[Image: Twilight haze over a jagged rift, storm fading into soft rain, Tobal with scarred face, short dark hair, blue militia coat, medallion glowing faintly—Fiona in sky blue gown, loose chestnut hair, golden threads weaving gently—OAK Nexus rift hums with golden light—vivid, serene, with a darker sky and distant lightning]

  Tobal stood at the rift’s edge—twilight haze thick, the storm’s roar softening into a whisper of rain. His scarred face glistened, softened by the drizzle—blue coat heavy, clinging to his shoulders—medallion warm in his palm, its golden glow faint, pulsing like a heartbeat against the damp air. The jagged rift stretched before him, gold veins threading through black stone, humming low—a living breath in the dusk. Fiona knelt beside him—sky blue gown soaked, chestnut hair loose and dripping, strands curling against her cheeks—golden threads coiled in her hands, shimmering soft, weaving slow patterns in the mist. Rain tapped a gentle rhythm—distant thunder murmured—war’s echo faded, replaced by a stillness that weighed heavy and sweet.

  They’d fought—hours back—reptilian shadows clawing from the rift, scales glinting like wet shale, eyes red with hunger. Tobal’s fists had pounded—medallion flaring—golden light slicing through the storm—two fell, blood pooling in the mud. Fiona’s threads had snared—gold lashing out—third caught mid-leap—lightning cracked, fourth burned—rift trembling as ash sank into its depths. The last two snarled—Tobal roared—medallion surged—one buckled under his weight—Fiona’s threads bound tight—final beast burst apart—silence dropped—rain washed the sting away.

  Now twilight deepened—Fiona rose slow, gown trailing—her breath fogged in the cooling air—threads quivering as she traced the rift’s glow. “They’re endless,” she murmured—voice soft, chestnut hair catching faint gold—eyes sharp yet tired, searching the haze. Tobal shifted—medallion dimmed—scars ached under the damp coat, a dull throb like memory waking. Rain traced rivulets down his face—each drop cold, then warm—his chest tightened. “Not endless,” he said—gruff, low—gaze locked on the rift—gold veins pulsing slow—alive—something more than war flickering in their light.

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  A shadow lingered—beyond the rift—not lunging—taller, still—reptilian eyes glinted gold, not red—watching—waiting. Fiona’s threads tensed—gold shimmered—her fingers flexed, gown swaying—rain beaded on her lashes. “What’s that?” she whispered—voice catching—threads poised, not striking—curiosity threading through her fear. Tobal squinted—medallion warmed—scar pulsed—rain stung his eyes, then soothed. “Not trouble,” he said—slow, sure—hand loosening—rift’s hum softened—shadow held—watching—almost calm—storm’s last breath fading.

  Fiona stepped closer—threads probing—gold brushed the rift’s edge—shimmered warm—shadow didn’t flinch—didn’t retreat—stood firm. She exhaled—threads eased—gown rustled as she straightened—rain slid down her face—her eyes met his. “It’s waiting.” Tobal’s medallion steadied—scar softened—blue coat dripped—rain slowed. “For us,” he muttered—voice rough—eyes tracing the rift—gold veins glowed—warm—inviting—a pull he couldn’t name.

  Twilight thickened—rift’s hum rose—a whisper wove through—“Knights rise.” Fiona stilled—threads quivered—chestnut hair gleamed—eyes wide—breath held. Tobal’s grip tightened—medallion flared—gold light spilled—warm against his skin—soft in the dusk. “Who’s there?” he called—voice steady—rift pulsed—gold brightened—no answer—whisper faded—silence stretched—mystery curled like smoke.

  Fiona turned—gown heavy—threads dimming—her gaze locked with his—steady—searching—rain traced her jaw—her lips parted—then curved. “Something’s alive,” she said—voice firm—chestnut hair swaying—gold threads coiled loose—shimmering with quiet joy. Tobal nodded—scar ached—medallion warm—blue coat clung—rain stopped—haze hung thick. “We’re alive,” he said—gruff—soft.

  A faint wind stirred—rift’s glow pulsed—gold veins hummed—twilight deepened—soft rain kissed the air—Fiona’s threads rested—Tobal’s medallion steadied—haze settled—night crept in—OAK hummed low—warriors stood—scarred, soaked—spirit unbroken. Lightning flickered—distant—soft—a golden thread wove through—love lingered—war softened—go!