Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMQFDV9S677K5RJHR33ZQWB

Aurora Carter had always thought Richmond Park’s silence was something peaceful, something she could ground herself in after the chaos of her day. The night, however, pressed in differently tonight. No breeze, no whisper of leaves—just a heavy stillness that clung to her skin as she pushed past the ancient oak standing stones, the boundary into the Fae Grove. She told herself it was motivation, curiosity, that rare kind of reckless which had gotten her through more than one mess before. But beneath the surface, her skin prickled with an unfamiliar warning. The moon hung low, fat and silver, casting uneven patches of light through the towering canopy. Wildflowers bobbed in the absence of wind, their petals dark and unmoving where their colors should have shimmered. The Grove’s space folded inward—more than just trees and clearing; it felt like a pocket of time, an anomaly that borrowed the night’s quiet and stretched it out. Aurora’s boots crunched softly on the leaf-strewn ground, her breath steady, her pulse beneath her ribs. She clutched the Heartstone Pendant in her palm—a faint pulse of warmth thrumming through her fingertips as it responded to the faint rays of the nearby Hel portal. She’d been told not to linger long, but she’d come for something. Something she couldn’t quite name, but trusted instinct to guide her. The shadows flickered at the edge of her vision, moving—just a flicker, a dart of darkness slipping behind a trunk, a sudden shift of something just out of reach. Her eyes flicked toward the shadows, a flicker of unease tightening her throat. She told herself it was shadows playing tricks, yet the strange silence pressed down harder, as if the very air was holding its breath. Her feet slowed. She turned her head, trying to pin down what felt wrong. It wasn’t just her nerves—though her heart hammered a little faster—something about the Grove had changed, subtly but undeniably. The wildflowers should have been shimmering now, even in the dimness, but they appeared dull, darkened, as if drained of life. A noise—soft and deliberate—settled behind her. She spun, rapid but cautious, eyes sharp. Nothing. Just the quiet rustle of leaves. Her hand brushed the pendant instinctively, feeling its familiar warmth. She was here for a reason—something about the pulse, about the faint glow she couldn’t fully understand. But now doubt rooted itself deeper, a cold thing that slipped into her bones. She took a step back, her gaze sweeping the shadows. A flicker of movement caught her eye again—something gray and indistinct, darting at the corner of her vision, gone before she could focus on it. Her breath caught. She told herself she was imagining it, that her mind was filling in the blanks in this moonlit ghost story she’d wandered into. But her skin crawled regardless. The Grove’s quiet grew oppressive, like a weight she couldn’t shrug off. The wildflowers seemed to veer away from her, petals curling inward as if retreating from an unseen predator. Her eyes darted from one shadow to another, faster now, each movement too quick for her to pin down, yet persistent enough to leave a lingering sense of dread. The trees around her leaned closer, their branches whispering—an unintelligible whisper that stabbed at her senses, making her stomach tighten. She took another step backward, then froze. A faint, almost imperceptible glow—like the pulse of an unseen heartbeat—began emanating from the depths of the Grove. Her logical mind offered no explanation; a part of her instinct screamed to get out. Still, she couldn’t. Not yet. A shiver ran down her spine, not from fear alone but from a prickling awareness that something was waiting—and perhaps had been for a long, long time. A rustle. Just behind her now. Slow, deliberate. Not animal, not wind. A pattern, a rhythm. Her eyes snapped around, searching, hairs on her arms standing upright. She tightened her grip on the pendant. Its warmth felt like a reassurance, but even that comfort was fragile against the oppressive silence. Then, she saw it. A flicker at the corner of her vision—nothing concrete, just a flicker like the image of blood shimmering in moonlight. She blinked, and it was gone. The shadows danced again, not flickering, but swirling slightly, as if the darkness was alive, breathing. Her mind tried to convince her to turn away, to flee. But her feet refused to move, rooted by something unseen, something ancient. She steadied herself, breath shallow, gaze fixed on the darkening expanse. Her fingers tangled around the chain of the Heartstone Pendant, squeezing tight to anchor herself. The wildflowers, usually resilient, now shriveled rapidly, wilting in unnatural silence. The clearing grew darker, the faint glow more pronounced. It pulsed in rhythm—closer, steadier—like a heartbeat she could feel vibrating in her bones. A shadow detached itself, slow and deliberate, from behind a tall, twisted tree. Aurora’s eyes widened. It had no form, not quite—just a darkness shaped by motion, rippling with the faint glow of some unseen core. Its presence was enormous, yet it moved with a stalking grace, as if it had been waiting for her to arrive. A coldness spread through her chest, her breath catching in her throat. She knew—somewhere deep in her gut—that this was no longer a place of mere trees and flowers. Something else had seeped in, slipped into her sanctuary, and it was watching her. A whisper brushed her mind—soft, like the wind’s ghostly version, whispering her name in a voice she almost recognized. She trembled, not from fear only, but from the realization that her search had twisted her into this moment—the thread pulled tight, and the fabric of her world starting to unravel. She dared to take a step back, but the shadows surged forward, curling like smoke, swallowing the space between her and the darkness. The pulse from the Heartstone grew restless, the faint glow intensifying, flickering wildly. And suddenly, the Grove seemed to breathe—a slow, horrifying inhale—and she understood this wasn’t just a quiet, isolated night. This was the moment the Grove had been waiting for. She was not alone.