Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMRAPM449FRYQ90H1X87EJC

The woods pressed in around her like an unspoken threat. Aurora’s breath clouded in the chill air, the faint glow of her phone screen flickering as she checked her fading map. The ancient oak standing stones loomed ahead, their gnarled silhouettes dark and indistinct against the night sky. She had come here hoping for answers, some fragment of clarity amid the chaos of her life, but the place felt different—wrong in a way she couldn’t quite pin down. The silence was thick—unnatural, like a heavy curtain draped over the woods. Even the wind had subsided, leaving only a faint rustling from unseen motion. She shifted the strap of her satchel, fingers brushing against the Heartstone Pendant resting beneath her sweater, cold and firm against her chest. Its faint pulse, a warm, faint glow, was comforting, yet even that warmth felt distant tonight. A subtle sensation prickled at the back of her neck, like the flicker of something watching. She told herself it was her imagination, that after all, she’d always been prone to overthinking—especially since fleeing Cardiff. But tonight, her instincts refused to quiet. The standing stones emerged shadowy and tangled with moss, jagged shapes in the darkness. She hesitated, then stepped forward, the damp earth squelching beneath her boots. Just as she reached out to touch one, a faint flicker of movement flickered at the edge of her vision—a shift, a whisper of something slipping just beyond her line of sight. She spun around, heart pounding. Nothing. Just the dense, silent woods, alive only with the faint echoes of her own breathing. Still, the feeling persisted—an odd, prickling sense that she was being watched. A sudden, sharp crack broke the silence behind her. She froze, head turning instinctively, eyes darting through the shadows. Nothing. But the sound lingered—the brittle snap, like a branch breaking under a careless footstep. She tightened her grip on the pendant, throat dry. Light footsteps. No—just her own breathing echoing in her ears. She told herself to stay calm. Sometimes, it was the unknown sounds that unsettled the mind—nothing more. Yet her gaze darted toward the trees, uncertain. Then she saw it—something just beyond the reach of her vision, a flicker of movement too quick, too subtle to describe. As if someone—something—was sliding just out of sight, always just out of the corner of her eye. She clenched her jaw and moved closer to the standing stones, the ancient oak’s knotted limbs seeming more menacing with every passing second. Her fingers brushed the rough bark as the shadows shifted again. Something brushed past her peripheral vision—a dark shape, too fluid, too deliberate. A shiver crawled up her spine, and she fought the instinct to turn away entirely. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to breathe, to ground herself. “Stop,” she whispered aloud, voice barely more than a breath. “This isn’t real.” The woods responded with silence, save for the faintest whisper of wind, rustling the leaves again. She looked down—nothing but a scattered bed of wildflowers that bloomed stubbornly despite the season. Her eyes returned to the stones. They seemed to hum with an almost imperceptible vibration, as if the very fabric of reality had twisted here. A tiny shift—movement—caught her eye. Her gaze snapped to a patch of darkness at the corner of the clearing. Something was there, uncoiling like mist, slow and deliberate. No—more like a shadow, a stain on the night that refused to sit still. Her breath hitched. Deep inside her, a prickling awareness blossomed, crawling with the certainty that whatever was lurking was aware of her, too. Watching her. The faint pulse of the Heartstone under her shirt grew warmer, softer, as if responding to some unseen signal. She felt her pulse quicken—fear gnawing at the edges of her mind. She took a tentative step back, only to freeze—her eyes catching a flicker of movement beneath the larger oak. Not a branch—something darker, moving with unnatural, sinewy grace. The shadows seemed to stretch and fold in ways they shouldn’t, twisting into shapes that defied natural logic. A whispering sound, like a breath soft and stale, drifted through the trees. She pinched her eyes shut for a second, trying to dismiss it, but it seeped in—low, close, almost breathless. The woods were alive with things she couldn’t see but sensed deeply. Something slow and deliberate was circling her, just outside the perimeter of her vision. Her skin prickled with that cold, prickling dread. She clenched her fists, lungs absorbing shaky breaths, and tried to tell herself this was just the effects of the dark, the unfamiliar place, her racing mind. But the faint glow of the pendant in her vision told her otherwise—something here responded, something waiting. A shift behind her—someone—something—was right there. She spun around desperately, half-expecting confrontation, an explanation, but there was only empty space. Stillness. Too still. Her eyes darted left and right, scanning the shadows, her mind racing with unspoken fears. The woods had never felt so alive, yet utterly silent—all the noises of the forest hushed save for her own ragged breathing. The faint glow from the Heartstone Pulsed a little stronger, as if it recognized the darkness, feeding on the presence of something unnatural. The stone’s faint glow renewed her resolve, but she knew—knew—it was an illusion. A trap. She was not alone. Somewhere deep within, she knew the truth. The woods weren’t just waiting—they were watching—and they had been waiting for someone like her to arrive. To be lured into this silent, suffocating grasp of shadows and whispers. And as the darkness thickened, a new sensation prickled at her skin—a cold, heavy presence pressing against her mind, whispering softly yet insistently. Words she couldn’t hear, promises she knew were lies. Her heart hammered louder, every instinct screaming for her to run, to escape what lurked just beyond the veil of her sight. But her feet stayed rooted in the damp earth. Because she knew—somewhere in the depths of her mind—that whatever was here, it wasn’t just watching. It was waiting. And it was hungry.