Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMFBZ0QVX4638AFY7FBQBZ

The night air was cool and damp, the scent of wildflowers thick in Rory's nostrils as she made her way through Richmond Park. The ancient oaks loomed overhead, their branches twisted into gnarled arches that blotted out the stars. It was late, too late for a young woman to be wandering alone, but the pendant had brought her here, its faint crimson glow insistent. She couldn't say why exactly, only that the pull of the strange gem had grown irresistible in the last few hours. Now, standing at the edge of the clearing known as the Fae Grove, Rory hesitated. Something was off. Maybe it was the way the shadows seemed to writhe and dance, or the distant murmur of voices that rose and fell on the breeze. She shivered, her hand tightening around the pendant. The heartstone pulsed once, a soft throb of warmth, and then fell still. Rory took a deep breath and stepped into the grove. The moment her foot touched the soft grass, a wave of wrongness washed over her. It wasn't just the sense of being watched, though that was strong enough. No, it was deeper, as if reality itself had grown thin and tattered. She could feel the thrum of power beneath her feet, a bone-deep vibration that set her teeth on edge. The pendant grew warmer, its glow brightening to a fierce red. Rory staggered, her vision swimming. When it cleared, she found herself at the center of the grove, surrounded by the ancient standing stones. How long had she been standing here? Moments? Hours? The stones seemed to lean in, their gnarled faces twisted into leering grins. Rory's heart raced, her breath coming in short gasps. She was not alone. That much was clear. Even without the weight of eyes on her back, the sense of being watched, studied, she would have known. There was a presence here, something old and wild, something that belonged to the shadows and the deep earth. Rory's hand shook as she lifted the pendant, the heartstone flaring to life once more. A soft rustle of leaves, the snap of a twig, and she whirled, her heart in her throat. Nothing. Just the dark and the trees. But the feeling remained, that certainty that she was not alone, that she was being hunted. The wrongness grew, a pressure building at the base of her skull, a taste like copper on her tongue. Rory's mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible. The grove was changing, the air shimmering like water. She could see something moving through the trees, a shadow within shadows, a shape that defied the eye. Rory's breath caught, her body going cold. The pendant was scorching hot now, its light spilling across the grass. She couldn't look away, couldn't move, even as the darkness bled into the grove, blotting out the stars. There was a sound, like a thousand voices whispering, and then a crash of thunder that shook the earth. Rory screamed, the pendant searing her skin, and then the night exploded into day. Light flooded the grove, so bright it seared her eyes. Rory fell to her knees, her hands pressed to her face. When she looked up again, the grove was empty, the trees still and silent. The pendant lay cool and dark against her chest, its power spent. Rory didn't know how long she stayed there, trembling in the aftermath. The night was quiet now, the only sound the rustle of leaves and the distant cry of an owl. Slowly, painfully, Rory climbed to her feet. Her heart still raced, her skin prickling with the ghost of that terrible presence. She didn't understand what had happened here, only that she had to leave, had to get as far away from the Fae Grove as she could. With shaking hands, Rory touched the pendant one last time. It was just a piece of stone now, battered and worn. Whatever magic it had held was gone. Rory turned and stumbled toward the edge of the grove, her legs weak, her chest tight. The night swallowed her up, and she was gone.