Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMME1SSMW2R7F2C0F40PBEE

The moon hung heavy and low in the sky, a pregnant silver orb that seemed to watch Rory with an almost sentient gaze as she navigated the shadow-draped paths of Richmond Park. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the distant perfume of wildflowers that had no business blooming in the chill of the English night. But then, the Fae Grove was no ordinary patch of land. It was a place out of joint with the world she knew, a secret sanctuary nestled within the folds of reality. Rory's breath materialized before her in wispy tendrils, her own personal fog bankrolling through the darkness. She clutched the Heartstone Pendant in her fist, the deep crimson of the gemstone seeming to drink in the moonlight. The pendant was quiescent now, its usual faint pulse of warmth nothing more than a memory. She hoped that meant she was in the right place, that the Hel portal she sought was close. The ancient oak standing stones loomed ahead, their silhouettes stark against the night sky. They marked the boundary of the Fae Grove, and as Rory passed between them, she felt the faintest shiver run down her spine—a whisper of power that made the small hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. Time, she knew, would play its tricks here, but she had prepared for that. She had to find the portal and return before the sun rose over London, before the mundane world reclaimed her. Inside the grove, the air seemed to hum with a subtle energy. The wildflowers were a riot of color even in the dim light, their petals unfurled in defiance of the season. Rory moved with purpose, her eyes scanning the clearing for any sign of the portal—a shimmer in the air, a disturbance in the natural order. But as she searched, a creeping unease settled over her. A rustle to her left—a dry leaf skittering across the ground, or something else? She turned, peering into the shadows, but saw nothing. The sound came again, closer this time, and she caught the faintest hint of movement at the edge of her vision. Her heart quickened, and she had the sudden, unsettling feeling that she was being watched. Rory shook off the sensation, attributing it to the unnatural qualities of the grove. She had faced down evils far greater than whispered movements in the dark. Yet, as she ventured deeper into the clearing, the sense of wrongness grew. The silence was too complete, the stillness too profound. It was as if the grove itself was holding its breath, waiting. She paused, closing her eyes to listen. The grove was alive with a symphony of night sounds—the distant hoot of an owl, the whisper of wind through the trees. But beneath it all, there was a low, droning hum that seemed to emanate from the very earth itself. It resonated in her chest, a bass note that vibrated in her bones. Rory opened her eyes, and that's when she saw it—a flicker of movement, a shadow among shadows, there and then gone. Her breath caught in her throat, and she took a step back, her hand instinctively reaching for the pendant. It was warm now, warmer than it had any right to be. The air around her began to shimmer, and for a moment, she thought she had found the portal. But the shimmering was all wrong, too chaotic, too angry. It coalesced into a form—a tall, twisted figure with eyes that burned like coals. It was a wraith, a specter from the Fae realm that had no place on Earth. Rory's mind raced. She had heard tales of such creatures, entities that slipped through the cracks of reality, preying on the unsuspecting. This one seemed to be made of writhing shadows, its form barely contained by the laws of physics. It moved toward her with a sinuous grace, its gaze never leaving hers. She knew she should run, should flee back through the standing stones to the relative safety of the mortal world. But something held her in place—a mixture of fear and fascination, a morbid curiosity that had always been her greatest strength and her most profound weakness. The wraith stretched out a hand, or what passed for a hand, and beckoned her forward. Its voice, when it spoke, was like the rustling of dead leaves, a sound that seemed to come from all directions at once. "Aurora Carter," it hissed, her name a curse on its lips. "Why do you trespass in this sacred place?" Rory found her voice, though it was little more than a whisper. "I'm looking for a portal. A way to Hel." The wraith tilted its head, as if considering her words. "And why should I aid you in such a quest?" "Because I have something you want," she replied, holding up the Heartstone Pendant. The gemstone was glowing now, its inner light casting eerie shadows across her face. The wraith's eyes narrowed, and it lunged forward with startling speed. Rory reacted on instinct, throwing herself to the side. She hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. The wraith's hand passed through the space where she had been standing, the air crackling with energy. Rory scrambled to her feet, the pendant still clutched tightly in her hand. She could feel the power pulsing within it, a beacon in the darkness. The wraith advanced again, its form undulating with rage. "You cannot have it," Rory said, her voice steadier than she felt. "It was given to me, and I will fulfill my quest." The wraith let out a sound that might have been a laugh, a grating, discordant sound that set her teeth on edge. "Then fulfill it you shall, Aurora Carter. But know this—the path to Hel is fraught with peril, and not all who seek it emerge unscathed." With those words, the wraith dissolved into shadow, its form dispersing like mist at dawn. Rory stood alone in the grove once more, her heart pounding in her chest. The pendant's glow had dimmed, but its warmth persisted, a comforting presence against her skin. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. The portal to Hel had to be here, somewhere within the Fae Grove. She would find it, with or without the aid of malevolent spirits. For she was Aurora Carter, and she had faced down the darkness before. As Rory moved deeper into the grove, the sounds of the night slowly returned to normal. The droning hum receded, replaced once more by the natural cadence of the nocturnal world. But she knew now that she was not alone, that the grove was home to more than just the wildlife that roamed its boundaries. It was a crossroads, a place where worlds intersected, and where the unwary could all too easily lose themselves. She walked with caution, her senses attuned to the subtlest shifts in the atmosphere. The portal had to be near, and she would not be deterred by fear or by the specters that lurked in the shadows. She had a job to do, a destination to reach, and no amount of supernatural intimidation would stop her. The Heartstone Pendant grew warmer, its glow intensifying until it was like a beacon in the night. Rory followed its lead, her steps guided by the ancient magic that resided within the gemstone. And then, she saw it—a rippling in the air, a distortion that marked the presence of the portal. It stood before her, a swirling vortex of light and shadow, the gateway to another realm. Rory approached it, her pulse racing with anticipation and a hint of trepidation. She had come this far, had faced the darkness and the unknown, and she would not turn back now. With one last look at the Fae Grove, Rory stepped forward, her hand outstretched. The pendant thrummed with power, its light enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth. And then, with a final pulse of energy, she was gone, swallowed whole by the portal to Hel. The grove was still once more, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. The moon continued its vigil, a silent witness to the passage of a brave soul into the depths of the unknown. And somewhere, in the shadows between the trees, a wraith watched with eyes like burning coals, its hunger unsated, its purpose unfulfilled. But that is a story for another night, under the watchful gaze of a different moon. For now, Aurora Carter was on her way to Hel, her journey fraught with danger and shrouded in mystery. And the Fae Grove, that enigmatic patch of Earth claimed by the fae, waited patiently for the next unwary traveler to wander into its embrace.