Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNETGZ0WE6H230NA2FW53C9

The moon hung heavy and swollen above Richmond Park, casting an eerie silver glow across the frost-covered grass. Aurora pulled her coat tighter around herself, breath misting in the frigid air as she navigated the winding paths. The Heartstone pendant felt heavy against her chest, pulsing with a faint warmth that seemed to grow stronger with each step. She shouldn't be here. Not alone, not at this hour. But the dreams had been getting worse—nightmares of twisted trees and shadows that moved with malevolent intent. And then there was the message, scrawled across her bathroom mirror in what looked disturbingly like dried blood: "Come to the grove." The standing stones loomed ahead, ancient oaks twisted into unnatural shapes. Rory paused at the boundary, heart hammering against her ribs. The pendant grew warmer, almost hot against her skin. With a deep breath, she stepped across the threshold. The air changed immediately—thick and heavy, carrying the scent of wildflowers blooming in defiance of winter. The temperature rose several degrees, making her skin prickle with sweat beneath her coat. Rory pulled it off, draping it over her arm as she ventured deeper into the grove. Something rustled in the underbrush to her left. She froze, eyes straining against the darkness. A fox darted across her path, pausing to look at her with intelligent, almost human eyes before vanishing into the trees. "Just a fox," Rory muttered to herself, but the words sounded hollow in the unnatural quiet. She pressed on, following a path that seemed to materialize beneath her feet. The pendant's glow intensified, casting crimson shadows that danced and writhed across the ground. Rory's pulse quickened. She was close to something—something important. A twig snapped behind her. Rory whirled around, heart leaping into her throat. Nothing. Just trees and shadows and that suffocating silence. She turned back— —and nearly screamed. A figure stood before her, pale and ethereal in the moonlight. It was a woman, or something that had once been a woman. Her skin was translucent, stretched too tightly over angular bones. Long, dark hair hung in matted tangles around her shoulders. Rory's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a cry. The apparition tilted its head, empty eye sockets fixing on Rory with unnerving intensity. A voice, dry and brittle as autumn leaves, whispered through the grove: "Why have you come?" "I..." Rory's voice cracked. She swallowed hard, trying to find her courage. "I was drawn here. By dreams, by... by this." She held up the pendant, its crimson glow illuminating the wraith's skeletal features. The spirit's lipless mouth stretched into something that might have been a smile once. "The Heartstone. Dymas' last gift to the world of men." It drifted closer, movements jerky and unnatural. "You seek answers, child. But some truths are better left buried." "I need to know," Rory insisted, though her legs trembled with the urge to run. "About the shadows. About what's happening to me." The wraith's form flickered, like a candle flame in a draft. "You've been chosen, Aurora Carter. Marked by powers older than your world." It reached out with a hand that was more bone than flesh, skeletal fingers hovering just above the pendant. "The veil grows thin. Soon, they will come through." "Who? Who will come through?" Rory demanded, taking a step back as the spirit's touch neared her chest. A sound like shattering glass echoed through the grove. The wraith's head snapped up, empty sockets widening in what might have been fear. "Run," it hissed, voice rising to a shriek. "Run now, before—" The rest of the sentence dissolved into a wet, gurgling noise. The spirit's form began to unravel, skin peeling away like burning paper to reveal writhing darkness beneath. Rory stumbled backward, tripping over her own feet as she scrambled away. Something was coming. She could feel it in the air—a pressure building, a wrongness that made her skin crawl and her stomach turn. The pendant burned against her chest, searing hot now, and she tore it from her neck, letting it fall to the ground. A shadow detached itself from the treeline, resolving into a figure that was too tall, too thin to be human. Its limbs bent at wrong angles, joints cracking with each jerky movement. Where its face should have been, there was only a smooth expanse of pale flesh. Rory's scream caught in her throat. She turned to run, but her feet caught in the undergrowth. She fell hard, breath knocked from her lungs as she hit the frozen ground. Desperately, she scrabbled backward on hands and feet, eyes fixed on the approaching horror. The creature moved with a strange, fluid grace, limbs undulating like tentacles. It reached for her with elongated fingers, skin splitting to reveal glistening darkness beneath. Rory's back hit something solid—one of the standing stones. She was trapped. The wraith's voice echoed in her mind, dry and desperate: "The pendant! Use the pendant!" With a shaking hand, Rory snatched up the Heartstone. It burned in her palm, hot enough to blister, but she clenched her fingers around it and thrust it toward the creature. Crimson light exploded outward, illuminating the grove in stark relief. The creature shrieked—a sound that was more felt than heard, vibrating in Rory's bones. It recoiled, limbs thrashing as the light seared its pale flesh. Rory didn't hesitate. She scrambled to her feet and ran, the Heartstone clutched to her chest like a talisman. Behind her, the creature's cries rose in pitch, becoming something almost human in their agony. She burst from the treeline, gasping for breath as the normal sounds of the park rushed back in—distant traffic, the hoot of an owl, the rustle of nocturnal creatures in the underbrush. Rory didn't stop running until she reached the safety of her flat, slamming the door behind her and sliding to the floor. Her hands shook as she pressed them to her face, trying to scrub away the image of that pale, faceless horror. The Heartstone lay on the floor beside her, its crimson glow now dimmed to a faint pulse. Rory reached for it with trembling fingers, closing her hand around the warm metal. Whatever had happened in that grove, whatever she had stumbled into—it was only the beginning. The shadows were coming, and she was their target. She just prayed she'd be ready when they finally arrived.