Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMWZKMTGDZN4X4VB6YH6TQQ

The ancient oak standing stones loomed against the night sky like arthritic fingers, their bark scarred by centuries of wind and weather. Aurora pulled her jacket tighter as she stepped between them, the familiar weight of the Heartstone pendant warm against her chest. The silver chain felt cold where it touched her throat. She shouldn't be here. Not at half past midnight, not alone, and certainly not without telling anyone where she'd gone. But the dreams had been getting worse—visions of this place, of something waiting for her in the grove beyond the stone circle. The pendant had grown warm each time she'd woken, its deep crimson surface pulsing like a second heartbeat. The boundary between the standing stones felt different tonight. Usually, crossing into Isolde's grove was like stepping through cool water, a gentle transition that left her skin tingling. This time, the air seemed to resist her passage, thick and cloying like honey. She pushed through, emerging into the familiar clearing where wildflowers bloomed in defiance of the October chill. But something was wrong. The flowers that should have glowed with their own soft light lay flat against the earth, their petals black in the moonlight. The sweet fragrance she remembered had soured, carrying an undertone of decay that made her stomach clench. Even the ancient oak at the grove's heart looked different—its trunk scarred, its branches reaching toward the sky like desperate, grasping hands. Aurora's breath misted in the suddenly frigid air. This wasn't how time usually behaved here. In all her previous visits, the grove had maintained its own seasonal rhythm, eternal spring trapped in a pocket between realms. The cold felt invasive, wrong, as if winter had followed her through the boundary stones. She took a tentative step forward, dead flowers crunching beneath her boots. The sound seemed too loud in the oppressive silence. No insects hummed, no night birds called. Even the wind had stilled, leaving only the faint whisper of her own breathing. The pendant pulsed again, warmer now, and Aurora pressed her palm against it through her jacket. Whatever had drawn her here was close. She could feel it like static electricity before a storm, raising the fine hairs on her arms. A branch cracked somewhere behind her. Aurora spun around, scanning the tree line that bordered the clearing. Nothing moved among the shadows, but her pulse quickened anyway. She'd been alone when she entered the grove—she was certain of it. The standing stones would have warned her if someone else had been near. Another sound, softer this time. Like footsteps on carpet, or bare feet on grass. But there was no grass here anymore, only the withered remains of what had once been beautiful. "Hello?" Her voice came out smaller than she'd intended. The word seemed to die just a few feet from her lips, swallowed by the unnatural quiet. No answer. But now she could hear breathing that wasn't her own—slow, deliberate, coming from multiple directions at once. As if she'd wandered into the center of a circle of watchers. The pendant was burning hot now, its crimson glow visible through her jacket. Aurora pulled it free, letting it hang in the open air. Its light cast strange shadows among the dead flowers, shadows that seemed to move independently of the gentle swaying of the chain. That was when she saw them. At first, just glimpses at the edge of her vision—pale shapes that vanished when she turned to look directly at them. But as her eyes adjusted to the pendant's glow, she began to make out details. Figures standing motionless among the trees. Tall, impossibly thin, with faces that were almost human but not quite right. Too many angles, too much symmetry, features that hurt to look at directly. They weren't moving, but somehow they seemed closer than they'd been a moment before. Aurora took a step backward, toward the standing stones. The figures didn't react, but she could feel their attention like cold breath on her neck. The pendant's warmth was the only thing keeping her from shivering apart. Her heel caught on something—a root, or maybe a stone hidden among the dead flowers. She stumbled, catching herself with her free hand against the rough bark of the central oak. The moment her skin touched the tree, images flooded her mind. The grove as it had been—green and alive, filled with Isolde's laughter. Then darkness spreading like spilled ink, flowers withering, the very air growing thick with wrongness. And standing at the center of it all, a figure in flowing robes, arms raised toward a sky that had torn open like old fabric. Aurora jerked her hand away from the tree, gasping. The vision faded, but the taste of copper and ozone lingered in her mouth. Whatever had happened here, it had been recent. The grove was wounded, maybe dying. The figures among the trees had moved closer. She could see them clearly now—their skin like moonlight on water, their eyes deep pits that reflected her pendant's glow. They watched her with the patient hunger of predators who knew their prey was trapped. But Aurora wasn't trapped. Not yet. She closed her fist around the pendant, feeling its heat sear her palm. The pain was grounding, real, cutting through the dreamlike horror of her surroundings. She was Aurora Carter. She had walked between worlds before and survived. Whatever these things were, whatever had poisoned the grove, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her panic. The crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist began to itch, the way it always did when she was afraid. But fear could be useful. Fear kept you alive when rational thought failed. One of the figures stepped forward, into the pendant's circle of light. Up close, Aurora could see that what she'd taken for robes were actually its own elongated limbs, stretched and twisted into flowing shapes. When it spoke, its voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once. "You carry light in the darkness," it said, the words sliding through her mind like ice water. "We have been waiting for you to return it to us." Aurora backed toward the standing stones, her movements slow and deliberate. "I don't know what you're talking about." "The stone remembers," the thing said, gesturing toward her pendant with a limb that bent in too many directions. "It has tasted our realm. It belongs with us now." The other figures began to move, closing the circle. Their footsteps made no sound, but Aurora could feel the earth trembling beneath their weight. The pendant's glow flickered, its warmth fading. She was three steps from the boundary stones when she understood. The pendant wasn't just reacting to whatever had corrupted the grove—it was connected to it. The warmth she'd been feeling wasn't protection. It was recognition. These things weren't trapped in the grove. They were trying to get out. And she'd brought them exactly what they needed.