Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMN2R0V4JDS948AWHEHB0D8

The air in Richmond Park was thick with the scent of damp earth and something older, something like crushed petals and iron, before Aurora Carter even set foot inside the grove. She had come here for the Heartstone, the small crimson gem she’d been given in a dream last night, its warmth pulsing faintly against her skin when she’d pressed it to her chest. But the moment the standing stones loomed ahead, their bark blackened as if scorched, the air itself seemed to shift. She slowed, her boots sinking into the soft, uneven ground. The trees here were taller than any she’d seen before, their branches twisting in ways that made the shadows stretch too long, too deep. The world outside the grove—London’s neon glow, the distant hum of traffic—felt distant, like a dream she’d woken from too soon. But this place was different. The trees here breathed. Aurora adjusted the silver chain of the Heartstone around her neck, its deep crimson glow faint but steady. The moment she touched it, the world seemed to hold its breath. The wind carried something—whispers, not words, but the sound of voices, low and distant, as if from a place just beyond hearing. She turned her head slowly, scanning the trees, but there was nothing. No movement. No breath. Then she heard it. A rustle. Not from the leaves. From the earth itself. Aurora froze. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her fingers tightening around the pendant’s chain. The standing stones loomed closer, their ancient carvings etched with symbols she didn’t recognize, but the symbols didn’t matter. What mattered was the way the air seemed to thicken, the way the light from the moon, which should have been bright enough to illuminate the grove, now flickered like a dying candle. She stepped forward, her boots crunching over something brittle beneath the moss. The rustle came again—closer this time. A twig snapping. A small, wet sound, like something shifting in the dark. Aurora’s pulse hammered in her throat. She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to move with deliberate slowness. The Heartstone pulsed against her skin, warm and insistent. She had come here for a reason. She had to find it. The trees parted. Not smoothly. Not like a door opening. Like something had been waiting there all along, and now it was stepping out. Aurora’s breath hitched. The light from the moon caught the edge of a figure standing just beyond the clearing—a shape, tall and gaunt, wrapped in tattered robes that moved as if made of living shadows. It didn’t turn toward her. It didn’t speak. But it watched. Aurora’s fingers dug into the pendant’s chain, her knuckles white. The air around it seemed to hum, the crimson glow deepening, pulsing like a heartbeat. She had to move. She had to find out what this place was, why it felt like it was watching her. She took a step forward. The ground beneath her feet trembled. Not from the wind. Not from the trees. From something deeper, something that made the earth itself seem to shift beneath her. Aurora’s heart pounded. The figure in the robes didn’t move. Didn’t react. But the air around it—it seemed to ripple, like water disturbed by an unseen hand. Then, from the darkness beyond the clearing, something else moved. Not a person. Not a thing she could name. A shape, shifting, too fast to see clearly. It came from the trees, from the shadows, and it was following her. Aurora’s breath came in ragged gasps. The Heartstone burned against her skin, its warmth a flicker of hope in the suffocating dark. She had to get out. She had to find the way back. But the trees didn’t seem to want her to leave. The standing stones loomed closer, their ancient carvings glowing faintly now, as if drawn to the pendant’s light. The figure in the robes didn’t step forward. It didn’t speak. But it didn’t move away either. Aurora took another step. The ground beneath her feet gave way. Not with a sound. Not with a crunch. With a whisper, like something ancient and hungry pulling itself free. She stumbled, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The Heartstone pulsed against her skin, warm and insistent. She had to keep moving. She had to find the way out. But the trees were closing in. The figure in the robes stepped forward, its robes whispering against the damp earth. It didn’t speak. It didn’t scream. But it didn’t leave her alone. Aurora’s fingers tightened around the pendant, her knuckles turning white. The air around it seemed to hum, the crimson glow deepening, pulsing like a heartbeat. She had to find the way back. But the way back wasn’t there anymore. The ground beneath her feet trembled again, deeper this time, as if something vast and ancient was rising from the earth itself. The trees parted, revealing a darkness that wasn’t night. Not quite night. Something older. Something that made the light from the moon seem like a child’s candle. Aurora’s breath came in ragged gasps. The Heartstone burned against her skin, its warmth a flicker of hope in the suffocating dark. She had to move. She had to find the way out. But the trees didn’t want her to leave. The figure in the robes stepped forward, its robes whispering against the damp earth. It didn’t speak. It didn’t scream. But it didn’t leave her alone. Aurora’s vision blurred. The world around her seemed to shift, the trees bending, the shadows stretching too long, too deep. The Heartstone pulsed against her skin, warm and insistent, but the warmth wasn’t enough. She stumbled forward, her boots sinking into the earth, the ground giving way beneath her. The figure in the robes stepped closer, its robes whispering against the damp earth. Aurora’s last thought was of the pendant, of the way it pulsed against her skin, of the way it had saved her before. But the pendant didn’t save her now. The world around her seemed to dissolve, the trees bending, the shadows stretching too long, too deep. The figure in the robes stepped forward, its robes whispering against the damp earth. Aurora’s breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers tightening around the pendant’s chain. The air around it seemed to hum, the crimson glow deepening, pulsing like a heartbeat. She had to keep moving. But the trees didn’t want her to leave. The standing stones loomed closer, their ancient carvings glowing faintly now, as if drawn to the pendant’s light. The figure in the robes didn’t step forward. It didn’t speak. But it didn’t move away either. Aurora’s vision blurred. The world around her seemed to shift, the trees bending, the shadows stretching too long, too deep. The ground beneath her feet trembled one last time, and then—nothing. Aurora woke with a gasp, her breath coming in ragged bursts, her heart pounding in her chest. The flat above Silas’ bar was dark, the only light coming from the street outside, where the glow of neon signs painted the sky in jagged stripes. She sat up slowly, her fingers trembling as she unclasped the pendant from around her neck. The crimson glow was still there, faint but steady, pulsing against her skin like a heartbeat. Aurora ran a hand over her face, her fingers coming away damp. She had been dreaming. Of the grove. Of the figure in the robes. Of the way the trees had moved, of the way the air had seemed to shift, of the way she had felt—alone, but not alone. She exhaled slowly, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The grove was a dream. A bad dream. But the pendant was real. The pendant had been real. Aurora stood, her legs unsteady, and made her way to the window. The street below was alive with movement—people walking, laughing, going about their business. But the grove was gone. It had been a dream. A nightmare. But the pendant was still there, warm against her skin, its crimson glow pulsing faintly against the darkness. Aurora didn’t know what it meant. She didn’t know why she had come to the grove. But she knew one thing for certain. She had to find out. She took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the pendant’s chain. The night was still young. The world was still waiting. And the grove was waiting too.