Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFSS3SKDXSV8VEEAX50HFQ

The darkness of the grove pressed in around Aurora like a physical weight, the ancient oaks looming overhead with branches that seemed to reach for her like skeletal fingers. She'd been here before, but never at night. Never when the shadows pooled so thick between the standing stones that they might as well have been portals to another world. Her footsteps crunched on the carpet of fallen leaves as she made her way toward the center of the clearing. The Heartstone pendant hung heavy against her chest, its crimson surface pulsing with a faint, steady warmth that matched the rhythm of her own heartbeat. She'd been drawn here by its pull, by the insistent tug that had grown stronger with each passing hour until she could no longer ignore it. The grove was supposed to be safe. A sanctuary between worlds, Isolde had called it once, her voice soft with reverence. But tonight, something felt wrong. The air tasted metallic on Aurora's tongue, like old blood or rust, and the usual chorus of night insects had fallen silent, leaving only the whisper of wind through leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. She paused at the edge of the clearing, her breath misting in the cool air. The standing stones rose before her in a rough circle, their surfaces worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain. At their center stood a single ancient oak, its trunk gnarled and twisted, roots snaking across the ground like veins. The pendant grew warmer against her skin, and Aurora took a step forward. Then another. The ground beneath her feet felt spongy, almost alive, and she could have sworn she felt something shift and wriggle just below the surface. "Hello?" Her voice sounded small in the vast darkness, swallowed by the trees. "Is someone there?" No answer came, but the pendant's pulse quickened, its warmth spreading through her chest like liquid fire. Aurora reached up to touch it, her fingers brushing against the cool silver chain. The stone seemed to throb beneath her touch, and for a moment she thought she saw something move within its crimson depths - a flicker of shadow, a flash of light. She took another step forward, then froze. There, at the base of the central oak, something glittered in the moonlight. Glass, perhaps. Or crystal. Aurora moved closer, her heart hammering against her ribs. It was a mirror. An old, ornate thing, its silver backing tarnished with age, its surface cloudy and warped. It leaned against the oak's massive trunk as if someone had placed it there deliberately, and as Aurora approached she could see her own reflection staring back at her - pale-faced, wide-eyed, the Heartstone pendant a splash of crimson at her throat. She reached out to touch the mirror's surface, her fingers hovering just above the glass. The moment they made contact, a jolt ran up her arm, sharp and electric. The reflection rippled like water, and for just an instant, Aurora saw something else looking back at her. Not herself. Not quite. The face was similar - same dark hair, same blue eyes - but there was something wrong about it. The smile was too wide, the eyes too bright, and when it spoke, its voice was a perfect echo of her own, but wrong in a way she couldn't quite place. "Looking for something, Rory?" The words sent ice through her veins. No one called her Rory anymore. Not since... not since Evan. The name was a ghost from a past she'd tried to leave behind, and hearing it now, in this place, made her skin crawl. "Who's there?" She whirled around, searching the darkness, but saw only shadows and trees. When she turned back to the mirror, her own reflection had returned, calm and steady, showing no sign of the other face she'd glimpsed. The pendant burned against her chest, and Aurora realized she was trembling. She should leave. She should run, get out of this place before whatever was happening here could touch her. But the pull of the Heartstone was too strong, drawing her forward like a lodestone. She took a step closer to the mirror, then another. The glass seemed to ripple again, and this time she didn't see another face but something else entirely - a glimpse of a place she'd never been, all twisted trees and bleeding skies. The image lasted only a second before dissolving back into her own reflection, but it was enough to make her stumble backward, her hand flying to her mouth. "What is this place?" she whispered, more to herself than to anything else. The grove had always been a threshold, a place between worlds, but this... this was something else. Something older. Something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and her pulse race in her throat. The pendant's warmth had become almost painful now, and Aurora fumbled at the clasp at the back of her neck, desperate to remove it. But her fingers wouldn't cooperate, clumsy and numb, and when she finally managed to get the chain over her head, the Heartstone remained fixed to her chest as if it had grown there, its crimson surface pulsing with an angry light. "No," she breathed, pressing her hands against the stone, trying to force it away. "No, this isn't happening, this isn't—" A sound cut through the night then, freezing the words in her throat. A laugh. Soft and musical and utterly inhuman, echoing from somewhere among the standing stones. Aurora's head snapped up, her eyes scanning the darkness, but she saw nothing. No one. The laugh came again, closer this time, and with it came the unmistakable scent of flowers - not the wildflowers that grew in the grove, but something else. Something cloying and sweet, like perfume left to rot. Aurora backed away from the mirror, her heart thundering in her ears. The Heartstone burned against her skin, its heat spreading through her body like fever, and she could feel something else now. A presence. Watching. Waiting. She turned to run, but her feet caught on something - a root, perhaps, or maybe nothing at all - and she fell hard, the breath knocked from her lungs. Pain lanced through her palms as she caught herself on the ground, and when she looked down she saw that her hands were wet with something dark and viscous. Blood. Or something like it. The laugh came again, closer still, and this time it was joined by other sounds. Whispers. Footsteps. The rustle of fabric against bark. Aurora pushed herself to her feet, her eyes wide and wild in the darkness, and when she turned back to the mirror she saw them. Figures. Dozens of them, standing among the standing stones, their faces hidden in shadow. They moved with a strange, fluid grace, their forms flickering at the edges like images on an old film reel. And in the center of them all stood the mirror-image of herself, smiling that too-wide smile, her eyes bright with something that wasn't quite madness but something close. "Stay with us, Rory," the reflection said, its voice sweet as poisoned honey. "We've been waiting for you." Aurora screamed then, a raw sound of pure terror, and turned to run. But the grove had changed while she wasn't looking. The standing stones now formed a perfect circle around her, their surfaces glowing with an inner light, and the path she'd taken in had vanished, leaving only unbroken wall of ancient oak. The figures began to move then, flowing between the stones like smoke, their whispers rising to a deafening chorus. Aurora pressed her hands to her ears, her eyes squeezed shut, but she couldn't block them out. Couldn't block out the presence that pressed in on all sides, ancient and hungry and so very, very close. The Heartstone burned against her chest, its heat unbearable now, and Aurora fell to her knees, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The whispers grew louder, the figures closer, and through the haze of pain and terror she heard the mirror-image speak again, its voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. "Welcome home, sister."