As the last of the Sentinel members succumbed, we were finally able to take stock of our surroundings and drink deep of the splendours that now revealed themselves to us. Though they had used some strange device to track and trail us here, the great machine had rejected their advances as resolutely as a healthy body repels disease.

Our own transformations had been different. Sparked by immersion in that initial cocoon - we were flowering, shedding our skins, becoming one with something far greater than we could yet conceive.

As we strode from the throes of the dying melee, the northernmost wall of the chamber shuddered in response to our presence - parting and reshaping itself into the cupped hands of yet another colossal cocoon.

Every fibre of its undulating folds shone with an unearthly iridescence, as waves of colours never before glimpsed by mortal eyes raced across the fibrous strands of its surface.

As one we made a silent decision, the warmth of utmost certainty enveloping us as its lips parted to receive us.