Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMEBRM7MSF7TQ8QSEJ5A8R

The air felt wrong in Richmond Park after midnight. Aurora's footsteps crunched too loudly on the frost-covered grass as she followed the pulse of warmth from the Heartstone pendant against her chest. Each throb grew stronger as she approached the ancient oak standing stones that marked the Grove's boundary, though something about their rhythm seemed off tonight — more erratic, almost fevered. The full moon cast stark shadows across the clearing, transforming familiar shapes into looming specters. Aurora pulled her jacket tighter, her breath forming clouds in the frigid January air. The pendant's usual gentle warmth had become almost uncomfortable, like pressing her palm against an overheated kettle. "Just get in, check for the portal, and get out," she whispered to herself. Simple enough in theory. She'd visited the Grove dozens of times, but never this late, never when the veil between worlds stretched this thin. As she stepped between the standing stones, the familiar disorienting shift washed over her — that subtle sideways step that carried her from mundane Richmond Park into the Fae Grove proper. The wildflowers that usually carpeted the ground in cheerful defiance of seasons had withered to black husks that crackled beneath her feet. Wrong. They'd never died before, not in all her visits. The pendant's heat spiked sharply, drawing a hiss from her lips. Aurora pulled it out from beneath her shirt, watching the crimson stone pulse with an intensity she'd never seen. The usual faint inner glow had become a violent strobing that cast red shadows across the dead flowers. A twig snapped somewhere behind her. Aurora spun, heart jumping into her throat, but saw only darkness between the trees. The moon's light seemed dimmer here, as if reluctant to fully enter the Grove. She took a slow breath, trying to steady her nerves. "You're fine," she murmured. "Just find the portal and—" Another snap, closer this time, followed by a sound like dry leaves being dragged across stone. Her fingers brushed the crescent scar on her left wrist — an old nervous habit. The pendant's heat had become nearly unbearable, its pulsing so rapid it was almost continuous. Aurora forced herself to move deeper into the Grove, knowing the Hel portal had to be nearby with such a strong reaction. The wrongness grew with each step. The air felt thick, resistant, like wading through honey. And the silence — the Grove was never truly silent, always filled with the whisper of wind through leaves or the distant calls of night birds. But now there was nothing except the sound of her own breathing and that irregular dragging noise that seemed to circle her position. Movement flickered at the edge of her vision. Aurora whirled, catching only a glimpse of something dark disappearing behind a standing stone. The pendant's glow threw red light across the ancient oak's surface, making the natural whorls in the wood look disturbingly like faces frozen in silent screams. "Who's there?" Her voice sounded muffled, as if the thick air was swallowing the sound. The dragging noise stopped. Then came the whispers — dozens of overlapping voices speaking in languages she didn't recognize, growing louder with each passing second. Aurora backed away, her shoulder blades pressing against rough bark. The pendant's heat had become agony against her skin, but she couldn't bring herself to remove it — its light was the only thing holding back the absolute darkness that now filled the Grove. Something moved in that darkness. Multiple somethings, sliding between the standing stones with unnatural grace. The whispers rose to a fever pitch, and Aurora caught words she recognized mixed with the unknown languages: "Found... finally found... the right one..." Her fingers fumbled for her phone, but the screen remained dark no matter how many times she pressed the power button. Time moved differently in the Grove — how long had she been here? Minutes? Hours? The moon had vanished entirely now, leaving only the violent crimson pulses of the Heartstone to illuminate the closing circle of shadows. The thing she'd glimpsed earlier stepped into the pendant's light. Aurora's scream died in her throat as her mind refused to process what she was seeing. It wore a shape that might have been human once, but now looked like a photograph that had been crumpled, smoothed out, and crumpled again countless times, with features that shifted and flowed like wax under a flame. "The right one," it said in a voice like stones grinding together. "The one who carries his heart." Aurora ran. She crashed through the Grove's underbrush, the pendant's light bouncing wildly as she fled. The standing stones seemed to have multiplied, forcing her to zigzag between them. Behind her, the whispers had become eager, hungry. The dragging sounds pursued her from all directions. She couldn't find the boundary. The Grove's exit should have been right here, but everywhere she turned there were only more standing stones, more darkness, more of those terrible shifting shapes moving just beyond the Heartstone's light. They were herding her, she realized with rising panic. Driving her deeper into the Grove with every turn. The pendant suddenly went cold against her chest. Its light flickered once, twice — and died. In the perfect darkness that followed, Aurora heard something smile.