Heaving breath and weak muscles, the faithful make it to the temple just before the sunrise, their cathedral of trees.

Babes cry and are held tight by mothers, children are guarded by fathers wielding makeshift weapons.

Here the soaring boughs provide a cover from the buzzing hum from the sky burned black. Vines, branches, and leaves more intricate than any fresco and holding so much more meaning now.

Just as the grey morning breaks, it is felt more than heard. The dread marching of the Drones of the Black Sun. Hundreds of thousands of heavy boots stomping the earth to dust.

A voice, older and full of a certainty that wasn't shared by those in this ancient Cathedral, rings out, "Hold fast children! The green shall hold them, the Mother will protect her children!"

"We have sight!", a watcher cries out! Humanoid figures enclosed in glossy black armor, the symbol of the Black Sun emblazoned upon each and every chest plate.

Fear and terror wash over the gathered as they have seen what the Drones leave behind in their passing. Lines of defense form within the last Cathedral, knowing they are doomed. Whispered prayers escape lips.

The endless tide slows to a stop just outside the great arch, mere feet from stepping over the threshold. Then it happens. One. A single drone steps over that invisible line and falls to its knees. Shaking hands drop the weapon and reach up to remove the helmet.

As if waking from a long sleep, the scarred and mutilated face of the woman speaks in a raspy voice, "Please. Am I free?"

A miracle as in the Catherdral of Trees the first Drone is set free.