Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMQWAQJCD05CRND1MWBVGXC

The air in Richmond Park grew heavy, dense with a peculiar quiet that pressed on Aurora’s eardrums. She pulled her denim jacket tighter against the sudden chill, despite the calendar ticking well into July. Tonight, the familiar paths of the park felt alien, the towering oaks twisting into gnarled, shadowy sentinels. The moon, a sliver of white, offered little comfort, its light swallowed by the thick canopy overhead. Rory consulted the crumpled map in her hand, a scrawled approximation of directions given to her by cryptic text messages. “Go until the path disappears,” one read. “Follow the sound of silence,” another advised. Nonsense, she’d thought, until now. The paved path had indeed dissolved into a deer trail, and the chirping of crickets, the distant hum of city life, all faded into an oppressive hush. She clutched the Heartstone Pendant, its familiar weight on her chest. Since it had appeared in her life weeks ago, it had become a strange comfort, a constant touchstone in a world that had become increasingly bizarre. Tonight, however, it offered no warmth, no pulse of energy. Just cold metal against her skin. According to Eva’s panicked call, this was where the trouble started, where things went 'missing.' Eva had been vague on purpose, using codenames and hushed tones, afraid their phones were tapped. Rory had promised to check it out, mostly to humor her friend, but a seed of unease had already taken root. The Fae Grove. The name had sent a prickle down her spine when Eva had whispered it. A “pocket between worlds,” Eva had called it, a place where time didn't behave and wildflowers bloomed year-round. Rory, ever the pragmatist, had rolled her eyes. Now, standing on the threshold of whatever this place was, she felt less skeptical, more unnerved. The ancient oak standing stones, grey and lichen-covered, marked the boundary, just as the texts had described. They formed a rough circle, half-hidden by overgrown ferns, their silent presence more ominous than welcoming. Rory stepped between two of them, the air immediately thickening, growing impossibly still. She glanced back, but the way she’d come was already a blur, the trees pressing in, erasing her path. “Right,” she muttered, her voice swallowed by the silence. “Let’s get this over with.” She pulled out her phone, the screen a feeble beacon in the encroaching darkness. No signal. Of course. She pocketed it with a sigh, her gaze sweeping the clearing. Wildflowers, impossibly vibrant, grew in defiant clumps around the gnarled roots of ancient trees. Their petals, dewy and fresh, seemed to pulse with a faint, internal light, an optical illusion in the gloom. A shiver traced its way down her spine, a prickle of intuition. Something was watching her. Rory turned slowly, her bright blue eyes scanning the dense woods that ringed the clearing. Nothing. Just the shadows, growing longer, deeper. She told herself it was her imagination, fueled by Eva’s wild stories and the unsettling atmosphere. After all, she was a rational person. An intelligent person. A quick-thinking person. Yet, the feeling persisted, an itch beneath her skin. A faint rustling came from her left, deep within the trees. She froze, every muscle taut. It wasn’t the gentle whisper of wind through leaves; this sounded deliberate, like something moving cautiously, trying to be unheard. “Hello?” she called out, her voice a little too loud, a little too shaky. “Is anyone there?” Only the silence answered, heavier, more profound than before. The rustling stopped. Rory waited, heart pounding in her chest like a trapped bird. Her breath plumed in the cold air. This wasn't right. This wasn't a normal park at night. She thought of her comfortable flat above Silas’s bar, of the familiar chatter of the Golden Empress, of anything but this isolated, ominous place. A childhood memory surfaced, blurry and unwelcome – the sharp pain of splintered wood, the metallic taste of blood, the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. Instinct had told her to run then, too. She forced herself to take a step, then another, deeper into the Grove. Her goal was vague, even to herself. What was she looking for? “Proof,” Eva had said. Proof of what, Rory hadn’t dared to ask. As she moved, the silence around her seemed to ripple, to almost… shift. It wasn't truly silent. There was a low hum, a vibrational thrum that she couldn't quite place, too subtle to be a sound, too distinct to be nothing. It vibrated in her bones, in the soles of her feet. She stopped abruptly. A flicker of movement at the edge of her vision, to her right. She whipped her head around, but saw nothing. Just the deep shadows, the twisted trunks of ancient oaks. Her mind scrambled for rational explanations: a bird, a squirrel, a trick of the light. But it wasn’t an ordinary animal’s movement. It had been too fluid, too low to the ground. A twig snapped behind her. Rory spun around, adrenaline surging through her veins. Empty. The ground beneath her feet was scattered with dry leaves and twigs, but none were disturbed. "This is ridiculous," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You're scaring yourself, Rory." But the feeling only intensified. The woods were no longer just dark; they were watching. Every shadow seemed to coalesce, every gnarled branch to stretch out like skeletal fingers. She backed away slowly, her eyes darting from side to side. The ground felt uneven beneath her feet, the grass impossibly soft. She stumbled over a root, catching herself just before she fell. Her hand brushed against something cold and slick on the trunk of a tree. She pulled it back, a gasp catching in her throat. It felt like… wet fur. She didn't dare look closely. Her imagination, fueled by the growing dread, supplied enough detail. "I need to go," she murmured, a frantic certainty blossoming in her chest. This wasn’t just unsettling; it was wrong, fundamentally wrong. The air here was alive with something ancient, something predatory. She turned to retrace her steps, but the standing stones were gone. Or, not gone, but obscured. The trees had closed ranks, forming an impenetrable wall of darkness. Panic, cold and sharp, began to claw at her. "No, no, no," she chanted, her voice growing desperate. She walked towards where she thought the boundary was, pushing through dense undergrowth, but it only seemed to get thicker. The wildflowers, once vibrant, now seemed to glow with an eerie, sickly light, their petals drooping as if in silent mourning. The hum intensified, no longer a subtle vibration but a low, guttural growl that resonated through the earth. It wasn't the sound of an animal, not one she recognized. It was deeper, more resonant, like the very land was protesting her presence. Another sound joined it, insidious and faint: a choked sob. It came from somewhere to her left, a soft, broken sound that tugged at something primal in Rory. She hesitated, her every instinct screaming for her to run, but the sound was so helpless, so human. "Hello?" she called out again, her voice shaking. "Is someone there? Are you hurt?" The sobbing stopped abruptly. Then, a low, guttural chortle echoed through the trees, chilling her to the bone. It was not human. It was full of malice, of cold amusement. And it was much, much closer. Rory didn't wait. Survival instinct, sharp and undeniable, took over. She turned and ran, blindly crashing through the undergrowth, her heart hammering against her ribs. Branches lashed at her face, twigs snapped underfoot, but she kept going, driven by the certainty that whatever was in the Fae Grove, it was hunting her. Behind her, she heard the rustling again, faster this time, accompanied by the thudding of something heavy moving through the brush. The chortle repeated, closer still, echoing her hurried breaths. She glanced over her shoulder. And there, in the deepest shadows between the trees, she saw them. Two pinpricks of crimson light, burning with an unholy intensity, slowly, steadily closing the distance. They weren't eyes. They were something else, something ancient and hungry. The Heartstone Pendant, forgotten until now, began to pulse with a faint, insistent warmth against her skin. A Hel portal. Eva’s words screamed in her mind. This was worse than she could have imagined. This was not just a strange grove. This was the edge of something terrifying, and she was trapped firmly within its grasp.