Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMDXFE8695TBF6QCY0HBGS

The uneven ground of Richmond Park caught at Rory's ankles as she trudged through the darkness. Her torch beam bobbed ahead of her, picking out tree trunks and undergrowth in a thin corridor of light. The rest of the world had contracted to varying shades of black, the clouds overhead smothering any hope of moonlight. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, checking her phone again. No signal, just as there hadn't been the last four times she'd checked. The screen's blue glow illuminated her face in the darkness, the time reading 11:42 PM. Late enough that the park was officially closed, late enough that she shouldn't be here at all. But the text had been clear: *Come to the standing stones tonight. Answers about your pendant. Come alone.* The Heartstone pendant hung heavy around her neck, a comforting weight beneath her jacket. Rory touched it through her clothing, feeling its warmth even through the fabric. She'd worn it every day since it had appeared in her mailbox three weeks ago, drawn to it in a way she couldn't explain. The deep crimson stone seemed to have its own pulse sometimes, especially in moments like this when she felt unsettled. Like now. The wind sighed through the trees, bringing with it the scent of earth and something else—something sweeter, like flowers in bloom, which made no sense in November. Rory paused, listening. The night sounds of the park surrounded her: the rustle of leaves, the distant call of a fox, the— She frowned. What was that? A high, thin sound just at the edge of hearing. Like glass being rubbed with a wet finger. She shook her head and pressed on, following the crude map she'd been sent alongside the text. The standing stones were supposed to be somewhere in this section of the park—a circle of ancient oaks that most visitors walked right past without noticing. Rory had lived in London for nearly a year now and had visited Richmond Park several times but had never seen them. Her torch beam caught something pale ahead—a flash of white among the trees. Rory quickened her pace, pushing through a screen of bushes, and then stopped abruptly. She had found the grove. The standing stones weren't stones at all, but massive, ancient oaks arranged in a perfect circle. Their pale trunks gleamed faintly in the darkness, as if they had absorbed moonlight during brighter nights and now released it slowly. The ground inside the circle was curiously flat and covered with small flowers that should have been impossible in the chill November air. Rory stepped forward hesitantly. As she crossed the threshold between the trees, the air seemed to thicken around her. The sounds of the park—the distant traffic, the night birds—muffled instantly, as if someone had closed a heavy door behind her. "Hello?" Her voice fell flat, absorbed by the silence of the grove. "Is anyone here?" Nothing but the gentle sway of the flowers at her feet, moving in a breeze she couldn't feel against her skin. Rory moved toward the center of the circle, turning slowly, taking in the strangeness of the place. Her torch beam seemed dimmer here, struggling to push back the shadows that pooled between the trees. The Heartstone against her chest pulsed once, hard enough that she gasped. She pulled it out from beneath her jacket, staring at it. The deep crimson stone gleamed with an inner light, warmer and more insistent than she'd ever felt it before. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Rory whirled around. There was no one there. "Hello?" she called again, voice sharper now. "Who's there?" Something moved at the corner of her vision—a flicker of darkness against darkness. Rory spun toward it, torch beam cutting through the night, but caught nothing but tree trunks and flowers. "I know someone's there," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You asked me to come, so here I am." The high, thin sound came again, closer now—not quite music, not quite laughter. Goosebumps rose along Rory's arms. "You've been wearing my gift," the voice said, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. "I'm pleased." "Your gift?" Rory clutched the pendant. "The Heartstone? You sent it to me?" A rustle of movement behind her. Rory turned, but again, there was nothing to see. The pendant pulsed against her palm, almost hot now. "Time moves differently here," the voice said, ignoring her question. "You should be careful about that. Minutes here can be hours there, or days. Easy to lose yourself." Rory's mouth went dry. She took a step back toward the circle of trees. "I think I should go." "But you've only just arrived," the voice said, closer now, just behind her right shoulder. "And we have so much to discuss, Aurora Carter." She jerked away, spinning to face the voice, but again found nothing but empty air. Her torch flickered, the beam dimming momentarily before strengthening again. "How do you know my name?" she demanded. "What is this place?" "Names have power," the voice replied, now from across the grove. "And this place? This is a threshold. Neither fully in your world nor fully in mine. One of the few places where we can... converse." "We?" Rory swept her torch in an arc, trying to catch sight of whoever—or whatever—was speaking. "Who are you?" "A friend," the voice said. "Or I could be, if you're wise." The flowers at Rory's feet rippled in another unfelt breeze, and she noticed for the first time that they were all facing inward now, toward her, their tiny blooms like watching eyes. She took another step back. "The pendant," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You said you had answers about it." "It's a key," the voice said simply. "A beacon. A tether." "To what?" "To us." The flowers trembled more violently now, and Rory noticed with creeping horror that the ripple was moving toward her, as if something invisible was walking across the grove. The pendant burned against her skin. "I don't understand," she said, backing away more rapidly now, nearly to the edge of the circle. "The stone comes from a place called Dymas," the voice said, now directly in front of her, though she could see nothing there. "A realm adjacent to yours, as is the Fae realm where we now stand partly between. The stone calls to things from... elsewhere. Things that wish to cross over." Rory felt something brush against her cheek—the ghost of a touch, cold and alien. "Things like me," the voice whispered, now directly in her ear. Rory bolted, turning and running for the edge of the grove. The circle of oak trees suddenly seemed much farther away than before, the distance stretching impossibly. Behind her, she heard that sound again—that high, thin almost-laughter. "Running won't help you, Aurora," the voice called, amused. "You've been carrying the key with you for weeks now. The door is already opening." She reached the edge of the circle and pushed through, expecting to feel the resistance break, expecting to emerge back into the normal night sounds of Richmond Park. Instead, she found herself standing in the center of the grove again, the circle of trees still distant around her. The pendant pulsed against her skin in time with her racing heart. Rory clutched it, ready to rip it from her neck, when a thought stopped her cold. If it was a key, what would happen if she discarded it here, in this place? Would whatever door it had opened simply remain open? "Clever girl," the voice said, approvingly. "You see the problem." "What do you want from me?" Rory demanded, spinning in place, trying to locate the source of the voice. "For now? Nothing but your company," the voice replied. "And perhaps, in time, your cooperation. The barriers between worlds are weakening, Aurora Carter. Change is coming, whether your kind is ready or not." The air in the grove seemed to thicken further, becoming soupy and hard to breathe. The flowers at Rory's feet began to glow faintly, casting eerie blue-white light upward, illuminating— Nothing. There was still nothing visible speaking to her, but the space directly before her seemed darker somehow, a void in the shape of a person. "I can help you navigate what's coming," the voice said gently. "I can protect you, as I've been trying to do since you fled from that boy who hurt you. Evan, wasn't it?" Rory froze. "How do you know about that?" "I know many things about you, Aurora. I've been watching for someone like you for a very long time. Someone brave enough to wear the stone. Someone clever enough to understand what it means." The pendant gave a final, violent pulse, and then went cold against her skin. In the same moment, the high, thin sound peaked and then cut off abruptly. The silence that followed was absolute. "Time to go," the voice said, suddenly urgent. "They're coming." "Who's coming?" Rory asked, but even as she spoke, she felt something change in the grove. The flowers closed, the light faded, and the air pressure shifted dramatically. Her ears popped. "Remain silent about what happened here," the voice commanded, now distant and fading. "Wear the stone. I'll find you again soon." The darkness in front of Rory seemed to fold in on itself and vanish. In the same instant, the normal sounds of the night rushed back—distant traffic, the call of an owl, the rustle of the wind through mundane trees. Her torch beam strengthened, casting ordinary shadows. Rory stood frozen for a long moment, waiting for something else to happen. When nothing did, she moved cautiously toward the edge of the grove, half-expecting to find herself trapped again. But this time she passed between the ancient oaks without resistance, emerging into the normal darkness of Richmond Park. She turned and looked back at the grove. It seemed smaller somehow, more ordinary—just a circle of old trees with nothing remarkable about them. Yet her heart still raced, and the Heartstone pendant hung cold and inert against her skin, as if exhausted. Rory pulled out her phone with shaking hands. The screen lit up, showing the time: 1:34 AM. Almost two hours had passed, though it had felt like minutes. *Time moves differently here.* She hurried away from the grove, the pendant bouncing against her chest with each step. Whatever had happened in there—whatever had spoken to her—had known things it shouldn't have known. Had been watching her. And worst of all, it had claimed to be just one of many things trying to cross over. *The door is already opening.* Rory broke into a run, desperate to put as much distance as possible between herself and the grove. But even as she fled through the darkened park, she couldn't escape the certainty that whatever had spoken to her was still watching, still following—and that the Heartstone pendant against her skin was somehow allowing it to do so.