Anarchistbanjo's World

Dawn bleeds over Eden, gold and violet streaking the wild—Oakenspire’s roots hum sharper, a low thrum underfoot. Tobal wakes rough, wild hair matted, scarred hands flexing—brown eyes burn with yesterday’s whisper: “Kin watches.” Fiona’s up, red braid coiled tight, green eyes slicing—staff leans close, vines twitching like they smell blood. The great hall’s quiet—Rafe’s not jesting yet, hazel eyes narrowed, dagger still in his grip. Becca paces, broad shoulders rolling—blue eyes flare under shaved skull, axe tapping thigh—yang simmers hot. Cal’s by the OAK roots, tall frame steady—spear rests, gray gaze locked on the hum—yin cuts deep. Valentine’s hackles spike, shaggy gray bristling—yellow eyes dart, growl rumbling—Chaos stinks closer.

OAK speaks—roots quake, voice jagged: “Kin’s blade—Oakenspire’s heart.” Tobal’s scars tighten—brown eyes flash: “Home’s hit.” Fiona’s grip whitens—green vines pulse: “Blood’s here.” Rafe spins his dagger—“Uncle’s got balls.” Becca snarls—“I’ll gut ‘em.” Cal shifts—spear lifts: “We guard.” Valentine bolts—gray streak—snout aimed inward—traitor thickens.

Storm stomps—midnight hooves claw—Tobal mounts, scars burning—brown eyes lock ahead. Fiona swings onto Blaze—red braid snaps, staff flares—green eyes pierce the spires. Becca spurs Blaze’s flank—axe thuds, yang roaring—blue eyes blaze wild. Rafe darts—wiry frame cuts stone—hazel glints: “Bet it’s family—always is.” Cal strides—tall shadow—spear steady—gray tracks the hall. Valentine races—shaggy fury—Chaos reeks inside—Oakenspire’s veins pulse—Fiona’s voice cracks: “It’s now.”

The hall splits—crystal veins shatter—traitor steps through—cloaked, scaled—reptilian claws grip a blade—OAK-forged, twisted—glares cold. Tobal’s whip cracks—scars flare—lunges—steel bites cloak. Fiona’s vines snap—green coils choke—weaves—staff hums raw. Rafe’s daggers flick—silver arcs—grins: “Knew it—family’s a bitch.” Becca’s axe roars—yang explodes—cleaves—blue eyes burn—blade meets blade. Cal’s spear thrusts—tall shield—holds—gray steady—Val’s teeth rip—tears—scales fly. Traitor laughs—cold, sharp—“Blood’s my key—Eden falls.” Rift flares—black seeps—gapes—OAK roots scream.

Fiona drops—green eyes lock—gasps—OAK hums: “Kin—ours.” Tobal freezes—brown eyes darken—growls: “Who?” Rafe’s grin twists—spits: “Uncle—hers or yours?” Becca’s hands choke—blue flares—roars: “Don’t care—end it!” Cal’s gray cuts—spear dips—says: “Roots know—fight.” Valentine lunges—yellow bites—rips—traitor staggers—rift shrinks—fades—OAK roots pulse—Oakenspire holds—cloak falls—face half-seen—kin’s blood—traitor flees—black coils back.

They stand—Storm snorts—Tobal’s scars bleed—growls—boots grind stone. Fiona grips Blaze—red braid loose—pants—staff dims—green eyes smolder. Rafe flips his dagger—laughs: “Family reunion—cute.” Becca’s yang cools—axe drips—spits—blue eyes narrow—Knights steady. Cal’s spear rests—tall shadow—nods—gray tracks—Valentine snarls—circles—shaggy guard—Oakenspire hums—heals—roots thread—OAK whispers: “Kin’s blade—still cuts.” Day 12 fades—sun climbs—traitor’s shadow runs—burrows—Eden trembles.