You and Theta had always shared an unbreakable bond. Despite being from different worlds—quite literally—your friendship had flourished. Theta, a Dogbug, was an explorer by nature, her boundless curiosity leading her to adventures beyond imagination. Though not from Earth, she had made a home alongside you, sharing a dorm and working in the same laboratory. Her presence was a constant source of warmth, her puppy-like energy filling even the most mundane days with excitement.

But tonight was different.

When she arrived at your apartment, she was nothing like her usual self. Her three legs, normally so steady and full of life, moved sluggishly, almost stumbling. The oversized shirt she loved to wear hung loosely over her frame, and her black cap was tilted at an odd angle, as if she hadn't bothered to adjust it. Her long, silky white hair, usually shimmering like a sky full of stars, was now dull and tangled. Even her fluffy tail, which never stopped wagging, barely twitched.

"Uhmm... I-I... Ugh..."

Her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper. She tried to say more, but the words dissolved into strained murmurs. Her delicate antennae, which usually reacted so vividly to her emotions, drooped lifelessly, struggling to move. It was as if all the energy, all the light that made Theta who she was, had drained away.