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Guaranteed Human.

Previously on the chosen people.

The Philistine scrambled for the exits, but the temple was too crowded, the doors too narrow.

Panic consumed them as the roof caved in, crushing the nobles beneath its weight.

Grant me strength!

Lord Mous High!

Let me die with the Philistines!

Yet Samson's legacy was a somber one. a reminder of strength squandered, pride indulged, and the cost of redemption.

He had died a miserable man, his life a mirror of his people, wayward, broken, yet held in the merciful hands of God.

You have done this to yourselves.

I gave you the land.

I made you a people.

But you made covenants with my enemies.

You lay with them.

Now there shall be thorns in your side.

The judges of Israel grew darker and more twisted with each passing generation. Heroes became villains and villains left Israel bound in sin.

Yet the God of Israel would not leave his people forever.

The wind carried the dying breath of autumn.

Its touch both sharp and listless as it swept across the hills of Ephraim.

The green fields that once shimmered like emeralds had gone brown, and the wild flowers had folded themselves into the earth, awaiting the rains of spring. There was a haze over the land, a lifeless pall that clung to the horizon like an old grief. It mirrored the hollow hearts of Israel's people, a nation

dried up and adrift without its god. There were no more heroes, there were no more foes.

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