I know how the world will end. There will be soldiers marching through the countryside to come and take our lives, rifles brandished and boots polished. On their heels will be the cavalry, horses trampling the meadows we so carefully attended. Balanced on their pikes shall be the heads of the people they've already killed, gods and mortals alike. Last of all shall be their ruler, the king to destroy all kings, and he will command his ranks to grind us into the dust. I know this to be true because I heard the plans myself. His army is self-assured, and confidence is one step away from complacency.
Make no mistake, we will die by their hands. They will corner us if we flee to the mountains, and the ocean will not be kind to us if we set sail. But it would mean the world to me if you took my hand when the soldiers break down our door, if you would only allow it. Just to show them that even in the face of death, our love never faltered.