Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPBBYN5QN41727X2KY62QC

Rory stepped out of the chill night air and into the musty stillness of Richmond Park's twilight shadows. The GPS on her phone had insisted this was the place, but as she gazed around at the seemingly endless expanse of dark trees, a shiver danced up her spine. She had come to find The Fae Grove, Isolde's grove, or just the Grove, as Eva had cryptically referred to it. The stories Eva had shared – whispered tales of a hidden world within a world – had piqued Rory's curiosity, especially after the strange arrival of the Heartstone Pendant a fortnight ago. Its deep crimson gemstone, now secure against her chest on its silver chain, had pulsed with an otherworldly warmth the moment she'd decided to seek out this place. As she ventured deeper into the park, the trees grew taller, their branches tangling above her like skeletal fingers. Rory quickened her pace, the soft earth beneath her boots muffling her approach. The Grove, Eva had said, was not to be found on any map, but rather, it found you when the time was right. Rory's skepticism had been her constant companion until now, standing amidst this foreboding landscape. A faint, eerie glow began to permeate the darkness ahead. Wildflowers, blooming in defiance of the season, cast an ethereal light across the forest floor. The air thickened with the sweet, heavy scent of their blossoms. Rory's heart skipped a beat as the trees parted, revealing the ancient oak standing stones marking the boundary of The Fae Grove. She approached the entrance cautiously, the silence around her oppressive. The pendant's warmth intensified, but there was no glow – no sign of a Hel portal, as the cryptic note accompanying the pendant had hinted at. With a deep breath, Rory stepped between the standing stones. Inside the grove, time seemed to bend and twist. The sky above, a deep, obliterating black, appeared to vibrate with the promise of stars, yet none twinkled to light her way. The wildflowers here bloomed with an even greater fervor, their colors more vivid, more alive. But it was the quiet that truly unnerved her – a quiet so profound it felt like a living, breathing entity wrapping itself around her. Rory moved cautiously, her eyes straining to penetrate the darkness beyond the floral glow. It was then she heard it – the slightest whisper of leaves, the soft creak of a branch, too deliberate to be attributed to the wind. She spun around, but there was no one. The sounds ceased. "Hello?" Her voice, barely above a whisper, was swallowed by the grove. The only response was the 죽ening of the wildflowers' colors, as if the very light itself was being slowly drained away. A chill descended, not from the temperature, but from a creeping sense of being watched. Rory's gaze darted around, but each shadow remained just a shadow. She took a step back, her hand instinctively seeking the pendant. Its warmth had diminished, now a faint echo of what it once was. A soft breeze stirred, carrying with it the faint hum of... voices? The sound was too indistinct to decipher, but it sent a shiver down her spine. Rory's attempt to step forward was halted by an inexplicable fear. It wasn't the grove itself, but the feeling that she was being herded, subtly guided towards some unknown fate. The whispers grew louder, not in volume, but in clarity. Words began to take shape, though she couldn't quite grasp their meaning. Suddenly, the wildflowers flared to life, bathing the clearing in a blinding light. Rory raised her hands to shield her eyes. When she opened them again, the light had dimmed, but the grove had changed. The standing stones now seemed to loom over her, casting long, ominous shadows. A figure, just beyond the edge of perception, moved. Rory's heart leapt. She spun around, but there was never anyone there. The dance of perceived movement and actual stillness continued, each instance heightening her alarm. "I should leave," she whispered to herself, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot. The whispers coalesced into a single, haunting melody, weaving in and out of her recognition. It was a lullaby, one her mother used to sing, but with lyrics that now spoke of departure and farewell. Tears pricked at the corners of Rory's eyes. With a surge of adrenaline, she broke free from her trance-like state and turned towards the entrance. The standing stones seemed to shift, their openings narrowing as if to bar her way. Rory sprinted towards them, the melody swirling around her, a maddening cacophony that threatened to consume her. She burst through the stones, emerging on the other side with a gasp. The Richmond Park night, chilly and dark, enveloped her like a shroud. The silence here was a palpable relief. Rory didn't stop running until the trees thinned, and the distant lights of the city twinkled to life before her. Breathless, she finally halted, looking back. The park behind her was just a park, the darkness unremarkable. But nestled within that mundane landscape, hidden from prying eyes, The Fae Grove waited. And Rory, with a pervasive sense of unease, knew she would return. As she turned to leave, the Heartstone Pendant, now a cold, inert weight against her chest, seemed to whisper a haunting promise: she would indeed return, and next time, she would not be alone.