AI The air in Richmond Park hung heavy with mist as Aurora Carter stepped off the gravel path. The moonlight cast pale streaks across her face, illuminating her bright blue eyes and catching the silver chain of the Heartstone Pendant around her neck. The pendant pulsed faintly, a warmth against her skin that had drawn her here, though she couldn’t quite say why . She rubbed the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist absently, a nervous habit she’d had since childhood.
The stones rose before her, ancient and weathered, their surfaces etched with symbols she didn’t recognize. The oaks loomed like sentinels , their twisted branches clawing at the sky. Beyond them, the grove beckoned—a clearing bathed in an unnatural glow, where wildflowers bloomed despite the chill of late autumn. Rory hesitated at the boundary, her breath visible in the cold air. She shouldn’t be here. Not at night. Not alone. But the pendant’s warmth had grown insistent, almost urgent, and curiosity had always been her weakness.
She stepped between the stones, the air shifting abruptly as she crossed the threshold. The mist thickened, muffling the sounds of the park until even her footsteps seemed swallowed by the silence . The temperature dropped sharply, and Rory pulled her jacket tighter, the fabric skimming over her shoulder-length black hair. The wildflowers swayed gently, though there was no wind, their petals unnaturally vibrant in the moonlight.
A rustle came from the shadows to her left. Rory froze, her gaze darting toward the sound. Nothing moved, but the feeling of being watched prickled at the back of her neck. She shook it off, chiding herself. Just the wind, she thought, though she knew better. There was no wind here.
The pendant’s warmth flared suddenly , its crimson gemstone glowing faintly. Rory touched it instinctively, the pulse steady against her fingertips. She stepped deeper into the grove, her eyes scanning the trees for movement. The shadows seemed to shift as she walked, flickering at the edges of her vision. She paused, her breath catching, and stared harder. Nothing. Just the trees and the flowers.
A whisper brushed past her ear, so faint she might have imagined it. She turned sharply, her heart pounding . The clearing was empty, but the whisper came again, a word she couldn’t quite make out . Her chest tightened, and she forced herself to keep moving, her steps deliberate now. The pendant’s warmth grew hotter, almost uncomfortable, and she resisted the urge to pull it off.
The grove stretched on, impossibly vast, the trees seeming to close in behind her. She glanced back, but the path was gone , swallowed by shadows. Her pulse quickened . She hadn’t walked that far. The rational part of her brain screamed to turn back, but her feet kept moving, drawn by something she couldn’t name.
A low hum filled the air, vibrating through her bones. Rory stopped, her hands clenched at her sides. The sound was everywhere and nowhere, a steady thrum that made her skin crawl. She thought of Silas’s bar, the faint buzz of neon lights and the comforting clink of glasses. This was nothing like that. This was alive, a living sound that seemed to pulse in time with the pendant .
“Hello?” she called, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. The grove swallowed the word, leaving only silence . She swallowed hard, her throat dry, and took another step forward.
The whisper came again, louder this time. “Laila.”
She froze, her blood turning to ice. No one had called her that name in years—not since her father had slipped it into her bedtime stories, a private joke between them. She hadn’t thought of it in ages. The pendant flared brighter, its glow casting faint shadows on the ground. She stared at the trees ahead, her breaths shallow.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice steadier than she felt. The grove gave no answer. The air grew colder still, her breath frosting in front of her face. She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the shadows. The trees seemed closer now, their branches twisting unnaturally . She blinked, and for a moment, she thought she saw figures moving between them—tall and slender, their forms flickering like smoke. When she looked again, they were gone .
The hum deepened, resonating in her chest. She pressed a hand to her sternum, the pendant burning against her skin. Her legs trembled , but she forced herself to stay rooted, her mind racing . Think, Rory. Out of the box. Always out of the box.
The whisper came again, closer this time. “Laila.”
She spun toward the sound, her heart hammering. “Stop it!” she shouted, her voice echoing strangely in the grove . The silence that followed was deafening , the hum cutting off abruptly. The pendant’s warmth faded, leaving her skin cold and clammy. She gripped it tightly , her knuckles white.
Movement caught her eye—a flicker of light in the distance. She squinted, her pulse quickening. The light was faint, but it wasn’t moonlight. It was warm, golden, and it beckoned to her like a beacon . She hesitated, her instinct screaming to run, but her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her toward the light.
The shadows thickened as she walked, the trees closing in around her. The whispers returned, soft and urgent, but she couldn’t make out the words. Her breath came in short gasps, the air growing thinner. The pendant remained cold against her chest, its glow extinguished. She clutched it anyway, a lifeline in the suffocating darkness.
The light grew brighter, revealing a figure standing in the center of the clearing. Rory stopped dead, her blood running cold. The figure was tall and impossibly slender, its features blurred as though seen through a haze. It turned toward her, and she felt its gaze like a physical weight , pressing down on her chest.
“You shouldn’t be here,” it said, its voice echoing with a resonance that made her ears ache. Its words were English, but they carried an accent she couldn’t place—something ancient and otherworldly .
Rory opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Her throat tightened, her lungs burning for air. The figure stepped closer, its movements smooth and unnerving. She tried to back away, but her legs wouldn’t obey. The whispers grew louder, a cacophony of voices she couldn’t understand.
The figure reached out, its hand hovering inches from her face. The pendant flared suddenly , its warmth returning in a rush. The figure recoiled, its form flickering like a damaged film. The shadows around them seemed to shudder, the grove itself recoiling from the pendant’s light.
Rory stumbled back, her legs finally responding. The whispers turned to screams, the hum returning with a deafening intensity . She turned and ran, her feet pounding against the ground. The trees blurred past her, their branches clawing at her jacket. She didn’t look back, didn’t stop, until she burst through the standing stones and into the park beyond.
The mist cleared abruptly, the sounds of the city returning in a rush. Rory collapsed against a tree, her chest heaving, the pendant pulsing steadily against her skin. She clutched it tightly , its warmth grounding her. The grove loomed behind her, silent and still, its secrets hidden once more.
She exhaled shakily, her hands trembling. Whatever had drawn her here, she wasn’t ready to face it. Not yet. She straightened slowly , her legs still unsteady, and turned toward the path that led back to Silas’s bar. The grove watched her go, its shadows shifting faintly in the moonlight.