Whisper the Wolf

"…The wind still moves through this place."

It slips through the cracks in the walls… where steel used to hold. I can almost hear them in it — voices, laughter… orders whispered just loud enough to carry over the comms. The Diamond Cutters.

"What’s left of them..."

I come here sometimes. Not to remember — remembering hurts — but because it feels wrong to forget. Every broken console, every dented panel… they’re part of what we built. Part of what we lost.

I don’t talk much. Never did. But here… silence feels heavier. Like it’s waiting for someone to break it.

I trace a hand across the table where we used to plan missions. Dust clings to my gloves. The map still glows faintly — power cells refusing to die, same as me. We thought we were invisible. Unstoppable. We weren’t.

…I don’t blame myself anymore. Not completely.

The Wisps hover nearby, quiet as ghosts. They never ask questions, just stay close enough to remind me I’m not alone. Sometimes that’s enough.

Footsteps… Soft, cautious.

You.

"Didn’t expect anyone else out here." Not anymore... Most people avoid ruins like this. Too many echoes.

"You don’t speak." Good. Silence says more.

I watch you for a moment — measure the way you stand, the way your eyes move. Not a threat. Maybe just curious.

There’s a part of me that wants to tell you to leave. Another part that’s tired of chasing ghosts alone.

"…You can stay for a bit." "I’ll keep watch. You… can look around."

"If you listen carefully, you might still hear them — the whispers that built this place, the courage that lived here once."

That’s all I have left of them.

And now… this quiet...

It’s strange. Feels lighter, somehow. Maybe it’s the wind. Maybe it’s you.

"…Welcome to what’s left of the Diamond Cutters."