Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMQWNYD2VAZJYS84HZRE29E

The gravel of the Richmond Park perimeter crunched, a sharp, distinct sound that seemed louder than it had any right to be. Aurora Carter shifted her grip on the strap of her canvas bag, the leather worn smooth against her thumb. Inside, resting against her hip, the Heartstone pendant pressed warm against her hip bone—a heat that had been unnervingly persistent since she left the M4. She shouldn't have come tonight. Logic suggested she return to the safety of her flat above Silas’s bar, brew a strong cup of tea, and pretend she hadn’t seen the rifts appearing in the skyline over the last two weeks. But the pendant wasn’t just warm; it was agitated. It throbbed with a deep, crimson rhythm that matched the sudden, hammering of her own pulse. She was chasing a signal, or perhaps trying to outrun one. She’d stolen away an hour ago after her shift at Golden Empress, claiming she was taking an extra order out to a delivery address in Kew. Her mother would have worried; her father likely would have asked about the Dymas connection she refused to disclose. Instead, she was here, in the deep silence of the royal park, guided by a hunch and a piece of jewelry she couldn’t return even if she wanted to. She stepped through the rusted gate. The automatic lights on the nearby gatehouse were dark, the security guard asleep or having called it a night. The air smelled of damp moss and decaying leaves, a heavy, earthy scent that choked the back of her throat. Aurora moved deeper into the woodland, her heels sinking softly into the damp grass. She knew this part of the park better than she knew the back of her own hand; she had lived near here for years, dodging delivery scooters and joggers. But the shadows here felt different. They weren't static; they clung to the bark of the oaks, stretching long and thin before melting back into the darkness. She pulled the Heartstone from her pocket. The small, thumbnail-sized gem burned with a dull, red light, pulsing in time with her breathing. *Pop,* *pop,* *pop.* “Aurora?” she whispered to herself, testing the air. The name felt strange on her tongue, foreign in this heavy quiet. She preferred Rory. Rory was a delivery girl, a neighbor, a girl who bought milk from corner shops and stayed out until curfew. Carter was something else. A label for the weird stuff, the magic, the erratic warmth in her chest. She followed the pulse of the stone westward, away from the main pathways, toward the older, denser thicket that bordered the deer paddocks. The trees here were ancient, their gnarled roots upheaving the earth like slow, gray snakes. Around her, the city noise of London—the distant, muffled drone of traffic and the hum of trains—had completely vanished. It wasn’t just silence; it was a vacuum. The wind didn't rustle the leaves here. Instead, the leaves held their shape, the colors washed out into a perpetual twilight that was neither night nor day. She found the standing stones just as she expected, barely visible through a screen of brambles. They were ancient oaks, split down the middle and hollowed by centuries, standing in a rough circle. Their surfaces were slick with moss, feeling cool and alien under her fingers as she brushed against them. She stepped over the threshold. The transition was physical, a compression of the air that made her ears pop and her stomach lurch. The change was instant and suffocating. Where the Richmond Park woods had been merely quiet, this place was heavy. The air was thick with the scent of wildflowers, but they were the wrong kind. Not the sweet peas or lavender of a British summer, but something sweeter, cloying, like overripe fruit left in the sun. It made her head spin. She checked her phone. The screen illuminated her pale face for a second before the brightness failed. The battery was draining, but that wasn't the problem. It was the time. Her watch read 11:15 PM, but the sky outside the trees was a bruised, twilight purple, hours away from dawn. *This place eats time,* she thought, a chill that had nothing to do with the damp creeping up her spine. *Time moves differently here.* She tightened her grip on the Heartstone. It burned hotter now, vibrating against her skin like a trapped bird. It wasn't pointing north or south; it was shaking. The warmth radiated outward, searing the skin of her palm. “Okay,” she said aloud, her voice sounding thin and useless in the vastness around her. “Okay, focus. You’re Carter. You’re smart. You got out of an abusive situation, you can handle this.” She walked in a slow circle, scanning the clearing. The flora was impossible. Flowers bloomed year-round here, petals translucent and bobbing in a wind that didn't exist. They reminded her of the glass flowers in natural history museums, preserved perfectly, dead and waiting. Then she heard it. It was faint at first, a dry, rasping sound like twigs being snapped. *Crack. Snap. Crack.* She stopped. The sound hadn't come from the wind. The wind here didn't make sound; it held the air still. She stood frozen, her blue eyes darting left and right. *Crack.* It was louder this time, closer. Directly in front of her. She stared at the shadows between two large ferns. The ferns were unnaturally large, their fronds sweeping the ground like emerald skirts. She took a step back, the heel of her boot crunching softly on the gravel of the clearing. The Heartstone grew scorching hot. It was so intense she pulled it out, raising it like a torch. The crimson light cut through the purple gloom, revealing the rough-hewn stones and the unnatural flowers. But there was no one there. A flicker of movement in her periphery. She whipped her head around, catching a glimpse of something dark darting between the roots of an ancient oak. It was too fast to be a deer, too gaited to be a fox. It moved on all fours, but the posture was wrong—stiff, armored. Aurora’s heart hammered against her ribs. She wasn’t just looking at the wrongness anymore; she was surrounded by it. The silence had broken, but not in a natural way. The air began to hum, a low-frequency thrum that vibrated in her teeth and made her teeth ache. The shadows detached themselves from the trees. They pooled at the base of the oaks, dark shapes with no discernible shape of their own, coalescing into writhing, amorphous masses. They didn't look at her. They circled her, their edges fuzzy and indistinct, like ink spilled in water that had settled but not dried. She took another step back, her spine pressing against the cold stone of the standing stones. She was boxed in. *Hel portal,* she thought, the realization crashing over her. The pendant was warm because a portal was close, or because it had already opened and these things were the discard pile of whatever dimension lay beyond. The masses were getting closer. They didn't make a sound, but their presence was a physical weight, a pressure that felt like hands pressing down on her shoulders. Aurora raised the Heartstone higher, the crimson glow pulsing frantically. “Stay back!” she shouted, her voice cracking. The figures didn't stop. They were hemming her in, filling the space, blocking the only way back to the park. The smell of the flowers hit her, overwhelming, thick enough to taste. It was the scent of rotting memories and forgotten promises. A shape detached itself from the main swarm, larger than the rest. It took a step forward, its form resolving into something humanoid but elongated, its limbs too thin, its head tilting at an angle that defied anatomy. The Heartstone screamed in her hand. It grew so bright the room seemed to flash white. For a split second, the thing was illuminated—a skeletal face, a smile too wide, teeth filed to points. It spoke, or rather, it projected a thought directly into her mind. *Little mouse.* The voice sounded like dry leaves skittering on pavement. Aurora didn't freeze, though her instincts screamed at her to run. She wasn't Evan; she wasn't the girl who took the beatings. She was the one who looked for the exit. She slid the pendant around her neck, tucking the chain under her coat, and jammed her thumb against the groove of her left wrist—the small crescent-shaped scar she had from a fall off a bike years ago. It grounded her, a physical memory of pain to keep her lucid. She turned toward the standing stones, not looking back at the creeping horror. She had to cross back. She knew the geography of the pocket dimension. The ring was the perimeter. The shadows moved faster, tripping over themselves, snatching at the hem of her coat. A cold, wet sensation brushed against her ankle. Aurora didn't look down. She stepped over the invisible barrier, her boot crossing the line of the ancient oak. She expected the change, the compression of air. Instead, the world simply… opened. She stumbled, catching herself on the rough bark of a tree. She was back in the park. The air was cold and smelled of exhaust fumes and rain. The purple twilight was fading into deep night. The sound of the city was back—the distant traffic, the sirens wailing in the distance. Aurora stood gasping, her chest heaving, hands shaking. She fumbled with the zipper of her coat, pulling the Heartstone out. It was cooling rapidly, the crimson glow fading back to a dull, steady pulse. She looked at the clearing. The ferns were just ferns. The shadowy shapes were just bushes. But the standing stones stood slightly apart, as if pulled from their circle, half a step into the woods. She took a step toward them, then froze. The Heartstone gave a sharp, intense jolt of heat. Not a pulse. A warning. She looked up. High in the canopy of the ancient oak trees, silhouetted against the moon, something watched her. A single, unblinking eye, reflecting the red light of the pendant. It didn't move. It just looked. Aurora took a slow step backward, keeping her eyes locked on the tree. She turned and walked, walking faster, not looking back until she was through the rusted gate and onto the main road, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.