Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNETYCB2D774SSYH5BHM6M2

The moon hung heavy and swollen above Richmond Park, casting everything in an eerie silver glow. Rory pulled her coat tighter around herself as she made her way through the winding paths, the crunch of gravel beneath her boots unnaturally loud in the stillness of the night. She shouldn't be here. The park was closed after dark, and even if it hadn't been, this particular grove was hidden from ordinary eyes. But something had drawn her here, a tugging at her chest that had grown stronger with each passing day until she could ignore it no longer. The Heartstone pendant hung heavy against her skin, pulsing with a faint warmth that seemed to guide her steps. She'd found it in her mailbox three weeks ago, no return address, just her name scrawled across the front in a looping script she didn't recognize. When she'd touched it, a voice had whispered in her mind - not words exactly, but a feeling, an urgency that she couldn't quite understand. Now, as she pushed through the underbrush and into the clearing, she understood why. The grove was beautiful in a wild, untamed way. Ancient oaks stood sentinel around the perimeter, their branches reaching toward the sky like gnarled fingers. Wildflowers bloomed in vibrant patches, their colors intensified by the moonlight. And in the center, a ring of standing stones stood tall and proud, their surfaces etched with symbols she couldn't quite make out. But there was something else here too. A wrongness that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and her skin prickle with unease. It was as if the very air was charged with electricity, humming with a tension that made her want to turn and run. Rory took a step forward, then another, her eyes scanning the clearing for any sign of movement. The pendant grew warmer against her skin, pulsing in time with her racing heart. She reached up to touch it, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of the chain. That's when she heard it. A whisper, soft and sibilant, coming from the direction of the standing stones. She froze, her breath catching in her throat as she strained to make out the words. "...come to me..." The voice was feminine, melodic, and yet there was something about it that set Rory's teeth on edge. It was too perfect, too smooth, like a recording played back at the wrong speed. "Who's there?" she called out, her voice sounding small and fragile in the vastness of the clearing. No answer. Just the whisper, growing louder, more insistent. "...come to me..." Rory took a step back, her mind racing. She should leave. This was a mistake. But the pendant seemed to have a will of its own, tugging her forward, urging her to move closer to the source of the voice. She reached the edge of the standing stones and paused, her hand hovering over the nearest one. The symbols etched into its surface seemed to shift and change in the moonlight, forming patterns that hurt her eyes to look at directly. "...come to me..." The whisper was right behind her now, so close she could feel the warmth of breath on the back of her neck. She whirled around, her heart in her throat, but there was nothing there. Just the empty clearing and the oppressive silence. Rory's mind raced as she tried to make sense of what was happening. She was alone in a strange place, being called by a voice she couldn't see. It was the stuff of nightmares, the kind of thing that happened in horror movies, not in real life. But the pendant was still warm against her skin, still pulsing with that same urgency. And deep down, in a place she didn't want to acknowledge, she knew that she couldn't leave. Not yet. Not until she found out what was calling to her. With a deep breath, Rory stepped into the center of the standing stones. The moment she crossed the threshold, the world seemed to shift around her. The air grew thick and heavy, pressing against her skin like a physical weight. The colors of the clearing bled together, swirling and twisting until they formed a kaleidoscope of impossible hues. And then the whispers came. Not just one voice now, but dozens, hundreds, a cacophony of sound that filled her mind and drowned out all thought. They spoke in languages she didn't understand, in words that hurt to hear, in tones that scraped against her sanity like nails on a chalkboard. Rory fell to her knees, her hands clamped over her ears as she tried to block out the sound. But it was no use. The whispers were inside her now, echoing in the chambers of her mind, filling her with a terror she had never known before. She looked up, her eyes wide with horror, and saw that the standing stones were no longer standing. They had come alive, their surfaces rippling and flowing like liquid stone. Faces formed in the rock, twisted and grotesque, mouths open in silent screams. And in the center of it all, a figure began to take shape. It was tall and thin, with skin the color of bleached bone and eyes that glowed with an inner fire. Its limbs were too long, its fingers ending in sharp, jagged claws. And its mouth, when it opened to speak, was filled with rows of needle-like teeth. "Welcome, little one," it said, its voice a chorus of a thousand whispers. "We have been waiting for you." Rory tried to scream, but no sound came out. She tried to move, to run, but her body wouldn't obey. She was frozen, trapped in a nightmare from which there was no waking. The creature took a step toward her, its movements jerky and unnatural. "You have something that belongs to us," it said, its voice dripping with malice. "Give it to us, and we will let you go." Rory's hand went to her chest, to the pendant that hung there. It was hot now, burning against her skin like a brand. She could feel it pulsing, could feel the power that lay dormant within it. "No," she whispered, the word barely audible over the whispers that filled her mind. "It's mine. You can't have it." The creature's eyes narrowed, and it took another step forward. "You do not understand," it said, its voice a hiss. "That pendant is not yours to keep. It belongs to us, to the ones who dwell in the spaces between. And we will have it, one way or another." Rory felt a surge of defiance rise up within her, fueled by the pendant's warmth. She stood, her legs shaking but her resolve firm. "I won't let you take it," she said, her voice stronger now. "I won't let you have it." The creature laughed, a sound like shattering glass. "Foolish child," it said. "You cannot stop us. We are eternal, unchanging. We are the darkness that lurks at the edges of your mind, the whispers that haunt your dreams. And we will have what is ours." With a roar, the creature lunged forward, its claws outstretched. Rory raised her hands to defend herself, but it was too late. The claws raked across her skin, tearing through flesh and bone with ease. She fell to the ground, her vision blurring as the pain overwhelmed her. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, filling her mind with a terror she had never known before. And through it all, the pendant burned against her skin, a beacon of light in the darkness. Rory closed her eyes, surrendering to the pain, to the fear, to the madness that threatened to consume her. And as she did, she felt something shift inside her, a change that went beyond the physical. It was as if a part of her had been unlocked, a part that had been waiting for this moment, for this confrontation. She opened her eyes, and they were no longer her own. They glowed with an inner fire, the same fire that burned in the creature's eyes. And as she rose to her feet, she knew that she was no longer alone. The pendant had chosen her, had given her the strength to fight back. And fight back she would, with everything she had. For she was Rory, and she would not be broken. Not by this creature, not by the whispers, not by the darkness that threatened to consume her. She was a force to be reckoned with, and she would not be defeated. With a roar of her own, Rory charged forward, her hands outstretched, her eyes blazing with a fire that could not be quenched. And as she did, she knew that this was only the beginning. The battle for her soul had just begun.