twd: the last silence

Chapter 95 – "The Sound Beyond the Wind"

The days had grown quieter—almost too quiet.

A cold wind rolled through Alexandria, carrying with it a scent that made even the wildlife go silent. The trees barely moved, the birds didn't sing, and the world beyond the walls had the tension of a storm not yet broken.

It began subtly.

A walker at the southern gate. Then two.

Then ten—slow, steady, silent.

Daryl and Rosita took care of them with ease, but something felt off.

"They didn't growl," Rosita muttered, wiping blood from her blade. "They just walked… like they were being guided."

That night, Axel sat outside as always, smoking beneath the moon. Judith had braided a loose silver strand of his hair earlier. He hadn't removed it.

Daryl leaned on the porch railing beside him, no words as usual. Just smoke shared in silence.

Then they both heard it.

A soft sound, like breathing—but not from them.

Axel stood, head tilted. That smile still on his lips, but now... sharper.

"You hear that, cowboy?" he asked Daryl.

Daryl didn't answer. He was already moving.

The next day, they found it: a skin mask nailed to a tree.

Human.

Dried, stitched, stretched.

Below it, a word carved into the wood with a knife: "ALIVE."

Rick called an emergency meeting. Everyone—Michonne, Maggie, Gabriel, Rosita,—

Everyone listened in as Daryl explained.

"They're called the Whisperers," he said, voice low. "They wear the skin of the dead. Move with them. Use herds like weapons."

"Who's 'her'?" Rick asked.

Daryl's eyes darkened.

"Alpha."

A pause.

Axel smiled faintly, eyes bright with something feral. "Well, damn. We've got a queen of the dead knocking on our door."

"This isn't funny," Rosita snapped. "These people slaughtered entire camps. Max old group—gone. Wiped out overnight. They don't just kill. They erase."

Rick looked toward the gate. "We double the watch. Reinforce the southern wall. And no one leaves without backup."

Maggie glanced at Axel. His expression hadn't changed. Still smiling. Still calm. But his hand was resting lightly on the handle of his katana.

"Do you know them?" she asked, quietly.

Axel didn't look at her.

"No," he said simply. "But I know people like them."

He flicked his cigarette aside and walked off with a hum in his throat.

"And I really, really want to meet Alpha."

---

The tracks were faint.

Not walkers—no. These were deliberate. Careful. Footprints that weaved in and out of dry soil and broken grass, layered atop each other to confuse the eye. But they weren't fooling Axel.

He crouched beside a bent twig, silver hair falling around his face like smoke. A slow grin tugged at his lips.

"Cute little tricks," he muttered, tracing a fingerprint left on bark. "They're smart. Not smart enough."

Behind him, boots crunched against the earth.

He didn't need to turn.

"Maggie girl, I thought I told you I was going alone."

"And I told you I'm not letting you walk into an ambush without backup," she replied, stepping beside him.

Axel exhaled slowly, amused. "Ohhh Maggie girl, keep that up and I might start thinking you love me."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "In your dreams."

"Every night," he shot back, standing up and dusting his hands. "But in those dreams, you're less angry and I'm slightly more shirtless."

She ignored him, scanning the trees. "You see anything?"

He nodded, his face returning to focus. Joking aside, Axel moved with purpose now—every step placed with silent intent. Maggie followed, watching how his body seemed to shift into the forest, like he belonged more to the wild than the world behind the walls.

They tracked deep into the woods. Signs of skin-wearers were subtle: fibers, bones laid in patterns, a smear of blood shaped like a spiral.

Then a whisper.

Not words.

Just breath.

Both froze.

Axel reached slowly for his katana. His voice was a whisper of thunder.

"You hear that?"

Maggie nodded, hand on her knife.

"We're being watched."

---

Deep in the woods, somewhere unseen…

She watched too.

Alpha sat beneath a canopy of rot and silence, her face bare, save for the stitched flesh of the dead she wore like a veil of power. Beside her, a scout returned, dropping to his knees.

"Speak," Alpha commanded.

The scout trembled. "He's tracking us. The one called Axel."

Alpha's pale eyes narrowed. "Axel…"

She had heard of him.

The whisperers' eyes stretched far—across ruins, fires, and camps that no longer existed. Tales had come like wind through a broken door.

"He is young," the scout continued. "But brutal. He killed the Governor when no one else could. Built a village of survivors just to use them as tools in his war."

"Revenge," Alpha said flatly.

"He tortured Alice for three days, then burned her hive to ash."

"Alice deserved worse."

Alpha turned her gaze toward the sky where a raven circled. "He joined the man called Negan… rebuilt the Sanctuary stronger than it had ever been."

The scout nodded. "And now, he's in Alexandria."

There was silence.

Then a smirk curled beneath the flesh mask.

"Good," Alpha whispered. "I want to meet him."

Beta stepped forward from the shadows, towering and silent.

"He is dangerous," Beta warned.

"So was I," Alpha replied. "Before I became death itself."

She stood slowly, blade in hand, breath even and calm.

"Let him come. Let him see. He will learn the old ways or he will become one of us… beneath the skin."

And far beyond, in the trees, Axel raised his head.

He felt it.

Someone was watching.

"You feel that, Maggie?" he asked softly, katana glinting in the dusky light.

"Yeah," she breathed. "It's starting."

Axel's smile was quiet.

"Good. I was getting bored."

---

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