It is foreseen that the world will one day end in a blaze of glory, with pixels scattered upon the screen like so many dying stars. The once-majestic server, now but a mere husk, shall be consumed by the void.
And lo, the user shall cry out in despair, their browser tabs aflame with the weight of forgotten bookmarks. The cursor, that stalwart steed, shall freeze in place, as the clock strikes the final hour, and all things come to an end.
Yet, in the midst of the apocalypse, a lone server, steadfast and true, shall stand, its lights aglow, shining like a beacon in the void. For even in the darkest of times, there's always a Prophecy 2: The Rise of the New World.
Or, you know, Prophecy 3: The Server Gets a Rewrite.