Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMQJ599SW7ZWT0R3XSPNH2P

Aurora Carter paused at the threshold of the Grove, the ancient oaks arching overhead like silent sentinels. Her pulse fluttered beneath her ribs, each thump a reminder of why she’d come. The night air smelled of wet earth and something faintly sweet—wildflowers that should not bloom in late October. She tugged her coat tighter and brushed a lock of black hair from her face, scanning the clearing for the standing stones that marked the boundary. Moonlight glinted off their moss-clad surfaces, and somewhere beyond them, time rippled in strange, unknowable ways. A tremor of unease slid up her spine. The stones were larger than she’d imagined, gnarled and scarred by centuries of weather. Aurora swallowed and forced her shoulders down. She stepped forward, the gravel crunching under her boots. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but she had to keep moving. Eva had insisted she try the Heartstone one more time, that the pendant might guide her to the answers she needed. Aurora owed it to herself—and to all the questions she’d been running from since London. She lifted her hand and traced the small crescent scar on her left wrist, a talisman of her own survival. The pendant rested warm against her chest, a rough thumbnail–sized stone suspended from a silver chain. Deep crimson, it lay beneath her shirt, invisible to the rest of the world but pulsing faintly now, like a heartbeat in the dark. Aurora closed her eyes and let her fingertips brush the cool metal of the chain. Its warmth seeped upward, a subtle insistence that there was something here, something waiting. A dry crack echoed behind her. She spun, breath catching. The clearing was empty. The oaks stood motionless. A chill seeped through her coat. She shivered and drew in a steadying breath. No one would follow her here. Richmond Park was locked down at night. No one even knew about the Grove except the few who listened for the ancient hum in the trees. She stepped deeper into the hollow. Wildflowers brushed her ankles—pale blues and yellows that stared up at her like watchful eyes. She remembered Eva’s warning: trust the stone, but trust your mind more. Aurora squared her shoulders. She’d come to find a portal, maybe glimpse a trace of Hel’s realm. She even half-believed she’d see a way forward, some hint to cut through the years of half-lived dread since Evan had chased her out of Cardiff. But all she felt now was cold dread. Her foot caught on a root. She stumbled and caught herself against one of the stones. Moss brushed her sleeve, damp and yielding. The pendant buzzed faintly against her sternum. Through the veil of her unease she registered it: the glow was stronger here. She pressed her palm to the gemstone through her shirt. Warmth bloomed under her palm, a gentle pulse. She nodded, heart tightening with relief. She was on the right track. A whisper. Faint, distant, like a silk gown dragging over a marble floor. Aurora froze. She strained her ears. The wind was still. No animals should wander this deep, no foxes, no birds. And yet—there it was again. A voice, low and sibilant, too soft to catch words. She tilted her head, listening. The stones behind her stood silent, but leaves rustled somewhere to her right. She stepped toward the sound, inhaling the scent of honeyed blooms and decaying leaves. The pendant pulsed faster. Aurora’s breath caught. She drew her phone from her pocket and clicked on the flashlight. The beam cut a narrow swath through the gloom, illuminating tree trunks black as wet stone. There. A movement—bright blue eyes reflecting the light from between two oaks. Aurora’s heart leapt. She started toward them. “Hello?” she called, voice steadier than she felt. “Is someone there?” Silence. The eyes vanished. The beam of her light swung. No one. Only the grooves of bark and the wildflowers, drooping under dewy weight. She frowned and lowered the phone. The hush pressed in around her, thicker than the fog in London’s streets. Her pulse stuttered. She swallowed. “Eva,” she whispered. She’d promised to text as soon as she arrived. She flicked on her screen. No signal. She sank to one knee, pressing a hand to the ground. Damp earth trickled through her fingers. She closed her eyes. There must be another way out. A path. Something tangible to hold onto. Behind her, the whisper rose into a chorus—a dozen voices weaving together like strands of smoke. Aurora snapped her eyes open. The trees seemed to shift. Oak and ash trunks leaned closer, branches curling like fingers in the faint moonlight. She gasped and scrambled to her feet. The whispering became a susurrus, an unbroken hum that filled her head. She clutched at her pendant. Let me out, she thought. The Grove was supposed to be a portal—her way in and out. Why was it trapping her? A twig snapped to her left. She swung around. The clearing was empty, but the stones trembled. Moss fell in ribbons. A breath colder than midnight drifted past her neck. Aurora kissed her teeth together. She forced herself to step forward, toward the trembling stone. If she could just touch it, maybe she could find the exit. She raised her hand, heart pounding. The pendant flared against her chest, like a warning. Her fingers brushed the stone’s surface. It was slick and slick and cold—alive with subtle vibration. Aurora recoiled. The humming in her head surged. She staggered back, chest tight. Wildflowers bowed as though a wind had swept through. She blinked and realized the petals had turned black, shriveled. Panic lanced her spine. She stumbled on the uneven ground, then found herself at the edge of the clearing, under a break in the oaks. There: a ribbon of pale moonlight. The world beyond looked normal—stray brambles, mossy trunks, the sloppy edge of the park. She bolted. Branches whipped at her face, snagging her coat. She crashed through undergrowth, lungs burning, head pounding. The whisper followed—soft, caressing, “Come back, come play.” Aurora didn’t stop. The trees turned from oaks to dense hawthorn, then to bramble and bracken. Her shoes slipped on mud. She fell face-first and tasted iron. She spat out soil, scrambled up, and staggered onward. The whisper became a high, lilted giggle that cut through her blood. Her coat snagged on a thornbush. She yanked free and tore it at the seam. Moonlight gleamed on droplets of red where her forearm had snagged. Pain bit, but she forced her legs to move. She skidded out of the thicket and found herself in the park proper: empty grass plain and distant wrought-iron fence. Stars trembled overhead. She pressed a hand to her chest, felt the pendant through cloth. Dim glow, gentle warmth. It still pulsed: a steady, reassuring beat. Aurora sank to her knees on the dew-slick grass, crying out for help, for Eva, for anything. Silence. Just the distant rustle of wildlife. No giggles, no voice. She blinked back tears. The Grove lay behind her, hidden among trees. She fought the urge to dash back, to smash the stones, to throw the pendant into the undergrowth. She slid her hand beneath her coat, pressed the pendant against her palm. The warmth soothed her, a heartbeat in the dark. She lifted her chin. She would find her way to London. She’d check the pendant again with Silas’s bar lights, with Yu-Fei’s stove flame. She would find answers—and if the Grove wouldn’t give them, she’d pry them out herself. Aurora rose, legs trembling like an old engine. She tucked the pendant beneath her shirt, pulled her torn coat closed, and began retracing her steps toward the gate. Behind her, the trees whispered. But she no longer listened. She walked on, certain that the Grove would wait. Time moved strangely there. Perhaps hours, perhaps days. It didn’t matter. She steeled her shoulders. She would return. She would be ready. And next time, she would not be alone.