Smoke writhed around her as she lay gasping on hard ground. The skies were burning, and each breath seared her lungs like the fire from a thousand stars. She could feel the change beginning, but she fought against it as agony threatened to send her tumbling into darkness. Energy cracked across the sky as the invaders ravaged her world. Like her brethren, she had fought and died for the cause, being brought back over and over again to crash against the might of the enemy hordes. And yet, none saw the futility of their struggle. She knew her only chance for survival was to escape. Escape the fire and the endless cycle of death and rebirth. The horrors she had seen had etched themselves in her mind, but she used the fear. The base instinct of survival filled her, and she clawed her way across the barren field towards her salvation. If she could reach the box before he did, she would have a chance. Her hatred for what he had done to her people compelled her to fight both the change, and continue onward. He had brought her people to their knees, but she would leave him to die with them. She crawled for what seemed like hours, but stopped when the shadow fell across her. She looked into the face of the destroyer of her people, and her heart fell. Pity filled his eyes, and the lines etched across his face grew deeper.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry." He opened the door of his blue box, and it faded from view, as he left his world to burn.