The House on the Borderland by William Hope Hodgson

Years melted into the past, centuries, aeons. The light of the incandescent star sank to a furious red.

It was later that I saw the dark nebula -- at first an impalpable cloud, away to my right. It grew, steadily, to a clot of blackness in the night. How long I watched, it is impossible to say; for time, as we count it, was a thing of the past. It came closer, a shapeless monstrosity of darkness -- tremendous. It seemed to slip across the night, sleepily -- a very hell-fog. Slowly, it slid nearer, and passed into the void, between me and the Central Suns. It was as though a curtain had been drawn before my vision. A strange tremor of fear took me, and a fresh sense of wonder.