Anarchist Time Knights-Day 2: Echoes of the Forge
[Image: Under a stormy sky, Becca with long red hair, black robe, glowing softly, kneels in a rocky canyon — Carla in a future tunic, 5D glow, dark hair, weaves golden threads — Rafe in a red medic cloak, rugged build, stands guard — OAK Nexus rift hums, rogue shadows lurk — vivid, gritty]
Becca knelt in the canyon, red hair whipping under a stormy sky. Her black robe clung damp against her skin, glowing faintly from the spark she’d fought to reclaim — scars from a brutal attack still raw, but healing. Rain streaked her face as she pressed her hands to the earth — energy pulsed below, wild and warm. Carla crouched beside her — her tunic shimmered with a strange light, dark hair plastered wet — golden threads spun from her fingers, bending time’s flow. “Feel it,” Carla said, voice cutting through the thunder. Rafe stood guard — red medic cloak flapping, rugged frame braced — eyes scanning for trouble. Shadows moved in the distance — rogues closing in.
Lightning cracked — Becca’s glow flared — memories surged, pain twisting into strength. She’d been broken at the lake, but not finished — light burned inside her now. Carla’s threads snapped tight — stitching a rift open, golden and jagged. “They’re coming,” Rafe growled, fists clenched — rogues in black tunics stalking closer, no bracelets marking them, just General Grant’s men. Becca stood — spark steady, pulling energy up from the ground. “Not this time,” she whispered — resolve steeling her bones.
Rafe charged — red cloak a blur, slamming a rogue into rock — a loud crunch echoed. Carla wove faster — threads lashing, snaring another — the rift hummed loud. Becca thrust her hands forward — light blasted out, a rogue staggering blind. Three against five — the odds were tight — but power flowed through them. Becca’s spark pulled harder — time bending — rogues faltering — her fight now.
A rogue swung a club high — Rafe ducked — countered with a fist — blood sprayed. Carla’s threads tripped another — the rift swallowed its scream. Becca glowed brighter — light forging a shield — rogue blows bouncing off. “Back!” she yelled — energy spiking — rogues reeling. Thunder rolled — the rift pulsed — they weren’t breaking her again.
Rain eased — the storm faded. Becca’s shield held — rogues scattering — the rift shrinking. Carla sank back — threads dimming — “We held.” Rafe wiped blood — “Barely.” Becca stood tall — spark blazing. The energy settled — rogues gone — she’d forged something new inside herself — stronger now.
Lightning flashed one last time — the canyon went quiet. Becca touched her robe — glow steady — “For us,” she said. Carla nodded — Rafe grunted. The ground hummed beneath them — energy steadying. They’d fight on — but today, they stood together — forged anew under the stormy sky.
