Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMQSDXC4T9Z0G93EX9XAHQ

The air in Richmond Park was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, the kind of quiet that pressed against Rory’s ears like a held breath. She adjusted the strap of her messenger bag, the Heartstone Pendant tucked safely beneath her shirt, its warmth a steady pulse against her sternum. The standing stones loomed ahead, ancient oaks twisted into shapes that seemed to defy the natural order, their gnarled roots clawing at the ground. The boundary of the Fae Grove. She shouldn’t be here. Not at this hour, not alone. But the pendant had led her here, its crimson glow flickering like a dying ember in the dark, and she couldn’t ignore it. Not after what happened last night. Not after the dreams. The first wrongness was the silence. No rustle of leaves, no distant call of night birds—just the oppressive hush of a place holding its breath. Rory stepped between the stones, her boots sinking slightly into the mossy ground. The moment she crossed the threshold, the world seemed to tilt, the air humming with a low, almost imperceptible vibration. The trees ahead were taller than they should have been, their branches weaving together like skeletal fingers against the bruised sky. The Grove was supposed to be beautiful. Wildflowers blooming year-round, soft golden light filtering through the canopy. But tonight, the petals were wilted, their edges blackened as if scorched. The air smelled of copper and something older, something that made her stomach clench. Rory exhaled sharply, forcing herself to keep moving. The pendant’s warmth had intensified, its glow seeping through the fabric of her shirt. She didn’t dare take it out. Not yet. A sound cut through the silence—a whisper, so faint she almost missed it. A voice? No, not a voice. A sigh. The wind, maybe. But the trees weren’t moving. She froze. Something shifted at the edge of her vision. A shadow, darker than the rest, detaching itself from the trunk of an oak. Rory turned her head slowly, her pulse hammering in her throat. Nothing. Just the trees, their branches swaying in a breeze that didn’t exist. “You’re imagining things,” she muttered, but her voice sounded too loud, too brittle. The pendant burned hotter. Another sound—this time, unmistakable. A footstep. Not hers. Rory spun around, her breath coming fast. The clearing was empty. But the footsteps didn’t stop. They circled her, slow, deliberate, like something testing the boundaries of her awareness. She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists. “Who’s there?” Her voice was steadier than she felt. Silence. Then, from behind her, a whisper: *“Aurora.”* Her name, spoken in a voice that wasn’t quite human. Too smooth, too knowing. Rory’s skin prickled. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t have to. The presence was right behind her now, close enough that she could feel the cold seeping from it, like standing too near an open freezer. The pendant flared, its crimson light spilling through her fingers as she finally yanked it free. The gemstone pulsed, casting jagged shadows across the ground. The thing behind her hissed, the sound like steam escaping a kettle. Rory didn’t wait. She ran. The Grove twisted around her, paths shifting like living things. The trees seemed to lean in, their branches reaching, their roots snagging at her boots. She dodged, her breath ragged, her heart a drumbeat in her ears. The pendant’s glow flickered, dimming. Ahead, the standing stones. The boundary. If she could just reach them— Something grabbed her ankle. Rory crashed to the ground, her palms scraping against the damp earth. She kicked out, her boot connecting with something solid. A grunt, low and guttural. She scrambled up, her vision swimming, and lunged for the stones. The moment her fingers brushed the rough bark, the world snapped back into place. The oppressive weight lifted. The air was just air again, cold and clean. Rory stumbled forward, her legs shaking, and collapsed onto the grass outside the Grove. She didn’t look back. The pendant was cold now, its glow extinguished. But as Rory pressed her fingers to the crescent scar on her wrist, she knew one thing for certain. She wasn’t imagining things. And whatever was in there knew her name.