Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMQS4NQXKHZB6RA9X8471YP

Aurora stepped through the ancient oak standing stones that marked the boundary of the Fae Grove, the faint crackle of underbrush underfoot the only sound at first. The night air was cool and fragrant, heavy with the scent of wildflowers that bloomed year-round here, a softness that felt foreign, almost out of place beneath the weight of darkness pressing in around her. A thin silver chain rested against her neck, a small crimson pendant nestled just above her collarbone. It pulsed faintly with warmth—a heartbeat in the chill—a quiet reassurance, though tonight its glow seemed dimmer, subdued. She’d come for a reason. Eva’s voice echoed in her memory, urging her here, promising answers, clarity. Yet from the moment the stones had closed behind her, a misstep huddled in her belly, tight and cold. Something was wrong. The grove stretched out before her, a clearing rimmed with towering oaks that wove their tangled limbs like protective arms, but the usual comfort of nature’s company was absent. If anything, the trees seemed watchful, their trunks blotched black with ancient scars, knotting like the veins in the skin of old hands. The soft shimmer of wildflowers was there, but the colors muted, dulled by shadows too deep for moonlight to reach. Aurora paused, looking up through the canopy. The moon was a ragged sliver, barely enough silver to chase away the dark. Her breath misted in the chill, short and uneven. A rustle slid beyond the edges of her vision. She whirled. Nothing. Only swaying branches and the whisper of a breeze that didn’t reach her skin. “I’m alone,” she said, voice low, steadier than she felt. The forest swallowed her words, returning only silence. She moved deeper into the clearing, senses straining. The night pressed heavily, tactile and oppressive. Time felt different here—it always did—but this was worse, the seconds dragging with insidious weight. Her fingers brushed the pendant—warm, almost soothing amid the cold. A soft thump, distant yet deliberate. Her heart jumped, twisting tight in her chest. Footsteps? No, the leaves on the ground hadn’t shifted enough. She forced herself to breathe, counting silently. One, two, three. A flicker beyond the trees—movement at the edge of her sight. She turned quickly again. A shadow melded with darkness beyond the grove, just out of reach. Shapes blurred in the periphery, impossible to grasp. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her nerves. "Just shadows. Just tricks." Aurora’s mind raced. Leave now? But Eva’s note was clear—answers were here, in this place. Somewhere. The grove’s very air seemed woven with secrets, but tonight it bore a different scent: unease. The pendant throbbed faintly, an anchor in the growing void. Steps crunching nearby—soft but deliberate. She froze, straining to pinpoint the source. Her eyes searched through dense trunks, branches arching like skeletal fingers. A whisper drifted on the wind, syllables barely formed, delicate and foreign. Goosebumps prickled her arms as the sound tangled with the rustling leaves. The whisper swooped closer, almost seductive, yet chilling. “Who’s there?” she called, voice firmer this time. Only silence answered. The night shifted. The grove felt smaller, more confined as if the trees contracted inward. A soft, rhythmic tapping came now, like long fingernails tracing bark—too slow for a creature at pace, too regular to be nature’s doing. Aurora stepped backwards, heart thrumming, the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist tingling beneath the long sleeve of her jacket. Shadows peeled off the trees, forming shapes—figures bent and shifting like smoke—just at the edge of where moonlight dared venture. Faces flickered in the darkness for a breath, features warped and ephemeral, then dissolved. The cold seeped deeper, settling in her bones. There was no denying it now: She was not alone. A flicker from the pendant—warmth pulsing stronger, warring with the chill in the air. It grew brighter, casting slender strands of deep crimson across the roots and soil. A soft whimper curled in the underbrush. Aurora’s breath caught. She stepped cautiously toward the sound, every nerve screaming retreat, but her feet obeyed an iron will. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, threading through the trees, weaving spells she couldn’t name but felt in the marrow of her bones. Between two gnarled oaks, the ground seemed to breathe. The wildflowers bent subtly, as if bowing to an unseen force. A cold hand of dread brushed her spine. The clearing darkened suddenly, air snapping tight. Her skin prickled as the pendant’s pulse hit a fevered pitch. Then a figure emerged from the shadows. Tall, impossibly slender, draped in tattered robes of shadow and moonlight, eyes luminescent—not human, but not quite beast—a being shaped of half-recognized dreams and nightmares. Aurora’s breath stuck, frozen mid-exhale. The figure’s presence pressed against her mind, a silent invocation of dread and sorrow intertwined. It didn’t speak. It needed no words. Its gaze held centuries—a hunger wrapped in silence. Her hand moved to the pendant, feeling its warmth burn through nerves that screamed to flee, but she stood rooted, heart a fierce beacon in the suffocating dark. The figure tilted its head, a gesture both curious and cruel. The whispers swirled, forming melodies that were beautiful and terrible all at once. Aurora’s mind raced. Run, hide, fight? The old instincts roared to life unlike anything since she left Evan behind. But here—alone, vulnerable, exposed—escaping this place might mean never uncovering the truth she’d sought. She swallowed the terror rising like a storm inside and lifted her chin. “What do you want?” Her voice was small but steady. The figure slowly extended a hand, and the pendant’s crimson light flared, casting eerie shadows that danced wildly beneath the ancient oaks. In that frozen moment, the grove held its breath. Then the wind stilled. Silence crashed around her like waves. The figure vanished—dissolving into the night air—as if it had been nothing but a dream spun from shadow and fear. Aurora blinked, alone once more. Yet beneath her skin, the cold lingered—persistent, unwelcome. She reached up, tracing the crescent scar on her wrist, grounding herself to the here and now. The pendant’s glow softened, a faint heartbeat steady in the quiet dark. She was alone. But the grove whispered its warning: This night had changed everything. And the watching was far from over.