For a moment, all Stephen could see was pure darkness.

It wasn't just the regular kind of dark you get when you switch off all the lights in a room. It was something deeper than that - something no-one could fully understand. It was as if the dark wasn't just surrounding him but was in him - penetrating and suffocating his soul. 

Stephen felt crushed, squashed by the infinite void stretching beyond the limits of space. But it wasn't just like the cosmos we knew that lied above our heads, which humans considered infinite. No, infinity was a human concept. This was beyond it.

This was the end of times.

And somehow Stephen felt it was much closer than you might think.

Stephen turned around - or at least what was the closest to it in this dimension - and suddenly spotted a shimmering light in the horizon - somehow glowing with a strange gleam, like a bonfire, but much, much brighter, almost blinding. He couldn't tell how far it was, but it seemed like it was drawing him to it. He felt a physical pull, and a whispering voice in the back of his mind, telling him to go and see what it was.

The light seemed to call out for him. He could almost hear it whisper his name. 

But he didn't have the time to go closer and check out what it was, because all of a sudden he felt a tugging pull as if he was being sucked in by a gigantic vacuum cleaner. He couldn't resist, just watch helplessly as it dragged him downwards. 

He felt hurtled in every direction, pulled apart by an invisible force. He was going to be torn up, blasted to shreds in this cold and hostile place, and no-one would know. No-one would care. He felt his heart beat so fast it seemed like it would tear itself out of his chest, his lungs almost exploding, out of air, his brain overloading with information he couldn't begin to comprehend.

He wasn't just dying. He was being removed from the world, every trace of his existence destroyed, as if he was never there in the first place. He was undoing the past. And by doing so, he was removing himself from History.

It was too late to regret, too late to feel stupid. Too late to think twice. He'd done it, and he was facing the consequences. 

But his fate seemed to choose otherwise. All of a sudden, he felt sucked downwards, as if pushed into quicksands. He heard a whooshing sound like he was in the middle of a hurricane, then an earsplitting crack, then nothing.

Everything disappeared around him, and he found himself standing on a boulder, overlooking a small crater. Stunned at first, he quickly recovered his senses and scanned his surroundings.

He was in the middle of a desolated land, the air thick with fire smoke, a lingering atmosphere of death and destruction. He recalled this place... and not in a good way. 

Stephen knew where he was. He recognized the smoldering wreckage, the debris littering the ground, the dust - it was just like in his memory. Although he'd thought - hoped - he would never have to come back. 

Well, guess he was wrong.

Hold on, he thought. If this place was really the one he thought it was... and he'd been transported to the right moment... then he would be here.

Slowly, calculating every one of his movements, he tiptoed over to the edge of the crater and peered down.

It was hard to see because of the dust and smoke, but he saw a large form, sitting on a rock. The silhouette was holding a huge spear, and seemed to be awaiting something.

It was him.

Thanos.