But then, as the world collapses, as atoms dissolve, as physics itself finally gives up – she holds onto herself, but it's harder with every passing nanosecond –

As the universe ends, she sees a door.

It's honestly too strange to not open.

And so, Vader steps into Milliways, the very last moments of her universe suspended behind her. She pauses, and she raises her eyebrow at the rather normal bar – though there's a view much like the one she spent a few million years watching out the windows, the final glorious deaths of the galaxies. She looks at it for a long moment with an odd nostalgic fondness, then shakes her head and turns back to the room.

She's far from the only one here – the large room's inhabitants are as wondrously diverse as the most cosmopolitan cantinas in the galaxy, and there's even an effect very helpfully translating their words for her. (She wants to learn, though, every single one of their languages – it's been millions of years since anyone existed.)

"New to Milliways?" a bright voice asks her.

"Is that what this place is called?" She turns to regard the woman who addressed her – a strange mirror of herself. 

"Yep! The restaurant at the end of the universe. People from basically every Creation that ever has been, ever will be, or just might consider being in existence, sometimes open a door to find it leads here instead."

"I'd been wondering why the singularity turned into a door, of all things – I was observing the end of my universe before I came in."

"Oh, neat – I've watched plenty of smaller Creations come and go, being what I am and all, but a fully formed universe ending would be a new treat."

"Sadly, most of the light show already finished – the singularity still exists, though, for a particularly loose definition of 'exist.'"

"And your statement somewhat begs a question – what are you?"

"A goddess, you could say – I was one of the things that predated Creation, before the concept of stable, defined worlds even existed. I came into being when all of everything, everywhere, everywhen was a sea of potential, formless but shapeable. I was one of the storytellers that shaped it, that created little fleeting tales together with my fellows."

"And then a group of storytellers got together, and they created a canon – eternal, supposedly, and stable, in theory. Something that superseded all other stories. And so, the first Universe was created, something that has made many people very angry and has widely been considered a bad move."

She laughs. "Fair enough. Though it isn't all bad, speaking as someone born into a stable universe."

"It was fascinating," she acknowledges. "I wasn't one of the original creators – but I still came by to check it out. Though they weren't exactly friendly about curious guests..."

"Oh? What happened?"

"Most of us they just drove away. Still, we were apparently chipping away at their precious stable canon, with our curiosity, our attempts to reinterpret, even remix things... They did not appreciate anyone else in their sandbox."

"And then... They came up with an idea for a defender of their borders. A goddess of the changing moon, who could circle the world, and both embrace and hold back the madness. None of them wanted the job, so they set a trap. I walked into it, and they chained me to my new identity."

"I'm sorry. I... Know what that's like."

"A lot of us – my and your kind of person – do."

"...You're familiar. Like..."

"A reflection?"

"Yes."

"What did you mean by our kind of person?"