The heavens churned with fire and wind. Multicolored infernos formed into spinning spheres that swirled chaotically before bursting into bright, glaring showers of light. The landscape outside of Jack's house was cast in late afternoon luminescence, despite the cataclysm overhead. The Earth's sun was dying.
Jack sat on the couch in his living room, transfixed by the events outside. He could tell by the escalating activity that the sun would soon explode. What little attention he could spare was directed at the TV, which was tuned to the series finale of "The Simpsons." He noted that the sun in the show was also exploding, and could not decide if this was a creative move on the part of the show's producers or if the whole idea of trying to compete with Sol's time slot was stupid beyond measure.
His thoughts were cut short by a monumental effusion of white light, signaling the last, greatest output from the dying star. The explosion sent jets of fire and hurricane winds outward, blowing out the windows of Jack's living room. Air elementals reached through the breach, their insubstantial arms grasping in vain for Jack, who quickly retreated further into the house toward The Father. The two stood, watching the elementals.
"Well, that's a good sign, I guess," commented The Father.
