Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMN2DBAV9ZCS95TJEPGNAKQ

The air in Richmond Park was thick with the scent of damp earth and something older, something that clung to the trees like a whisper. Aurora Carter stepped from the bus, her boots crunching on gravel that had been smoothed by the weight of unseen feet. The Fae Grove loomed ahead—a pocket of the world where time bent, where the wildflowers bloomed without season, where the standing stones stood as silent sentinels. She had come here for the Heartstone. She had to. Her fingers tightened around the silver chain of the pendant, its deep crimson gemstone warm against her skin. The pulse of its glow had been faint when she left London, but now, as she walked toward the grove’s edge, the light dimmed, flickered, then flared brighter. A Hel portal. She’d known it would be here. The maps had shown it, the whispers in her dreams. But the maps didn’t lie. And yet. The first sound came before she saw it. A rustle. Not of leaves. Not of wind. Something moved in the shadows where the trees parted, just beyond the reach of her torch. She exhaled slowly, fingers still wrapped around the pendant, though she didn’t need it to see the way the light caught the edges of her vision—like something was watching her from the dark. Aurora adjusted her grip on the torch, the beam cutting through the gloom. The standing stones loomed, their carvings worn smooth by centuries of hands. She had read the legends. They marked the boundary. The place where the veil between worlds thinned. Where the Fae walked. Where the dead lingered. A breath. She hadn’t heard it. The torch flickered. The pendant’s glow pulsed again, brighter this time, as if in response to something unseen. Aurora’s pulse quickened. She turned slowly, scanning the grove’s edge, but the trees swallowed the darkness. No movement. No sound. Just the whisper of the wind, and the distant, rhythmic *tap-tap-tap* of something brushing against the bark. She stepped forward. The air grew colder. The scent of damp earth turned sour, like old blood. The standing stones seemed to lean in, their faces watching her. Aurora’s breath fogged the torchlight, but the glow didn’t dim. It *changed*. The crimson gemstone inside the pendant shifted, deepening to a dark, unnatural red, as if the light inside it was bleeding into the world around her. A sound. Not from the trees. From *inside* her. Her ribs ached. A pressure, like something was pressing against her chest from the inside. She swallowed hard, forcing her mind to stay sharp. The pendant’s glow flared again, and this time, the light didn’t just pulse—it *shimmered*, like liquid fire. Aurora’s vision blurred for a second, and when it cleared, the grove was different. The trees stood taller. The flowers—wildflowers, she’d read—were *wrong*. Their petals stretched too wide, their colors too vivid, too *alive*. And then she saw it. A shape. Not moving. Not *there*. But *between* her and the trees. A figure, half-hidden in the gloom, its form shifting, like smoke given shape. A woman. Or what looked like one. Tall, too tall, her limbs too long, her skin stretched too thin over her bones. Her face was a mask of something *else*, something that didn’t quite fit. Aurora’s stomach twisted. The pendant’s glow flickered violently, and the woman’s form *moved*, just for a second, before vanishing. Aurora’s breath came in ragged gasps. The pressure in her chest didn’t ease. She turned back toward the standing stones, her torch beam cutting through the dark. The pendant’s light was steady now, but the air felt heavier. The trees seemed to lean in, their branches brushing against her shoulders as if trying to *pull* her closer. A sound. Not a sound. A *voice*. Low. Deep. Like the rumble of distant thunder, but wrong. Wrong in a way that made her skin crawl. Aurora’s fingers tightened around the pendant. The gemstone burned against her skin, hotter than before. She raised the torch higher, but the light didn’t reach far enough. The voice came again, closer this time, and the trees *twisted*, their branches twisting around her legs, their roots digging into the gravel beneath her feet. She stumbled. The pendant’s glow flared once more, and the world *shifted*. The grove wasn’t just wrong—it was *wrong in a way that didn’t make sense*. The standing stones loomed taller, their carvings clearer, their faces watching her with eyes that weren’t quite human. The air hummed, like the world itself was breathing. Aurora’s vision blurred. The torch flickered, and for a second, she saw something else—something that wasn’t there before. A reflection. Not in the water of a pond, not in a mirror. In the *darkness* itself. A woman. Aurora’s breath hitched. The pendant’s glow dimmed, then flared again, and the woman in the dark *moved*, her form shifting, her face twisting into something that wasn’t quite human. Aurora’s hands shook as she reached for the pendant, but her fingers slipped. The torch went out. The darkness swallowed her. And then— A sound. Not a sound. A *laugh*. Deep. Wet. Too many voices in one sound. Aurora’s vision blurred again, and when it cleared, she was standing in the grove, but the grove wasn’t the same. The trees were taller. The flowers were *wrong*. And the standing stones— They were watching her. Aurora’s pulse roared in her ears. The pendant was cold against her skin now, its glow extinguished. She reached for it, but her fingers passed through the chain. The air was thick with something she couldn’t name, something that clung to her like a second skin. She turned slowly, her torch still out, and saw it. The woman. Or what was left of her. A shape, half-hidden in the dark, her limbs too long, her face stretched too thin. She didn’t move. She didn’t *look* at her. But Aurora knew. She knew what was happening. The pendant was gone. And the grove was *hungry*.