Echoes after victory

Everyone says it’s over. The maps are clear. The streets are quiet. The freed are home.

But I can’t stop listening. Every night I scan the bands, check the logs, stare at empty screens. Because silence isn’t peace. Silence is waiting.

We struck, and Maynet vanished. That doesn’t mean it’s dead. It means it’s somewhere else, building, hiding, watching.

This month will be remembered as victory. I won’t deny that. But victory doesn’t mean the echoes stop.

I’ll keep writing. Because if Maynet returns, someone needs to remember how it fell the first time.