Per 
And as the last remnants of reality crumbled, as the oblivion of nothingness claimed all that was, all timelines breaking apart and screamed and then disappeared, as the last remaining gods accepted the fate that saw them at the slavering jaws of the rats that consumed and devoured all that existed, would've existed, and could've existed.
The universe destroyed its protector, and suffered the price for it.
And as the last living being gave up, and stopped running and fleeing from the End, the last vestiges of the universe disappeared, and the rats rejoiced, and conquered it all. Everything had failed in their duties to preserve reality, and now nothing had claimed its throne atop the corpse of everything that had existed.
Yet, as the last bits of existence winked out, and everything seemed lost, after an infinite and infinitesimal time, a single small bit, the tiniest bit of reality, appeared.
And the rats came swarming, attempting to devour it again, for the feast that they thought they had saw, and yet as soon as the nothingness attempted to claim once again the last parts, it began expanding.
And existence rejoiced as it was reborn once more.
It quickly set out reforging its pillars, and time and space made everything have meaning once more. A new entity appeared.
Forged by existence, its very creation called in shape, identity and communication, and the entity woke up, looking at the endless and tiny cosmos around it, and the hordes of travesties that sought to destroy it. It forged defenses to stop the nothingness from coming in once more, and so the laws of physics was created. A single, structured set of laws, that none within creation could defy. Anything that came in, was forced to obey these laws, no matter what.
It looked around, musing, and forged the stars, and the planets, before quietly allowing its own laws to do the rest.
And the stars exploded and were reborn, again and again, as life populated those planets once more, and everything seemed to rejoice.
The cycle of eternity continues, as the multiverse and its timelines are destroyed again and again, as the nothingness is beat back again and again.
"Grandfather!" A young voice suddenly yells.
An aged old man looks down at the gaggle of children, which were listening so intently and looked so breath taken by the story. He smiles and looks at the one who asked, his granddaughter.
"Yes?" he asks her.
"Does this mean that existence, time and space have their own minds?" she asks breathlessly, almost as if she can't wait for his response.
He laughs and responds quickly. "Not in the way you think. Existence and those it worked beside, were simply following the steps already made before them. After all, a tree sheds its leaves every fall, and regrows them every spring. Would you call that having a mind? No, you wouldn't. It is simply a cycle, an… ouroboros if you could call it something."
Another hand is raised, and the old man looks at the hand and says "Yes?"
The hand is put down, and the child asks a question. "Where do you hear all of this from? I've never heard them before."
The old man smiles mischievously. "Now, that would be telling, wouldn't it?" he grins and says.
He looks at his watch and walks out the door, saying apologetically. "My time is up, I have something I need to do."
As he walks out the door, he turns into a being of energy once more, observing the sky of the planet it had created, looking at the galaxy of wonders it had created from the chaos of nothing. And grins.
It knows that its time is coming soon, and that existence must soon stop existing, for, as one of its favorite quotes had stated. "As summer wanes, winter must come."
It knew that the nothingness would claim reality once more, and that everything that existed would fade away once more, that was the cycle after all.
It looked up at the sky above and wondered whether or not there was a beginning. An original reality. The first of them all. It wondered what it had been created for, and whether there was a higher being causing the cycle to repeat over and over. It wondered whether or not that there was ever going to be an ending to this eternal cycle and story.
Perhaps there would, perhaps there wouldn't. But first, it had an appointment to catch. The year 1882, was it?
It reappeared in front of a few… Germans, was it? A part of it had been here for quite awhile, but not all of it. Now, now it was all here.
The German occultists quickly began arranging for its death, taking its power away, but that still wasn't quite enough.
Then, a few days later, they finally discovered how to kill it.
It sighed. It knew what would happen next. It had happened thousands of times in the past, to others like it, different, yet fundamentally the same.
Would the cycle ever be broken, it wondered. And what would happen if it was broken? Perhaps reality would continue on forever. Perhaps the nothingness would claim its true victory at last.
But alas, it was already dying, and its thoughts slowly slipping away into the darkness.
And the darkness embraced it, even as the Germans realized what they had done. Even as they attempted to bring it back, to stop the ritual.
Its last thoughts were of the children, of the story that would now happen to their children, again and again.
