They tried to fight back, once upon a time. That is when the clouds came, gas rolling down the hills, choking the life out of those who still possessed strength. Leaving them laying in the streets, choking on their own fluids.
So many have been lost...
But among them moves their savior.
For a time, he worked alone. A lone man in a lone church, with a name that was not his, in clothes that were not his, from a home that was not his. But soon, others joined.
Their faith, like their clothes, were little more than a disguise, letting them move about unseen in full view. An order was created, refugees turned fighters. Saints turned assassins.
Some left. Some died.
In time, he was alone again. Hope, that had once begun to grow into a fire, now reduced to smoldering embers.
Until the day he found her.
A woman who seemed out of place in this dark world. A creature of unparalleled skill, unrivaled grace. If there was any hope for the people, it was in her. She was the order now. The only one left.
There was a cure for the disease. An end to the famine. Day and night, bodies were burned, ash fell from the sky like snow.
But sometimes, when the wind was right, when the moon was hidden, light shone through. In the high hills, men lived well and clean, bellies full and bodies free of disease. They had a cure, and still they forced his people to suffer.
The streets would run with their blood. Their sins would be washed away in fire.