Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPCDNAASR53TTZVV14DP8C

The air shimmered like heat rising from pavement as Aurora stepped through the standing stones. The Heartstone pendant at her throat pulsed warm against her skin, its crimson glow casting strange shadows across the ancient oak bark. Behind her, Nyx's form flickered between solid and incorporeal, their violet eyes scanning the grove with quiet intensity. "Careful where you step," Isolde murmured, her silver hair catching the impossible moonlight that filtered through the canopy. "The ground remembers." Aurora looked down. Wildflowers bloomed in impossible colors—petals shifting from indigo to gold as she watched, their scent thick as honey. Her boots left no impression in the soft moss, though Isolde's bare feet left no mark at all. The air tasted electric, like licking a battery, and every breath made Aurora's skin prickle with awareness. Nyx drifted forward, their shadowy hand passing through a cluster of glowing mushrooms. "This place is older than the stones that mark it," they whispered, the words curling like smoke. "The Veil is tissue-thin here." Ahead, the trees arched together to form a natural corridor, their trunks twisted into shapes that made Aurora's eyes water if she looked too long. The bark pulsed with faint bioluminescence, veins of blue and green light tracing patterns that almost formed words. She reached out— "Don't." Isolde caught her wrist, the crescent scar there tingling at the Half-Fae's touch. "The trees dream, and their dreams have teeth." Aurora pulled back just as the nearest trunk shuddered, the glowing patterns rearranging themselves into something that looked disturbingly like a face. The Fae-forged blade at her hip hummed in response, its cold weight suddenly more pronounced. They moved deeper, the grove shifting around them. Time stretched and compressed—Aurora's watch hands spun lazily backward before stopping altogether. The canopy overhead revealed a sky that wasn't sky at all, but a swirling tapestry of colors too vivid to name, shot through with streaks of silver like comet trails. "Look." Nyx pointed to a clearing where the air shimmered like disturbed water. Through the distortion, Aurora glimpsed impossible shapes—towers of living crystal, bridges spun from spider silk, things that moved in ways that defied physics. The scent of roasting meat and exotic spices drifted through, making her stomach growl despite herself. Isolde's lavender eyes darkened. "Dymas leaks through. Close your mouth unless you wish to taste temptation." Aurora snapped her jaw shut just as a golden-skinned figure stepped into view on the other side of the shimmer. Their six-fingered hands carried a platter of fruits that glistened like jewels, their smile revealing too many teeth. The Heartstone pendant burned hot against Aurora's collarbone, and she stumbled back as the vision dissolved into mist. Nyx's form rippled in alarm. "We're being watched." The grove had gone preternaturally still. Even the ever-shifting flowers froze mid-bloom. From the corner of her eye, Aurora caught movement—shapes flitting between the trees, too fast to focus on. The Fae blade's glow intensified, casting sharp shadows that didn't quite match the light source. Isolde raised a hand, her palm upturned. A silver moth alighted on her fingers, its wings etched with tiny runes. "The Court knows we're here," she murmured. "They're curious." Aurora's pulse hammered in her throat. The air grew thick, pressing against her skin like invisible hands. Something rustled in the undergrowth—a sound like dry leaves, though nothing moved. Then came the whispers, just at the edge of hearing, words in a language that made her teeth ache. Nyx solidified fully for the first time since entering the grove, their shadowy form resolving into sharp edges. "We should turn back." But the path behind them had vanished, replaced by a wall of thorns that hadn't been there moments before. The vines twisted and knotted themselves as they watched, forming patterns that tugged at Aurora's mind, promising secrets if she'd just look a little longer— Isolde snapped her fingers. The sound cracked like ice breaking. "Focus. The grove plays tricks." She pressed her palm against the nearest standing stone, murmuring words that slithered away before Aurora could catch them. The stone pulsed once, twice, and the thorns shivered apart to reveal a new path—this one lined with mushrooms that glowed a sickly yellow. The deeper they went, the heavier the air became, until Aurora felt like she was moving through syrup. Her breath came in short gasps, each inhale thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic. The Fae blade's glow had turned urgent, its light strobing in time with the Heartstone's pulses. Then the trees opened up into a circular clearing. At its center stood a pool of perfectly still water, its surface reflecting not the sky, but a starscape Aurora didn't recognize. Constellations shifted and reformed as she watched, telling stories in a language written in light. Isolde knelt at the water's edge. "This is what we came for." She trailed her fingers through the surface, and the stars rippled, forming new patterns. "The Mirror of Mnemosyne. It shows truths, but never the ones you expect." Aurora crouched beside her, drawn by some instinct she couldn't name. As her reflection resolved, she didn't see her own face staring back, but a figure wreathed in shadow—their eyes twin points of violet light, their hands clawed and grasping. She recoiled, but the image shifted again, showing a city street she recognized as Cardiff, but twisted, buildings melted like candle wax under an amber sky. Nyx made a sound like wind through dead leaves. "The Veil is tearing." The water's surface darkened abruptly, the stars winking out one by one. From the depths rose a sound—low, resonant, vibrating in Aurora's bones. The pool's edges began to frost over, the ice spreading unnaturally fast. Isolde yanked Aurora back just as the entire surface froze solid with a crack that echoed through the grove. In the ice, something moved. Aurora's breath caught. The frozen surface showed a vast hall where figures in elaborate masks lounged on piles of silken cushions, feasting on dishes that still writhed. At the head of the table sat a being with too many joints, their face hidden behind a golden mask shaped like a boar's head. As if sensing their gaze, the figure looked up—directly at Aurora—and raised a goblet in salute. The Heartstone pendant burned white-hot. Aurora clutched at it instinctively, her vision swimming with afterimages of that golden mask. When she blinked, the ice was just ice again, the vision gone. Isolde's fingers dug into her shoulder. "Prince Belphegor knows your face now. That's unfortunate." Nyx's form flickered violently. "We've overstayed our welcome." The grove seemed to agree. The trees groaned as if in pain, their bioluminescent veins dimming. The flowers curled in on themselves, petals turning to ash before their eyes. Even the air seemed to thicken, pressing down on them like a physical weight. Isolde moved first, her bare feet silent on the moss. "This way. Quickly." They ran as the grove collapsed around them, the path twisting and turning like a living thing. Aurora's lungs burned, the Fae blade bouncing against her hip with every step. Behind them, the whispers rose to a crescendo—laughter now, cruel and bright and hungry. Then suddenly they were through, stumbling back between the standing stones into the ordinary twilight of Richmond Park. Aurora collapsed to her knees, gasping. Her watch ticked normally again, the hands showing only twenty minutes had passed. Nyx solidified fully, their violet eyes wide. "That was—" "Only the beginning," Isolde finished, brushing nonexistent dirt from her dress. She looked at Aurora with something like pity. "The Mirror has shown you a path. Whether you walk it is your choice." Aurora touched the Heartstone pendant, still warm against her skin. The memory of that golden mask haunted her, the weight of unseen eyes making the hairs on her neck stand up. Somewhere beyond the Veil, something had taken notice. And it was waiting.