Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPD30NRVR9NVFYBMM8E2NF

Aurora Carter stepped over the ancient oak standing stones, her breath catching in her throat. The transition was seamless, like slipping from one dream into another. Behind her, Richmond Park stood, serene and mundane with its rolling green fields and scattered joggers. Before her stretched the Fae Grove, resplendent in its otherworldly beauty. “Welcome to Isolde’s grove,” she whispered, almost to herself, relishing the way the wildflowers seemed to hum beneath her feet. Their vibrant petals—royal blue, fiery red, and every shade in between—swayed as if touched by an invisible breeze. Silas, her stalwart companion, stepped in behind her, his rough-hewn features softening in the enchanting light that filtered down through the canopy of silver-leaved trees. “Feels like a place out of time,” he murmured, his voice gruff yet awed. The faint shimmer of the Veil still played at the edge of his vision, a ripple in the air that reminded him how close they were to something profoundly other. Rory led the way, her sharp eyes flitting from one wonder to the next. The grove was alive with sound—whispered secrets in the rustle of leaves, a delicate melody in the trickle of a hidden stream. The very air seemed to buzz with unspoken promises. “Nyx said to follow the path until it splits at the twin oaks,” she reminded herself more than Silas, their instructions still vivid as if the Shade’s whisper lingered in the breeze. Silas grunted an acknowledgment, keeping close. He had never understood her trust in the Shade, but something about this quest felt right. Necessary. As they ventured deeper, the flora changed. The trees grew taller, their trunks wider, their bark shimmering like diamond dust. The ground underfoot was soft, spongy, and each step released the scent of fresh rain and blooming flowers. They passed clusters of mushrooms that glowed faintly, casting an ethereal light on the path. Somewhere ahead, the soft trill of a bird, or something that sounded like one, echoed through the trees. They approached the twin oaks, ancient and grand, their massive limbs entwined like lovers in an eternal embrace. “This must be it,” Rory said, halting beside them. The path diverged into two narrow trails. One led into a darker, denser part of the grove, while the other, brighter and more welcoming, wound its way further into the heart of the grove. “Which way?” Silas asked, surveying the options. “The brighter path,” Rory decided, drawn by an instinct she could not explain. The way ahead glowed as if moonlight had been caught and woven through the leaves and flowers. A path of luminescence leading them onwards. With each step, the air grew cooler, a refreshing contrast to the mild day they had left behind. Rory’s thoughts drifted to Isolde, the enigmatic Seer. A part of her balked at the idea of meeting someone so ancient, so intertwined with the Fae. But another part, a part she’d long honed through years of quick, out-of-the-box thinking, told her this was their only hope. “Hey, Rory,” Silas said, breaking her reverie. He pointed to a cluster of glowing orbs hovering near a small pond. “What do you make of those?” The orbs floated with an almost deliberate slowness, their soft, golden light reflecting on the water’s surface. “Will-o’-the-wisps?” she guessed, bending down to get a closer look. They seemed benign, little more than curious observers. But then, in a place like this, who could say? “Let’s not stray,” she advised, standing up and continuing on. The grove seemed to pulse with energy the deeper they ventured. She kept a hand on her Fae-Forged Blade, a comforting reminder of Isolde’s promised protection. The cold metal was almost reassuring, a contrast to the warmth that soaked into her bones. Suddenly, the temperature dropped, the atmosphere growing heavy and charged. Rory’s breath came out in white puffs. “Do you feel that?” she asked, glancing at Silas. “Yeah,” he replied, eyes narrowing. “Feels like we’re being—watched.” Ahead of them, the grove opened into a clearing. There, bathed in a shimmering light, stood Isolde Varga. The ancient Seer was as ethereal as Rory had imagined, her silver hair flowing like liquid moonlight down to her waist. Her pale lavender eyes watched them with the intensity of someone who saw far beyond the present. “Welcome, Aurora and Silas,” Isolde greeted, her voice melodious, each word resonating as if the grove itself were speaking. She stood still, leaving no footprints on the lush grass. “You seek answers that lie beyond the ordinary.” Rory stepped forward, her fingers tightening around the Heartstone Pendant that hung around her neck. The deep crimson gem pulsed faintly, as if matching the rhythm of her heart. “We need your help,” she stated, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “I know,” Isolde replied, her eyes twinkling with ancient knowledge. She gestured to a small stone table covered in intricate carvings. “Come, sit. The path you are on is winding and treacherous. There are things you must know.” They followed her to the table, each taking a seat on the cold stone benches. Isolde reached out, her fingers tracing the Heartstone Pendant with a light touch. “This was given to you for protection,” she said, meeting Rory’s gaze. “But it also serves as a beacon.” “A beacon?” Rory echoed, frowning. “To those who would aid you,” Isolde clarified, a hint of a smile on her lips. “And to those who would thwart you.” Silas leaned forward, his eyes serious. “What do we need to do?” Isolde’s gaze flicked to him, and for a moment, it seemed as if she looked right through him. “The Veil weakens as we near the winter solstice. You must be vigilant. Seek the Rift in Dymas, where the barriers are thinnest.” Rory’s thoughts raced. The Rift in Dymas...a place of excess, under the rule of Prince Belphegor. “How do we get there?” Isolde’s smile was enigmatic. “The path will reveal itself in time. But beware, the journey will test you in ways you cannot foresee.” Rory nodded, feeling the weight of the task settle over her. “We understand.” “Do you?” Isolde’s voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of centuries. “You may find that the paths of the mortal and the Fae are not so easily untangled.” Rory exchanged a glance with Silas. They had come this far, faced shadows and secrets, and now stood at the brink of a greater unknown. Determination burned in her bright blue eyes. “We’re ready,” she said, her voice steady. Isolde watched them for a moment longer, then nodded, as if seeing something in them that satisfied her. “Very well. The Grove will guide you to the next step.” She raised a hand, and the shimmering air around them seemed to pulse once more. “May the Fates be kind.” With that, the clearing dissolved into a swirl of light and color. Rory felt herself being drawn back through the Veil, the ancient power of the grove tugging her gently but firmly. She closed her eyes, feeling the transition as a cool breeze washed over her. When she opened them again, they stood once more at the threshold of Richmond Park, the mundane world crashing back into focus. Rory took a deep breath, the scent of the wildflowers still lingering in her senses. “Well,” she said, turning to Silas. “Looks like our journey just got a lot more interesting.” Silas grinned, a rare expression of excitement lighting up his rugged face. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Together, they set off, the path before them filled with both peril and promise, each step bringing them closer to the heart of their destiny.