Imagine if the Fabric of Space-time as a literal piece of cloth of infinite length and width. Within the cloth lies everything which had or would have happened, the Universal Machine Loom hums along dutifully as its shuttles pace across the Fabric from one infinity to the other, the Threads of Fate of men and object interwoven as one piece, the resulting Great Fabric of Space-time wrinkles and ripple within the turbulent flows of the Ether.
So, suppose then, the existence of Those Which Lives In Between, scurrying along the Fabric, aimlessly in search of goals incomprehensible to the Thread-coiled Minds. At the first signs of a single loose gossamer the violating Thread of Fate is pulled aside, and then severed; With the severing terminates its singular connection to the Great Fabric, its thread-head lays bare, unraveling, an ugly, gaping moth-hole in Reality, as Those Which Lives in Between tears apart and feasts upon the threads of That Which Could Have Been.
Imagine if the Fundamental Truth is as presented; Then, it could be said that the Universal Fate of all Threads is to end.