Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFAFAGA5K8SJ2DSN5WDYQF

The air in Richmond Park smelled different after dark—damp earth and something faintly metallic beneath the usual green scent of grass and leaves. Aurora Carter pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders as she stepped off the paved path, her sneakers crunching over twigs and dry leaves. The beam of her phone flashlight cut a shaky path ahead, illuminating patches of gnarled roots and the occasional glint of eyes—foxes, probably, or maybe just her imagination. She shouldn’t be here. Not at night. Not alone. But the pendant around her neck had pulsed insistently all evening, a slow, rhythmic warmth against her collarbone, and she’d learned by now not to ignore it. The Heartstone had led her to strange places before—abandoned warehouses, half-collapsed churches, the odd alleyway that smelled of ozone—but never somewhere this… open. This quiet. A breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the faintest hint of wildflowers. That wasn’t right. It was October; nothing should be blooming. Aurora slowed as the first of the standing stones came into view—ancient oaks, their trunks twisted into unnatural angles, forming a rough circle just beyond the treeline. The Fae Grove. She’d heard the name in passing from Silas, muttered between pints like a warning. *Don’t go looking for it, Rory. Not unless you’re ready to lose a few hours—or a few years.* Her pulse kicked up. The pendant throbbed in response. She stepped between two of the stones. The air changed instantly—thicker, heavier, like walking through syrup. The sounds of the park vanished, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the rustle of leaves that didn’t quite sound like leaves. Aurora’s breath fogged in front of her, though the night wasn’t that cold. And the flowers. They carpeted the clearing in impossible colors—petals so deep violet they looked black, stems that shimmered like oil on water. They shouldn’t exist. Not here. Not on Earth. Aurora swallowed hard and took another step forward. The pendant’s warmth spread, almost uncomfortable now, like holding a lit match too close to skin. She reached up to touch it, half-expecting to find it burning, but the metal was cool. Then she heard it. A whisper. Not words—not quite—just a breath of sound, too deliberate to be the wind. Her head snapped toward the source, flashlight beam swinging wildly. Nothing. Just shadows and those impossible flowers. *You’re imagining things.* She forced herself to exhale. To think. The pendant had brought her here for a reason. Maybe there was a Hel portal nearby, one of those ragged tears between worlds that let things slip through. Maybe— Another whisper. Closer this time. Aurora went still. The back of her neck prickled. She wasn’t alone. Slowly, she turned. The flowers swayed, though there was no breeze. Between them, something glinted—a pair of eyes, reflecting her flashlight like a cat’s. But they were too high off the ground. Too still. Her throat tightened. The eyes blinked. Then they were gone. Aurora’s breath came fast now, her fingers tightening around her phone. *Move. Just move.* But her legs refused to obey. The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating, until— A twig snapped behind her. She whirled, heart hammering. The flashlight beam caught the edge of something—a shape, tall and too thin, slipping behind one of the standing stones. The glimpse lasted less than a second, but it was enough. Long limbs. Skin that wasn’t quite skin. The pendant burned against her chest. Aurora stumbled back, her heel catching on a root. She barely registered the pain as she hit the ground, too focused on the space between the trees where the thing had been. Where it *wasn’t* anymore. A laugh echoed through the grove—soft, melodic, and utterly wrong. It came from everywhere and nowhere, skittering down her spine like ice. *Run.* She scrambled to her feet, pulse roaring in her ears. The flowers rustled as she bolted, their stems tangling around her ankles like grasping fingers. The standing stones loomed ahead, their twisted forms suddenly sinister. Something moved in her periphery. Aurora didn’t look. She couldn’t. If she looked, she’d see it. And if she saw it— The laugh came again, closer. She burst through the stone circle, the air snapping back to normal with an almost audible *pop*. The sounds of the park rushed in—distant traffic, the cry of a night bird, her own ragged breathing. She didn’t stop running until her lungs burned and the pendant had cooled to a dull, lifeless weight against her skin. Only then did she glance back. The grove was gone. Just trees. Just shadows. But as she turned away, something fluttered to the ground from her jacket—a single violet petal, black at the edges, already crumbling to dust.