Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMN9RVE82THZG9MSGEY7DN1

The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, the kind that bloomed only in the hidden places of the world. Rory adjusted the strap of her messenger bag, the Heartstone Pendant tucked safely beneath her shirt, its faint warmth a steady pulse against her skin. She had come to the Fae Grove for answers—answers about the pendant, about the strange dreams that had plagued her since she’d first touched it, about the way her life had unraveled in the weeks since Eva had vanished without a trace. The standing stones loomed ahead, ancient oaks twisted into shapes that defied reason, their bark blackened as if scorched by time itself. The boundary between worlds hummed at the edge of her senses, a low vibration that set her teeth on edge. She hesitated, her breath fogging in the cold air. The Grove was supposed to be safe. Isolde had sworn it. But something was wrong. The moment she stepped between the stones, the world tilted. The air grew heavier, the silence deeper. The wildflowers at her feet swayed, though there was no wind. Rory exhaled sharply, forcing herself to move forward. The clearing opened before her, bathed in the eerie glow of moonlight filtering through the canopy. The trees here were different—taller, their branches knotted into shapes that almost looked like faces. She swallowed hard. A sound cut through the stillness. A whisper. Not words. Not quite. A breath, maybe, or the rustle of leaves where there were no leaves to rustle. Rory spun, her pulse quickening. Nothing. Just the trees, their gnarled roots snaking across the ground like veins. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. *Get a grip, Carter.* She knelt, pressing her fingers into the soft earth. The pendant warmed against her chest, its crimson glow flickering faintly beneath her shirt. She had to focus. The dreams—they were always the same. A voice, calling her name. A presence, just out of reach. And the pendant, pulsing like a second heartbeat. She had come here to find out why. Another sound. Closer this time. A snap of a twig. Rory froze. The Grove was empty. It had to be. She was alone. But the air had changed, thickened, as if something had just exhaled behind her. She turned slowly, her breath shallow. The trees were watching her. Not just the shapes in the bark—the way the branches shifted, just slightly, as if leaning in. The way the shadows pooled at the base of the trunks, darker than they should have been. The way the wildflowers trembled, though the air was still. A low, wet sound slithered through the clearing. Rory’s stomach twisted. She knew that sound. She had heard it before—in the dreams. The voice. The thing that wasn’t a voice. It was coming from the trees. She took a step back, her boot sinking into the damp earth. The pendant flared hot against her skin, its glow seeping through the fabric of her shirt. The crimson light pulsed, faster now, matching the frantic rhythm of her heart. The whispers grew louder, overlapping, a chorus of breathy, guttural sounds that didn’t belong to any language she knew. Something moved at the edge of her vision. A shape. Tall. Too tall. Standing between the trees, just beyond the reach of the moonlight. Rory’s breath hitched. It wasn’t there. It couldn’t be. She blinked, and it was gone. But the whispers remained. They were inside her head now. *Rory.* Her name, spoken in a voice that wasn’t a voice. A sound like nails dragging across glass, like bones clicking together. She clapped her hands over her ears, but it didn’t help. The sound wasn’t in the air. It was in her skull. *You came back.* The pendant burned. She gasped, tearing it from beneath her shirt. The crimson gemstone glowed fiercely, casting long, wavering shadows across the clearing. The whispers sharpened, became words. *You always come back.* Rory stumbled, her back hitting the rough bark of a tree. The shadows at its base writhed, twisting into something with too many limbs, too many joints. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the image was burned into her retinas—the way the darkness pooled, the way it stretched, the way it *moved.* *You know what you are.* The voice was closer now. Right behind her. Rory whirled, her hand flying to her pocket, fingers closing around the switchblade she always carried. The pendant flared white-hot, searing her palm. She cried out, dropping it. The gemstone hit the earth with a dull thud, its glow dimming instantly. Silence. The whispers were gone. The clearing was still. Rory’s breath came in ragged gasps, her heart hammering against her ribs. She dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she reached for the pendant. The chain was cool now, the gemstone dark. She turned it over in her fingers, searching for some sign of what had just happened. A twig snapped. Rory’s head jerked up. The thing from her dreams stood at the edge of the clearing. Tall. Too tall. Its limbs were too long, its joints bending in ways that made her stomach lurch. Its skin—if it was skin—was the color of old bruises, mottled and shifting, like smoke trapped beneath the surface. Its face was a void, a hollow space where features should have been, save for the faintest suggestion of a mouth, stretched too wide, too many teeth glinting in the dim light. It tilted its head. *There you are.* Rory scrambled backward, her boots slipping in the damp earth. The thing took a step forward, its movements jerky, unnatural. The air around it warped, the trees bending away as if repelled. *You’ve been running for so long.* She fumbled for the switchblade, her fingers slick with sweat. The blade flicked open with a sharp click. The thing paused, its hollow face turning toward the sound. *You think that will help you?* Rory didn’t answer. She lunged, slashing wildly. The blade passed through the thing as if it were made of mist. It didn’t even flinch. *You can’t hurt me, little moth.* The pendant flared again, its crimson light casting jagged shadows across the clearing. The thing hissed, recoiling. Rory didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the pendant, clutching it tight in her fist. The gemstone burned, but she didn’t let go. *You don’t even know what you’re holding.* The thing’s voice was a scream now, a sound that set her teeth on edge. It lunged, its too-long fingers reaching for her. Rory braced herself, the pendant’s glow searing her skin. And then— Silence. The thing was gone. The clearing was empty. Rory stood alone, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the pendant still clutched in her fist. The gemstone was dark now, its warmth faded. She stared at it, her hands shaking. She didn’t know what had just happened. But she knew one thing for certain. She wasn’t alone. Not anymore.