I have been troubled of late...
Recurring dreams... are they products of worry, or foreshadowings?
I dreamt of a museum; relics of dead cultures festooning the walls. None of the exhibits were worth remembering, except one pair. On the wall, a large, stone mural, its carvings of Fenrir and his wolves leaping, attacking, ravaging the last few men left - a prophecy of the end of the world. Its sandstone almost dripping the blood of those already fallen.
In front, a raised platform, a large horn of bronze, even with its curls easily three metres long. Undecorated, its simplicity belies its nature. This horn, I knew without hesitation or possibility of error, was the horn; the horn that opened the gate, and shattered the chains that bound Fenrir.
I knew that the time had come, that what was to happen had to happen. There was no time better, or worse. It had been written, it must be. I knew that I could not permit anyone else to take the burden of responsibility for what was to happen, I had to press my lips to the mouth-piece. Without allowing my steps to falter, I stepped forward and embraced the end of this world.
A long, sonorous note came forth, a note not before heard in history; I stepped back and waited, the moments of silence only interrupted by my own heart. Then, I heard the start of the end. A soft scraping, the stone mural pulled apart, mist pouring out and a swallowing blackness beyond. Only when the carving had opened its fullest extent did the howling of wolves begin.
I pulled out the shotgun I found slung across my back as the wolves leapt out, ignoring me on the way to do their tasks, the obsidian skin of the beasts sleek, only allowing a glimpse at the chaos. The few rounds fired from the shotgun found their targets, yet I knew that it would be insufficient to deal with the hordes. My body stretched and changed, taking a more panther-like form, giving me claws to rend, and a mouth capable of snapping their necks or choking the beasts.
I knew that, while I might not last to the very end, I could and would make a good account of myself - I had called the darkness forth, and begun battling it. I had accepted all the responsibility and blame, but knew that from the destruction, new life and a new world would eventually come.