Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMN8N5609SKT5A21KZQXMB7

The pendant burned against her skin, its crimson pulse steady and insistent beneath her shirt. Aurora—Rory—had told herself it was just the cold, the way the wind off the Thames bit at her cheeks like a thousand tiny teeth. But the pendant didn’t care for excuses. It thrummed, a slow, rhythmic ache that vibrated up her sternum, as if something inside it had woken. She should have listened to the voice in her head—the one that had whispered *no* when she’d first slipped the thing into her pocket. But the note had been clear: *Meet me at the Grove at midnight. Alone.* No signature, no explanation, just the address scrawled in ink that smelled faintly of damp earth and something older, something that made her skin prickle. And so here she was, standing at the edge of Richmond Park, where the trees grew too close together, their branches knitting a canopy so thick the moon couldn’t pierce it. The standing stones loomed ahead, their gnarled oaks twisted like fingers reaching for the sky. The air hummed, not with crickets or rustling leaves, but with something deeper, something that made her teeth ache. She adjusted the strap of her bag, her fingers brushing the pendant again. The warmth had intensified. *You shouldn’t be here.* Rory exhaled sharply, the breath fogging in the frigid night. She wasn’t superstitious. She wasn’t *anything* like her father, who’d spent his life chasing ghosts in courtrooms. But the Grove wasn’t just a park. It was a place where the air tasted wrong, where the wildflowers never died and the standing stones had stood since before history had names for them. The note had been a mistake. She should turn back. But the pendant pulsed again, harder this time, and her pulse matched it, a frantic two-step against her ribs. She stepped forward. The moment her boots crunched over the gravel path, the world shifted. Not in a way she could name—no flash of light, no snap of sound—but like the air itself had thickened, like she’d been swallowed by something vast and patient. The trees leaned in closer. The standing stones seemed to breathe. And then— A sound. Not a rustle. Not a branch snapping. Something wet and slow, like a hand dragging through mud. Rory froze. The pendant burned against her skin, the heat seeping into her palm. She swallowed hard, her tongue thick in her mouth. *You’re being ridiculous.* But her breath came too fast. Her fingers twitched toward the pendant, as if it might shield her. Then she saw it. A flicker at the edge of her vision—something pale, something *wrong*—moving between the trees. Not a deer. Not a fox. It had too many limbs, too many joints, the way it moved, all liquid and wrong. Her stomach twisted. She wanted to scream. Wanted to run. But her feet were rooted to the ground, as if the earth itself had decided she belonged here. The thing moved again, closer this time. Rory’s pulse roared in her ears. She could feel the pendant’s heat radiating through her skin, a living thing against her chest. She clenched her fist around it, her nails biting into her palm. *What the hell are you doing here?* The voice wasn’t in her head. It was *around* her, a whisper that slithered through the air like smoke. Not hers. Not human. She turned slowly, her gaze darting between the trees. The pendant pulsed violently now, the heat searing through her shirt. The air smelled like iron and something older, something that made her skin crawl. Then she saw it. A figure stood between the oaks, too tall, too thin. Its limbs were wrong—too many joints, too many fingers, its skin the color of damp parchment, stretched too tight over bones that looked like they’d been carved from ice. Its mouth didn’t move, but the words still slithered into her mind. *You shouldn’t have come.* Rory stumbled back, her heel catching on a root. She barely caught herself, her hands flying up to steady herself. The pendant burned like a brand against her chest. The figure tilted its head, and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw something like recognition in its hollow eyes. *You’re not supposed to be here.* She swallowed. Her voice came out a whisper. “Who—who are you?” The thing didn’t answer. It just stepped forward, its movements too deliberate, too *wrong*. The pendant pulsed again, the heat radiating outward, warming the air around her. Rory’s breath came in ragged gasps. She could feel the thing’s gaze on her, heavy as a physical weight. Then the trees *moved*. Not the wind. Not branches swaying. The trees themselves seemed to lean in, their roots writhing just beneath the soil, their leaves rustling in unison, as if something vast and ancient had decided to speak. The pendant burned hotter now, the heat radiating through her, searing her skin. Rory gasped, her hands flying to her chest. The figure in front of her tilted its head again, its hollow eyes fixed on her. *You don’t belong here.* She shook her head, her voice raw. “I—I don’t know what this is, but I need to leave.” The thing didn’t move. It just stood there, its presence filling the space between them, thick and suffocating. The pendant pulsed once more, the heat radiating outward, warming the air around her. Rory’s breath came in ragged gasps. She could feel the thing’s gaze on her, heavy as a physical weight. Then the ground trembled. Not an earthquake. Not a storm. Something deeper, something that made the earth itself shudder beneath her feet. The pendant burned like fire against her skin, the heat radiating outward, searing her chest. Rory cried out, her hands flying to her face. The figure in front of her didn’t move. It just stood there, its hollow eyes fixed on her, its presence filling the space between them, thick and suffocating. *You don’t belong here.* She shook her head, her voice a broken whisper. “I don’t know who sent me, but I need to go.” The thing didn’t answer. It just stood there, its presence filling the space between them, thick and suffocating. The pendant burned hotter now, the heat radiating outward, searing her skin. Rory gasped, her hands flying to her chest. Then the trees *whispered*. Not leaves. Not wind. The trees themselves seemed to speak, their voices slithering into her mind, a chorus of whispers that made her skin crawl. *You don’t belong here.* She stumbled back, her heel catching on a root. She barely caught herself, her hands flying up to steady herself. The pendant burned like a brand against her chest. The figure in front of her tilted its head, and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw something like pity in its hollow eyes. *You don’t belong here.* Rory’s breath came in ragged gasps. She could feel the thing’s gaze on her, heavy as a physical weight. The pendant burned hotter now, the heat radiating outward, searing her skin. She gasped, her hands flying to her chest. Then the ground trembled again, and the figure in front of her *moved*. It didn’t walk. It didn’t run. It *unfolded*, its limbs stretching, its body elongating, its skin stretching too tight over bones that looked like they’d been carved from ice. The pendant burned like fire against her skin, the heat radiating outward, searing her chest. Rory screamed. The thing in front of her didn’t answer. It just stood there, its hollow eyes fixed on her, its presence filling the space between them, thick and suffocating. The pendant burned hotter now, the heat radiating outward, searing her skin. Rory gasped, her hands flying to her face. Then the trees *whispered* again, their voices slithering into her mind, a chorus of whispers that made her skin crawl. *You don’t belong here.* And the figure in front of her *laughed*.