Born from the final sigh of a dying world, I am the quiet anchor where the typhoon swirled. A living antenna, transmitting the foe, Guilt was the only language I was meant to know. I bound my own roots to the heart of the beast, To ensure that the dark of the cosmos had ceased. A brilliant mechanic was forced to agree, To shatter the armor, the cage, and me. Now I am nothing but tomorrow’s green ghost, Guarded in glass by the one who wept most.
1: you can't move the squares guess who it is
