Den 1. Januar stierft en, dee coolsten Dokter vun hinnen all. An dat lescht Kapitel ass esou schéin düster, esou melancholesch, esou schwéierfälleg. E brécht an Tréinen aus, en gëtt zou dass en aleng ass, beicht dass e vill Feeler gemaach huet, färt den Doud ewéi och all Mënsch färt. De Master schwelgt an Erënnerungen un déi rout Wise vu Galifrey, an et gesäit een ewéi en endgülteg Opfer vu sengem eegene Wahnsinn gouf. An och wann de Master mengt, hie kéint säin Zil areeche – lues a lues fügt sech d’Bild zesummen ewéi ee Puzzel, zu engem bombastesche Cliffhanger dee kee jeemools kéint virausgesinn…
I’m travelling alone. I thought it was better, but I did some things… it went wrong.
The noise… The drumbeat… Louder than ever before. The drums… The neverending drums. Oh, I have missed them.
And so it came to pass that the players took their final places, making ready the events that were to come. A madman, sat in his empire of dust and ashes, little knowing of the glory he would achieve, while his saviour looked upon the wilderness in the hope of changing his inevitable fate. Far away, the idiots and fools dreamt of a shining new future, a future now doomed to never happen. As Earth rolled onwards into night, the people of that world did sleep and shiver, somehow knowing that dawn would bring only one thing: the final day.
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