The towers of that city speared the bruised sky, a concrete labyrinth illuminated so fiercely that even the deepest night surrendered to a synthetic, ceaseless day. Within its core dwelled a teeming population of humankind, drawing life from the urban engine and, in turn, serving as its tireless fuel. Yet, the builders rarely paused to consider the cost: with every spire they raised, every elevated artery they poured, every lamp they decreed must never sleep, how much of the wild earth was choked beneath, how many ancient habitats vanished, leaving creatures to lift their heads and find only glare where the familiar tapestry of stars once hung. Humanity, perhaps, would never mourn what the displaced would become. Still, life possesses a fierce, unyielding tenacity. Driven by survival, these remnants were compelled to adapt—to the noise, to the shadow, to the very presence of man and the steel behemoth he had wrought. Whether driven by necessity or malice, they now nested within the city's seams.