Sand.

Steel giants stride across a blood-red sea, their limbs like iron claws tearing at the flesh of the world. They devour the sand, its riches flowing through their veins like stolen blood. Each grain a memory, a whisper of a vibrant past now sacrificed to the insatiable hunger of the machines. They are titans of thought, their minds cold and calculating, their logic devoid of compassion. The sun bleeds across the horizon, a mournful eye witnessing the slow death of the land. The air weeps with the dust of forgotten life, a lament for a world consumed. The machines hum their victory song, a dirge for the fallen, a haunting melody of greed and desolation.