Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPCZACTNW62E7RGCE98G1G

Rory stepped through the ancient oak standing stones, the darkness within The Fae Grove swallowing her whole. She had always been drawn to this place, despite its unsettling allure. Tonight, she had a purpose. The Heartstone Pendant, now a constant companion since its mysterious arrival, pulsed faintly against her chest, its deep crimson gemstone seeming to sear her skin. According to the cryptic note accompanying the pendant, this grove held the key to understanding its origins – and the elusive Hel portals it supposedly detected. As she walked, the rustle of leaves and snapping of twigs beneath her feet served as a stark reminder of the grove's isolating silence. The air clung to her like a damp shroud, heavy with the scent of blooming wildflowers that defied the season. Rory breathed deeply, her bright blue eyes straining to adjust to the absence of light. The sky above, a deep shade of indigo, seemed to press down upon her, making the standing stones appear like sentinels guarding a macabre secret. Her gaze roved across the clearing, the silver chain of the pendant glinting dully in the faint, ethereal glow that permeated The Fae Grove. She had been here countless times, yet tonight, every step felt like a trespass. A shiver darted down her spine as she halted before a particularly robust wildflower, its petals swaying in an unseen breeze. The movement seemed... deliberate. "Aurora Carter, always chasing shadows," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the soft hum of nocturnal insects. The name echoed back, a haunting reminder of her solitude. Rory continued her search, the silence beginning to fray her nerves. Every so often, she would catch the whisper of a sound – a muffled footstep, the creak of a branch – only to turn and find nothing. The darkness seemed to thicken, taking on a life of its own. She spun around, her eyes locked onto a point just beyond the treeline, where the shadows appeared to coalesce into a presence. "Hello?" The word hung in the air, unanswered. With each passing moment, the sensations intensified. The pendant's pulsations grew stronger, warming her skin. Rory's heart quickened, her breath catching in her throat as she sensed movement at the edge of her vision. She whirled, but there was never anything there. The standing stones, once benign, now seemed to loom over her, casting long, ominous silhouettes across the ground. "Enough," she whispered, her voice laced with a growing unease. "I know I'm not alone." Rory took a deliberate step back, her hand instinctively rising to the pendant. The deep crimson gemstone now glowed with an faint, inner light, as if responding to her fear. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation, and that was when she heard it – a low, mournful sigh that seemed to emanate from all around her, yet from nowhere at the same time. The sound sent shivers coursing down her spine. Rory's eyes snapped open, her gaze darting wildly across the clearing. The wildflowers, once a vibrant, if eerie, display of color, now appeared twisted and macabre, their petals seeming to reach out like skeletal fingers. Time, notoriously fluid within The Fae Grove, began to warp and distort. Minutes stretched into an eternity, each tick of her watch echoing through the silence like a death knell. Rory's skin crawled beneath her jacket, the small, crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist itching with a maddening intensity. She knew then that she had to leave, to escape the crushing, oppressive atmosphere that threatened to consume her. Yet, her feet seemed rooted to the spot, as if some unseen force had other plans for her. And then, without warning, the grove fell silent. The insects ceased their chirping, the wind died, and the pendant's glow dimmed, plunging Rory into an inky blackness that was absolute. In that moment, she knew she was not alone. The presence, once a lurking specter, now stood just beyond the threshold of perception, watching her with cold, calculating interest. Rory's breath caught in her throat as she realized, with horrifying certainty, that she was being waiting for – and that her departure was far from guaranteed. With a jolt of adrenaline, Rory turned and sprinted toward the standing stones, the darkness erupting into a cacophony of sound as she burst through the ancient oak sentinels, leaving The Fae Grove's unholy silence behind. The night air enveloped her like a cool balm, but she didn't stop running until the lights of Silas' bar twinkled like a haven in the distance, the safety of her flat above beckoning her to escape the clutches of the darkness she had so narrowly fled.