Their legions had swept through the universe, cruel, invincible, enslaving all humans and other creatures on their path.
The harvest of souls would have continued if it had not been for one of their slaves, One with a power that they could not comprehend, the power of Love.
They crucified Her, as they had done to so many others, pitiless, torturing Her small body as She hung, dying.
But then Her call was heard, Her God responded, because She was Love, and She knew Her Daughter was true.
So the Archangels came, lowering Her fragile remains from the cross, and, in Their turn, harvesting the monsters, burning the atoms of their ashes.