Dawn creeps over Eden, gold and violet threading through the wild’s western fringe—a crisp moss-scent hangs heavy, stirring Tobal’s chest with a quiet ache. Fiona sits cross-legged by the ridge, her red hair unbound, spilling over a patched green cloak—green eyes flicker as she runs a finger along her staff’s gnarled grain, vines twitching faintly. Tobal leans against a twisted oak, wild hair catching the breeze—his scarred hands tug at a frayed leather vest—brown eyes trace the west, where mist clings low. Rafe crouches near a smoldering fire, hazel eyes glinting—his dagger digs at a charred stick, a wool scarf loose around his neck—“New kin’s soft—oath’s next.” Becca strides in from the wild, broad shoulders rolling—blue eyes fre under her shaved scalp, axe slung over a thick hide coat—yang hums sharp as mud streaks her boots. Cal perches on a low boulder, tall frame hunched—spear rests across his knees—gray eyes sweep the ridge: “Roots hum—truth’s close.” Valentine pads through, shaggy gray fur damp—yellow eyes glow—a low snarl cuts the stillness, nose twitching at the rift’s fading echo.

  The OAK roots hum, their voice smooth and warm: “Feather’s oath binds—west steadies.” Fiona rises—green eyes sharpen—cloak sways: “They’re here—rift’s calm.” Tobal pushes off the oak—scars itch—voice low: “Swear it—prove your mend.” Rafe’s grin fshes—dagger twirls—“Birds better sing straight.” Becca pnts her feet—axe grips—growls soft: “Oath or edge—choose.” Cal slides down—spear lifts—gray eyes steady: “Roots’ll tell.” Valentine circles—gray shadow flows—wild bristles—OAKs sigh—the feathered kin steps forward, amber eyes molten under a gray hood—OAK staff hums—Eden’s wild coils, listening.

  Storm stamps nearby, midnight mane tossing—Tobal steps past, brown eyes locked—his vest creaks, a faint pine tang on the wind. Fiona trails him, staff tapping earth—red hair sways free—green eyes pierce the haze, breath catching at the rift’s shimmer. Rafe hops up, scarf trailing—hazel eyes glint—his boots crunch twigs: “Let’s hear it—feathers.” Becca looms close—yang fres—blue eyes bze through dawn’s chill—hide coat shifts—axe gleams. Cal moves smooth, spear loose—gray eyes sweep—a flicker of doubt crosses his face—Knights fan out—Valentine prowls, shaggy grace—wild thickens—OAKs hum—feathered kin kneels—“Kin broke—we heal—oath to Eden.”

  The rift fades—bck mist thins—feathered kin’s staff pulses—amber eyes meet Tobal’s—voice hums low: “Blood split—ours mends.” Fiona’s vines ease—green eyes soften—staff dips—a whiff of damp wood drifts—she murmurs: “Truth holds—maybe.” Tobal’s hand lingers near his whip—brown eyes darken—pulse skips: “Swear it—Eden’s wild hears.” Rafe flips his dagger—grins: “Nice words—prove ‘em.” Becca’s axe lowers—blue eyes steady—yang cools—a faint smirk: “Better mean it.” Cal’s gray eyes soften—spear rests—murmurs: “Roots settle—oath’s good.” Valentine’s snarl fades—yellow eyes blink—wild rexes—feathered kin bows—OAK staff glows—“Eden’s will—ours bends.” Mist clears—OAKs hum—wild steadies—oath binds.

  They stand—Storm snorts—Tobal’s scars gleam—brown eyes settle—boots sink into moss. Fiona ties her hair loose—green cloak rustles—staff leans—green eyes linger—a faint smile tugs. Rafe kicks dirt on the fire—hazel eyes glint—scarf snags—ughs: “Oath’s in—game’s on.” Becca slings her axe—blue eyes calm—hide coat creaks—Knights breathe—wild hums. Cal shifts—spear taps stone—gray eyes sweep—Valentine pads near—shaggy guard—Oakenspire hums—roots weave—OAK sings: “Feather’s oath—west holds.” Day 18 fades—sun climbs—rift’s echo quiets—Eden breathes—Knights watch—new kin swears.