Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPADVZSX6J3W3J529ZXJK8

The air in Richmond Park carried the crisp bite of autumn, but as Aurora stepped between the ancient oak standing stones, the temperature dropped sharply. Her breath fogged before her, illuminated by the weak beam of her phone’s flashlight. The trees here were too tall, their branches too twisted, their bark too smooth—like they had been carved rather than grown. The wildflowers blooming in defiance of the season glowed faintly underfoot, their petals shimmering with an unnatural iridescence. She shouldn’t have come. But Eva had insisted. *"The Fae Grove is the only place they won’t follow,"* she’d said, her voice tight with urgency. *"Meet me there at midnight."* Aurora checked her watch. 12:07. Eva was never late. The Heartstone pendant against her collarbone pulsed, a slow, rhythmic warmth that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. She touched it absently, the deep crimson gemstone humming beneath her fingertips. It had been a gift—left on her doorstep with no note, no explanation. Just the pendant and the unshakable sense that she was meant to wear it. A twig snapped somewhere to her left. She spun, flashlight cutting through the darkness. Nothing. Just the sway of tall grass, the whisper of leaves. But the sound had been too deliberate, too close. "Eva?" she called, voice steadier than she felt. No answer. The wind picked up, carrying with it a scent like damp earth and something metallic—blood, maybe, or rust. Aurora’s pulse thudded in her ears. She took a step back, then another, her heel catching on a root. She stumbled, barely catching herself before she fell. When she looked up, the standing stones were closer. That wasn’t possible. She’d walked straight in, hadn’t she? The clearing wasn’t large enough for her to have lost her bearings. But the stones loomed around her now, their surfaces too smooth, too dark, like they’d been polished by hands that weren’t human. A whisper skittered across the back of her neck. She whirled again, heart hammering. The flashlight flickered, the beam dimming for a second before flaring back to life. Shadows stretched long and wrong, twisting in ways that made her stomach clench. Something moved at the edge of her vision—a flicker of pale fabric, a flash of dark hair. "Eva?" she tried again, voice cracking. Silence. Then—laughter. Soft, lilting, just beyond the trees. A child’s laughter, light and carefree. Aurora’s blood turned to ice. There were no children here. Not at this hour. Not in this place. The Heartstone pulsed again, hotter this time, the warmth spreading through her chest like a warning. She gripped it tighter, the silver chain biting into her skin. The laughter came again, closer now. Aurora backed up until her shoulders hit one of the standing stones. The surface was cold, too cold, seeping through her jacket like it was leaching the heat from her bones. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe. *Think, Rory. Think.* She had to get out. Now. She pushed away from the stone, turning toward where she thought the entrance had been—but the path was gone. The trees had shifted, their trunks knotted together like grasping fingers. The wildflowers underfoot had curled inward, their petals closing like tiny mouths. The laughter echoed around her, bouncing between the trees until she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Then, abruptly, it stopped. The silence was worse. Aurora’s fingers trembled as she fumbled for her phone, thumb swiping to call Eva. The screen lit up—NO SERVICE—before going black. Dead. Something rustled in the grass ahead of her. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. A shape emerged from the darkness—small, hunched, crawling on all fours. Its movements were jerky, unnatural, limbs bending in ways that made her stomach twist. It lifted its head, and Aurora’s breath caught. No face. Just smooth, blank skin where features should have been. The thing tilted its head, as if listening. Then it scuttled forward, too fast, too fluid, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. Aurora bolted. She ran blindly, branches whipping at her arms, roots snagging at her ankles. The air grew thicker, harder to breathe, like she was wading through water. Behind her, the thing kept pace, its ragged breaths too close, too eager. The pendant burned against her skin, the heat searing now, pulsing in time with her frantic heartbeat. She clutched it, gasping, and— A hand grabbed her arm. Aurora screamed, wrenching away, but the grip held firm. "Rory! *Rory!* Look at me!" Eva. Her friend’s face swam into focus, her dark eyes wide with panic. "What are you *doing* here?" Eva hissed, yanking her forward. "You weren’t supposed to come alone!" Aurora opened her mouth to answer, but the words died in her throat. Over Eva’s shoulder, the faceless thing stood perfectly still. Watching. Waiting. The Heartstone flared, its crimson glow cutting through the dark like a warning. Eva didn’t seem to notice. She pulled Aurora toward the standing stones, her fingers icy. "We have to go. *Now.*" Aurora let herself be dragged, but her skin prickled with the certainty that whatever had been in the grove with her— Was still following.