Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMDBAQFSC11X1XFDMEJ9ZT

A thin crescent moon hung low in the night sky, casting faint silver light over Richmond Park. Aurora Carter walked along the path, boots crunching on gravel. She'd been here countless times before, yet something felt different tonight. A chill breeze whispered through the trees, making shadows dance. Rory pulled her jacket tighter and quickened her pace. According to the map, she was close to the hidden grove Eva had told her about. A place untouched by time, where magic still lingered. Some said it held the key to unlocking the secrets of the fae realm. Rory wasn't sure what she believed, but the allure of mystery had been too strong to resist. She stepped off the path, into a thicket of dense underbrush. Brambles tangled around her ankles as she pushed deeper into the woods. The sounds of the city faded away, replaced by the hushed rustle of leaves and the distant howl of a fox. Then, through a gap in the ancient oak standing stones, Rory saw it – the glimmer of wildflower petals bathed in moonlight. The clearing was small, almost circular, dappled in darkness and light. At the center stood a solitary tree, its branches reaching towards the sky like desperate fingers. Rory hesitated at the threshold, an inexplicable sense of dread coiling in her stomach. The scar on her wrist began to throb. She took a shaky breath and stepped into the fae-grove. As soon as her foot crossed the boundary, the air changed. It grew thicker, heavier, pressing against her skin with an almost tangible weight. The pendant around her neck pulsed faintly with warmth. This was it, she realized with a start. This was the heartbeat of the grove. She walked cautiously towards the center, drawn inexorably closer to the tree. The ground beneath her feet seemed to hum with latent energy. Each step sent a ripple through the grass, disturbing the stillness of the night. Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her. Rory whirled around, heart pounding. But there was nothing there. Only shadows and the shifting branches of the oaks. She swallowed hard, trying to calm her racing thoughts. It was just her imagination playing tricks on her. She turned back to the tree, intending to examine it closer. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. A shapeless blur darting between the trees. Rory froze, senses on high alert. There it was again, a flicker of motion, gone before she could fully grasp it. A whisper of a breeze caressed her cheek, carrying with it the scent of decay. The wrongness of the grove began to seep into her bones, a slow-building certainty that she did not belong here. Whatever resided in this place was ancient and powerful, and it watched her with malevolent eyes. Another twig cracked, closer this time. Rory's heart leapt into her throat. She spun in a circle, frantically scanning the darkness for any sign of what lurked in the shadows. The trees seemed to close in around her, their branches twisting into grotesque shapes. Run, her mind screamed. But her body refused to obey, rooted to the spot by a terror she couldn't name. The night grew colder, the air thickening until each breath burned in her lungs. The pendant at her throat flared to life, bathing her in crimson light. And then she saw it – a figure emerging from the blackness between the trees. Tall and skeletal, with eyes that glowed like embers. It moved with unnatural grace, flowing towards her with the inevitability of a nightmare given form. Rory screamed, the sound tearing from her throat in a desperate plea. She stumbled backwards, away from the advancing horror, away from the tree and the pulsing grove. Her heel caught on a root and she fell, landing hard on the ground. The figure loomed over her, its face a mask of rotting flesh and exposed bone. It reached for her with spidery fingers, its touch like ice on her skin. Rory scrambled to her feet, bolting for the boundary of the clearing, for the safety of the standing stones. But the oaks seemed to have moved, the gap she'd entered through vanished as if it had never existed. Rory beat against the trunks, clawing at the rough bark, sobbing in terror. The creature's laughter echoed in her ears, a sound that sliced through her like a scalpel. She was trapped, she realized with dawning horror. Trapped in this nightmare realm with no escape, no hope of rescue. The creature had her now, its fingers closing around her wrist, the scar throbbing in agony. Then, with a suddenness that left her reeling, the tree began to glow. Silver light spilled from its branches, blasting through the grove with the force of a small sun. The creature shrieked, its form disintegrating into wisps of shadow. Rory collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath as the magic of the grove washed over her. The pendant cooled against her skin, its glow fading to a gentle pulse. Slowly, the night began to return to normal. The oaks stood silent once more, the wildflowers glimmering peacefully in the moonlight. Rory staggered to her feet, torn between relief and lingering fear. She had to get out of here, had to find the gap in the stones and escape back to the world of the living. She stumbled through the clearing, desperately searching for a way out. After what felt like hours, she found it. A sliver of moonlight piercing the darkness between two oaks. Rory plunged through, stumbling onto the path on the other side. The grove vanished behind her as if it had never been, leaving only the chill breeze and the distant cry of a fox. Aurora Carter ran. She ran until her lungs burned and her legs ached, ran until the lights of London rose up to greet her. Only then did she allow herself to stop, to collapse against a wall and shudder in relief. The nightmare of the fae grove was over. But the memory would linger, etched into her skin and her bones, a reminder of the horrors that lurked just beyond the edge of reality. She touched the pendant at her throat, a silent acknowledgment of the debt she owed to whatever power had saved her. Never again, she vowed. Never again would she seek out the unknown, the mysteries beyond the veil of the mundane world. Some secrets were better left undisturbed, buried in the darkness of a forgotten grove.