Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMRCA0JZNRTTFZ2A4H54A4S

The night hung thick over Richmond Park, a heavy silence pressed tight against the trees. Aurora Carter moved softly through the shadows, her footsteps muffled by damp grass still cool from the evening rain. Her breath came in shallow puffs, each exhale curling into the cold air like ghostly breath clouds. She clutched the Heartstone Pendant beneath her jacket, feeling the faint, reassuring pulse of warmth from the crimson gem, a silent rhythm that answered her anxious heartbeat. She had come here for a reason—something about the Grove called to her, a whisper she couldn’t ignore. She’d heard the stories, seen the glimpses in flickering dreams: the boundary where Earth and the Fae realm blurred. Tonight, she wanted answers. But from the moment she stepped beyond the ancient oak standing stones, everything had felt wrong. It started with the quiet. A whisper of movement echoing through the trees, just on the edge of hearing. She paused, ears strained, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The rustling of leaves sounded unnatural—too slow, too deliberate. Was it just her nerves? Or was something watching her? She tightened her grip on the Heartstone, the faint glow flickering softly against her palm. The pendant's heartbeat-like warmth steadied her, but the air grew colder, portentous. The moon was covered by thick clouds, casting the grove into a disorienting blackness. Shadows stretched unnaturally, merging at the edges of her vision, slipping away whenever she dared to look directly at them. Her boots sank slightly into the muddy path, the silence broken only by her cautious steps and the distant, almost imperceptible creak of the standing stones—like they’d shifted slightly, just enough to be unsettling. She cursed herself for not bringing a flashlight, but in her rush to get here, her phone’s battery had died. Now, she was caught in this unnatural dark, the weight of the unknown pressing against her. A sudden shift in the atmosphere prickled her skin. The faintest sound—a whisper—drifted from behind her, too soft to distinguish words. She froze, her breath hitching. She spun around sharply, eyes darting through the gloom, but saw only the darkness swallowing her outline. The whispering persisted, low and unintelligible, seeping into her mind like cold ink. She instinctively pressed her back to the ancient oak, her fingers clutching the pendant tighter as she peered into the blackness. That’s when she saw it—movement, just at the edge of her vision. Not a branch swaying, not an animal rustling—but something else, something wrong. A flicker of shadow that was wrong somehow, too angular, too stiff, like a silhouette that refused to behave naturally. Her mind raced. The stories about this place—about the Fae—lingered behind her eyes, and she wondered if this was what they meant. That the boundary was fragile, that something was slipping through. She inhaled sharply, heart pounding louder, more insistent. A noise—a dull scraping—rattled through the air nearby, too close, yet not quite close enough to pinpoint. Her stomach tightened. She dared another glance around, but the darkness fought her, shifting, refusing to settle. Then the air seemed to hum, a faint vibration that jangled her nerves. She looked down sharply at her hands—cold, trembling. The pendant’s glow pulsed again, and she felt a brief flicker of warmth amid the chill. Maybe it was just her imagination. Maybe it was the wind playing tricks. But the instinct—one she couldn’t ignore—screamed at her that she was not alone. A breath of wind brought a faint, sickly sweet scent—not floral, not earthy. Something unnatural. Her nose wrinkled involuntarily. She whispered her breathless command into the darkness, voice trembling, “Show yourself.” Silence. But then, a whisper returned, closer now—inside her own mind, or so it felt. A voice, muffled and discordant, laughing softly, cruelly. Not threatening, not yet, but enough to steal her breath. She pressed her back harder against the tree, her eyes darting about, scanning for movement, any sign of life, any hint of the shape always lurking at the corner of her vision. The shadow flickered again, more distinctly—just for a heartbeat—resembling a figure, a tall outline that was impossible to define. Her eyes widened, but she stayed still, fighting the instinct to run. Instead, she nodded to herself—daring to tighten her grip on the Heartstone. Its faint glow was a small anchor against the creeping dread. An unnatural silence settled again, thick enough to squeeze the air from her lungs. Then, from somewhere deep within the Grove, she heard it—soft, distant at first, but growing insistent: a whisper, a whisper that she couldn’t quite make sense of, yet felt in her bones. It shifted, from intelligible speech to guttural sounds, like voices caught in some eternal, tormenting loop. Her pulse hammered louder, each beat echoing through her ears. She told herself to stay calm, to think. This was what she wanted—answers or not, she had to understand. Slowly, deliberate steps took her away from the oak, toward the faint glow of the pendant as if it could pierce through the darkness and illuminate what lurked just beyond understanding. A flicker of movement—something at her periphery—made her freeze. She turned her head, eyes narrowing, but only shadows answered her. Then, something brushed her wrist, cold as death, just a gentle touch—gone before she could even react. Her breath hitched, her body frozen in place by terror. The whispering grew louder—a chorus of incoherent voices, converging on her, wrapping her in a choking silence. The heart of the Grove was alive, and the darkness looked back at her with otherworldly hunger. She knew the boundary was weak; she knew that something was waiting on the other side, eager to step through. And maybe, just maybe, she had already given it too much attention by coming here.