The dawn shimmered the day I died.

It was nothing compared to the spectacular sunrises I was used to, but it was better than nothing. Back home, the sky sung a sorrowful song, and the mountains danced in the wake of the stars. My people saluted the morning with effortless joy.

Many years had passed since then—far too many to count. I could scarcely remember those days. But how I wished I could.

Long ago, I had been a soldier, ranking high among my kind. We were all valiant and noble, brave and strong. We thought ourselves invincible. But we were wrong.

I'd been captured. My death had been certain. Only, it came much later than I expected—a few hundred years later.

I escaped—not unscathed, but alive. That was more than I could say for many of my comrades.

Everything had changed, I soon discovered. I was lost among the stars, alone and weak. There was but one option for me.

So I fled to the only planet I was sure to find help: Earth.

My days on Earth were many, but I made good use of them. I was wasting away as it was; fiddling about would do no one any good.

By my calculations, I had but two years to complete my task. I had to gather materials. I had to stop an invasion. I had to save the world.

I had to find the loneliest man in the universe.

I had to find the Doctor.