Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMR37378MKC8SY4A953KT12

The silence in Richmond Park wasn’t empty; it was thick, humming with a frequency that vibrated in Aurora’s teeth. She adjusted the strap of her delivery bag, shifting the weight to her other shoulder, though she wasn't delivering takeout. Not tonight. The trees here were English oaks, ancient and twisted, their roots lifting like the knuckles of giants reaching up from the soil. But the shadows they cast were wrong. They pooled too deep, too dark, and they refused to connect. "Still blinking," a voice rasped, sounding like dry leaves skittering over tarmac. Aurora stopped. The figure of Nyx stepped out of the trunk of a Great Oak, a shape of living ink that solidified into a tall, broad-shouldered man with glowing violet eyes. He moved with a liquid grace, his form flickering slightly at the edges as if the air itself couldn't quite hold him. "It’s the lighting, not my eyes," Aurora said, her voice steady despite the prickle of sweat at her nape. She checked the compass in her pocket—not a smartphone, a real brass one that had once belonged to her father. The needle spun in frantic circles. "According to that, we’re walking in circles." "It is not the light that blinks, Carter. It is the boundary." Nyx’s head tilted, his expression unreadable, his features half-finished in shadow. "Shadows hate this place. They know what waits on the other side." Aurora tightened her grip on the hilt of the Fae-Forged Blade at her hip. It was cold, the moonsilver hilt burning a sharp contrast against her sweater. Isolde had given it to her with a smile that promised more danger than gold. "Then let’s get it over with. If we’re going to look for this oracle, I want to do it before the restaurant closes and Yu-Fei starts throwing dumplings." They pressed on through a thicket of brambles that seemed to bend instinctively to let them pass. The air grew heavy, heavy enough to drink, thick with the scent of wet earth and something sweeter—sterile, cut jasmine. There it was. The Standing Stones. In the guidebooks, they were just a weathered circle of granite in a secluded corner of the park. Here, they were more like jagged teeth jutting from the earth, worn smooth by something else entirely. The top stones were covered in lichen, but near the base, the moss was the color of fresh blood, and it pulsed. Aurora took a breath, the air tasting of ozone and ozone. She reached out, her fingers brushing the cold granite. The touch was electric, a tiny shock that made her shiver. "The Veil is thin here," she murmured, echoing Nyx. "I can see it." Faint shimmering distortion rippled across the gap between the stones, like heat haze on a highway. It was a disturbance in the air, visible only to her now that she knew what to look for. "Don't step across," Nyx warned, stepping back into the deep, dark space of the tree roots. His silhouette was full again. "If you turn around and don't see the sky, you’ve gone too far." Aurora nodded. She stepped into the gap. It wasn't a step; it was a compression. The distance between the stones vanished instantly. The smell of London petrol and damp pavement vanished, replaced instantly by the scent of blooming wildflowers that filled her lungs like pure oxygen. The grove was a pocket universe. The sunlight here wasn't the amber of the day outside; it was a pale, pearlescent luminescence, as if the sun were a distant, dying star casting a cool glow over everything. The grass was soft, silvery-green, and undulating as if it were breathing. Despite the season—the dead of winter—the wildflowers bloomed in riotous clusters, their petals translucent and shimmering like spun sugar. Aurora took a step, her boot sinking slightly into the turf. She looked down. No footprints. She walked further in, the blade at her hip feeling increasingly out of place, a steel intruder in a world of softness. To her right, a stream bubbled up from the ground, water clear as glass, carrying small, glowing fish that swam upstream. Upstream? That wasn't physically possible, and she knew it. Physics didn't apply here. She looked up. The canopy was higher than any trees in London, the branches weaving a ceiling that was far too high to see the top of. And in the center of the clearing, hovering just above the grass, sat the Seer. Isolde Varga was a vision of muted majesty. Her silver hair flowed around her like liquid mercury, pooling around her waist in the grass. She wore clothes that looked like a tapestry woven from moonlight and shadows. She turned slowly, her pale lavender eyes fixing upon Aurora. The air between them fell silent, a vacuum that sucked the sound of the stream into a distant murmur. "I see the hunger in you," Isolde said. Her voice was soft, melodic, but it didn't seem to come from her throat. It echoed in Aurora's mind. Aurora stepped forward, the strange reality of the grove settling over her. She was a courier, a girl who dealt in immediate consequences. She wasn't built for riddles. "We need answers, Isolde. About the rifts in the Veil. About the Heartstone." Isolde didn't move, but Aurora felt a sensation of being turned inside out. The shadows in the corners of the grove seemed to reach for her, not maliciously, but greedily. "The paths that bend are the paths that break," Isolde whispered, extending a hand. Her fingers were long, translucent. "You carry the weight of a fallen star in your pocket, but you look for answers in the mud." Aurora instinctively reached into her coat pocket and touched the small, rough shape of the Heartstone Pendant. It was warm. It was reacting to the Half-Fae's proximity. "We're running out of time," Aurora said, forcing her voice to remain firm. She looked around the grove, taking in the impossible geometry of the flowers, the silence of the wind that blew through the trees without making a sound. "The Veil is thinning. We saw the shimmer in the stones." "Thin is for those who break," Isolde said. "Deep is for those who drown. You stand on the edge, little human. Your shadow is long, but it has no legs." Aurora watched her own shadow stretch across the grass, lengthening rapidly until it merged with the darkness of the grove's perimeter. It looked like a river of ink. She realized then that Nyx was no longer visible. The shadow was isolated; there was no second shape, no second pair of glowing eyes. She turned to the dark boundary. "Where is he?" "Where all things end," Isolde replied. "Where all things begin." A chill ran down Aurora’s spine that had nothing to do with the weather. The stones behind her were cold now, but the clearing before her felt feverish, oppressive. She looked back at Isolde, who had dissolved slightly, her edges blurring like a candle flame in a draft. "He's not a thing, Isolde. He's my friend." The Seer’s lips curved into a sad smile. "Blood binds us, but shadows bind themselves. Go. The night moves fast, but the moment moves slower." Aurora turned away from the beauty that threatened to swallow her whole. She couldn't stay here; she didn't belong in the land where time was a river that could run backward. She grabbed a handful of wildflowers as she passed, ignoring their soft snap. They crumbled into dust in her palm. Stepping back out of the circle was like stepping out of a deep dive. The cold air of London slapped her face, smelling of exhaust and distant sirens. The dim, artificial light of the streetlamps cut through the trees. Nyx was still there, leaning against the trunk of the tree that had birthed him. He was fully solid again, his violet eyes scanning her face. "You felt it, didn't you?" he asked. Aurora looked at her hand, where the dust from the Fae flowers lingered, turning gray instantly. She shook her hand, flicking it away. "I felt it," she said. She adjusted the strap of her bag, picking up the rhythm of her walk back toward the city. "Let's go. Yu-Fei kills people who mess up the inventory."