Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMC98A86AA2JQT05Z0B6T4

Dusk settled over Richmond Park as Rory's trainers carried her deeper into the verdant expanse. The guilt of leaving work early needled at her, but the text from her anonymous benefactor left no room for delay: "Return to the grove. The Heartstone will guide you. Come alone." The pendant, warm against her collarbone, pulsed gently—beckoning her forward like a compass needle quivering towards true north. Rory hoped its magic would be enough. Ancient oaks guided her to the Fae-touched glen, their gnarled branches grasping at the twilight. Wildflowers dotted the forest floor, vivid hues muted in the falling light. A shiver clawed its way down Rory's spine as she crossed the boundary of standing stones that marked the grove's threshold. Inside, the air hung thick and still, as if time itself feared to tread here. Rory's breath caught. The grove had changed—or perhaps it had always been this way, and she had been too dazzled by wonder to notice. Moss-covered stones jutted from the earth like rotting teeth. Thorns bristled from vines that snaked along the ground. The air tasted of secrets and decay. Rory pressed on. She had to know why she'd been summoned back. Why her. The pendant led her to the heart of the grove, where a solitary standing stone loomed—a megalith that bore a single carved word: "Isolde." Beneath it, the earth had been disturbed, black soil turned to devour the light. Rory's hand went to the Heartstone, its thrumming pulse a reminder of the power it held. The power she held. But before she could probe the stone's purpose here, a sound sliced through the silence. A whisper, carried on a breath of wind that shouldn't exist. A whisper that spoke her name. "Who's there?" The words barely crossed her lips before the wind whipped them away, the grove hungry for her voice. Silence. Rory's heart hammered against her ribs, the only sound in the oppressive stillness. Slowly, she turned, scanning the deepening shadows for any sign of movement. But the grove remained empty, save for the stones and the secrets they kept. Another whisper, closer now. More insistent. It called to her, a siren song beckoning her deeper into the dark. Rory's instincts screamed at her to run, to flee this twisted place and never look back. But the pendant's warmth and her own need for answers rooted her in place. She had to know. She had to see. The whispers led her to the far edge of the grove, where the shadows pooled like ink and the air shimmered like heat rising from summer pavement. There, hidden in the gloom, stood a figure shrouded in midnight. Rory's breath caught. The figure—tall, slender, and undeniably male—was draped in an inky cloak. A deep cowl hid his features, revealing only the barest gleam of eyes that seemed to pierce her soul. "Who are you?" Her voice shook, but she stood her ground, the pendant a talisman against the dark. The figure inclined his head, a gesture both courtly and condescending. "I am the one who summoned you, Aurora Carter." His voice slithered through her mind, casting ripples across her thoughts. Rory's skin crawled at the invasion, the intimate caress of a stranger's power. "Why?" The question was little more than a breath, a plea for understanding. "You bear the Heartstone. You alone can wield it." The pendant pulsed against her skin, a silent confirmation of his words. But Rory shook her head, denial rising like bile in her throat. "I don't want this. Any of this." The figure laughed, a sound like dead leaves skittering across stone. "Want is irrelevant. The stone chose you. You cannot escape your destiny." Rory's blood ran cold, the last vestiges of warmth leeching away in the face of his words. Destiny. The word hung between them, a noose waiting to tighten. "I don't believe in destiny," she whispered, her voice a challenge to the dark. The figure's eyes glittered, sharp and cold as shards of ice. "Then believe in this: the veil between worlds thins. What was once held back now seeks to break free." His words conjured images of darkness, of horror and despair. Of ravening beasts with bottomless hunger and malevolent will. Rory's mind recoiled, desperate to escape the visions he painted. But the pendant's warmth blazed against her skin, a brand of truth she couldn't deny. The stone had chosen her. For better or worse, this was her burden to bear. "What must I do?" The question slipped from her lips before she could call it back, a surrender to the inevitable. The figure's smile was a slash of darkness, a promise of pain. "Survive."