, Andraste," Exodeus said, his head still down and legs crossed from deep mediation.