Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMQNDDSPC07E0CP0JQK4XJQ

Rory tightened her jacket around herself as she stepped into the clearing, the ancient oak standing stones looming in the moonlight like silent sentinels. Richmond Park lay behind her, dark and silent, but here in the Fae Grove, the wildflowers bloomed unnaturally, their colors too vibrant for the midnight hour. She shouldn't be here—not alone, not at night—but the pendant had been warm against her skin all day, pulsing with an urgency she couldn't ignore. The chain of the Heartstone Pendant caught the moonlight as she reached up to touch it, the deep crimson gemstone emitting that faint inner glow she'd grown accustomed to over the past weeks. It was brighter tonight, almost agitated, and as her fingers brushed against the stone, a surge of warmth spread up her arm. "Easy now," she whispered to herself, to the pendant, or perhaps to whatever might be listening in the shadows. Her breath fogged in the suddenly cold air. Rory had come following a lead—a mention in one of Silas's old books that had connected the pendant to this very place. The book had spoken of gateways, of thin places between worlds, and the pendant's behavior had seemed to confirm it. But now, standing in the center of the grove, doubt crept in. The silence pressed against her eardrums, absolute and heavy. No birds, no insects, no rustle of small creatures in the undergrowth. Nothing. She took another step forward, her boots crunching on fallen leaves that seemed too dry, too brittle despite the dampness of the night. The air smelled wrong—sweet like rotting flowers, with an undertone of something metallic that made her nose wrinkle. The pendant pulsed again, more insistent this time. Rory paused, straining her ears. There. A sound. Like the snapping of a twig, but too sharp, too clean to be natural. She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the tree line at the edge of the clearing. Nothing moved. The wildflowers remained perfectly still, their faces tilted toward her as if watching. A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature traced its way down her spine. She was being watched. She knew it with the same certainty that she knew her own name. "Hello?" she called out, her voice sounding small and thin in the oppressive silence. "Is someone there?" Only silence answered her. Rory took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. She was cool-headed, intelligent—this was just her imagination running wild. The grove was known for its strange properties, for time that moved differently. That was all. Just natural phenomena she didn't yet understand. But the pendant had never lied to her before. She moved toward the center of the clearing where the moonlight fell brightest, intending to sit and wait, to see if whatever had drawn her here would reveal itself. As she walked, she noticed something new about the standing stones. They seemed closer together than they had been when she'd arrived, or perhaps the clearing had shrunk. She shook her head. Impossible. It was just a trick of the light, the way the moon cast shadows across the uneven ground. The Heartstone Pendant grew warmer against her skin, the glow intensifying until it cast a faint reddish light on the grass around her feet. She wrapped her fingers around it, seeking comfort in its familiarity, but it pulsed as if trying to warn her of something. A whisper of movement at the edge of her vision. Rory spun around, her heart hammering against her ribs. Nothing. Just the swaying of a branch that hadn't moved before. She closed her eyes, took another breath. When she opened them, she froze. Between two of the standing stones, where there had been only shadow moments before, stood a figure. Tall and thin, its features obscured by darkness, its form seeming to shift and blur at the edges. It wasn't running, wasn't attacking. It was just standing there, watching. Rory's mind raced, cataloging options. Retreat was the most logical choice, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot. The figure tilted its head, a gesture that seemed almost curious, and then it stepped forward into the moonlight. Not human. The thought struck Rory with the force of a physical blow. The proportions were wrong, the limbs too long, the face too smooth, devoid of features except for two dark holes where eyes should be. The pendant burned against her palm now, the heat almost painful. The figure's head snapped in her direction, as if it had only just noticed her presence there. Rory finally found her voice, though it came out as a croak. "What do you want?" The figure didn't answer, but it took another step forward, its movements strangely fluid, like smoke given form. And then another figure emerged from the shadows behind it. And another. Soon, a half dozen of them stood between the standing stones, all featureless, all watching her with those dark, empty eyes. Panic surged through Rory's veins, but she forced it down. Think, she told herself. There must be a reason for this, a logical explanation. The pendant had brought her here for something. As if responding to her thoughts, the Heartstone Pendant's glow suddenly flared, casting the entire clearing in an eerie red light. The figures recoiled as if struck, their forms wavering like heat haze. The sight gave Rory a surge of courage. She took a step toward them, holding the pendant out like a talisman. "Stay back!" The figures retreated a few more steps, but then seemed to regroup, their forms solidifying again. One of them raised a hand—not a human hand, with too many fingers, each ending in a point rather than a nail. Rory glanced around, looking for an escape route. The standing stones that had marked the boundary when she'd arrived now seemed to form a perfect circle around her, their surfaces etched with symbols that hadn't been there before. The wildflowers had closed ranks too, creating a dense wall of impossibly vibrant blooms. Time moved differently here, the book had said. An hour inside could be minutes or days outside. How long had she been here? Minutes? Hours? The moon still hung high in the sky, but its light seemed to be dimming, as if something was blocking it from above. The figures began to advance again, their movements now synchronized, deliberate. Rory backed away until her shoulders hit one of the standing stones. The stone was cold, colder than it should have been, and it seemed to hum with a low frequency that vibrated through her bones. The pendant continued to burn in her hand, its glow now the only light in the deepening gloom. The figures were almost upon her now, their featureless faces inches from her own. She could smell them now—the same metallic tang she'd noticed in the air, but stronger, like blood and ozone. One of them reached out, its too-many fingers brushing against her cheek. The touch was cold, electric, and Rory gasped, stumbling backward. Her hand shot out to steady herself against the standing stone, and as her skin made contact with both the stone and the pendant at the same time, something happened. The symbols on the stone flared to life, matching the crimson glow of the pendant. A sound like a thousand whispers filled the air, and the figures recoiled again, more violently this time. Their forms began to distort, to stretch and thin as if being pulled apart by invisible forces. Rory watched, frozen in place, as the figures dissolved into nothingness, leaving behind only the scent of ozone and the deepening silence. When the last of them had vanished, the pendant's glow subsided to its usual faint light, and the warmth receded to a gentle pulse against her skin. The moonlight returned to normal, and the standing stones seemed just stones again, their surfaces smooth and unmarked. Rory sank to her knees, her body trembling with reaction. She didn't know what those things had been, or why they had been drawn to her, but she knew one thing with absolute certainty: whatever door the pendant had opened, it was only the beginning. And next time, she might not be so lucky.