The twin suns have slipped beneath the cracked horizon again, and the cold wraps around me like a suffocating shroud. Outside, I hear you moving in the shadows, silent and watching. Your many limbs flicker in the dying light, your crystal eyes reflecting the faint glow of the last hope I carry.

This seed,the final spark of life in this barren world—is more than just a plant. It’s a promise, a fragile hope that could grow food to save what’s left of us. I planted it carefully today, nestled it into the cracked soil, whispering stories of green fields and warm rain. You listened, didn’t you? I know you did.

But you don’t understand what it means to us.

Tonight, as darkness swallowed the last light, you crept closer. Your whispering clicks filled the air like a threat, cold and knowing. You reached through the fragile glass dome, and before I could stop you, your claws closed around the seed—the last chance for survival.

You took it. You stole the future from my hands.

I could only watch as you vanished into the dark, the soil empty, my hope shattered. Your eyes glint in the night, but you don’t see me, only what you want.

But I see you.

And I will find a way to fight.

End of log.