Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFSWABE7AZCXCX2RYE8FDF

The moonlight filtered through the dense canopy of Richmond Park, casting fractured patterns on the path beneath Aurora's feet. She adjusted the silver chain of her pendant, the crimson gemstone warm against her skin. The Heartstone pulsed faintly, a steady rhythm that quickened as she approached the ancient oak standing stones marking the boundary of the Fae Grove. Her breath misted in the crisp night air, and she shoved her hands deeper into her jacket pockets, the worn leather creaking softly. "Right," she muttered under her breath. "Just grab the thing and get out. Easy. Probably." The standing stones loomed before her, their gnarled surfaces etched with symbols that seemed to twist and writhe when she looked at them too long. Aurora hesitated, her bright blue eyes scanning the shadows between the oaks. The air felt heavier here, charged with an almost electric tension that prickled the back of her neck. She stepped through the threshold, the Heartstone flaring briefly before settling back into its steady glow. The grove was unnaturally still. No rustle of leaves, no distant chirp of crickets—just silence, thick and oppressive. Wildflowers carpeted the ground, their vibrant hues oddly muted in the moonlight. Rory glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see someone—or something—watching her from the shadows. The path behind her was empty, but the feeling of being watched lingered, a cold weight settling in her stomach. She pressed on, her footsteps muffled by the soft earth. The grove was smaller than she remembered, the clearing barely large enough to hold the ancient oak tree at its center. The tree's twisted branches reached skyward, their gnarled forms casting eerie shadows that seemed to stretch and shift as she approached. The Heartstone pulsed again, stronger this time, and Rory felt a faint pull in her chest, as if the pendant were guiding her toward something. "Alright," she whispered, more to herself than anything else. "What am I looking for?" The whispers started softly, barely audible at first. At first, she thought it was the wind, but the air was utterly still. The voices—if they could be called that—were a disjointed murmur, rising and falling in pitch like a conversation just out of earshot. Rory froze, her hand instinctively clutching the pendant. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and she spun around, her heart pounding in her chest. "Who's there?" she called, her voice sharper than she intended. The whispers stopped abruptly, leaving her in a silence so complete it felt deafening. Her pulse roared in her ears, and she exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. "You're imagining things," she muttered under her breath. "Just nerves. Get it together, Rory." She turned back to the oak tree, her resolve hardening. The Heartstone's warmth intensified, its glow casting faint crimson light on the ground at her feet. She knelt, brushing aside a patch of wildflowers to reveal a small, intricately carved wooden box buried beneath the soil. The surface of the box was covered in the same twisting symbols as the standing stones, and Rory hesitated before reaching for it. As her fingers brushed the wood, the whispers returned, louder this time. They sounded closer—too close. Rory yanked her hand back, her breath catching in her throat. The shadows around her seemed to deepen, pooling at the edges of her vision. She scrambled to her feet, clutching the pendant tightly as she scanned the clearing. "Show yourself," she demanded, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. The whispers coalesced into laughter—cold, mocking laughter that echoed through the grove. Rory's stomach dropped, and she took a step back, her boot crunching on the dry leaves. The shadows shifted, and she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She spun around, her heart slamming against her ribs, but there was nothing there. "Okay," she breathed, forcing herself to stay calm. "This is not happening. You’re just tired. You’re imagining this." The laughter intensified, overlapping and distorting until it was a cacophony that made her ears ring. Rory clapped her hands over her ears, stumbling backward as the shadows seemed to close in around her. The Heartstone burned against her skin, its crimson glow flickering wildly. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to focus. "Stop it," she hissed through gritted teeth. "You’re not real." The laughter stopped instantly, replaced by a deafening silence. Rory dared to open her eyes, her hands slowly lowering from her ears. The clearing was empty, the shadows retreating as if they had never been there. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she leaned against the oak tree for support, her legs trembling beneath her. The Heartstone's glow had returned to its steady pulse, its warmth a comforting anchor in the eerie stillness. Rory glanced down at the box, still partially buried in the soil. She crouched cautiously, her fingers trembling as she brushed away the dirt. The symbols on the box seemed to pulse faintly, matching the rhythm of the pendant. She hesitated, then reached for it again. This time, the box came free easily, its surface smooth and cool beneath her fingers. The whispers didn’t return, but the feeling of being watched persisted, a creeping sensation that made her skin crawl. Rory shoved the box into her jacket pocket, her eyes darting around the clearing. She needed to get out of here—now. She turned toward the path, her steps quickening as she made her way back to the standing stones. The whispers started again, softer this time, almost melodic. Rory ignored them, her focus entirely on the boundary ahead. The trees seemed to close in around her, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. She broke into a jog, her boots thudding against the soft earth. The standing stones loomed into view, their ancient forms a welcome sight. Rory didn’t slow down, her breath coming in short gasps as she crossed the threshold. The whispers faded instantly, replaced by the distant chirp of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. She stumbled to a stop, doubling over as she tried to catch her breath. The Heartstone’s warmth subsided, its glow fading back to a faint pulse. Rory straightened, glancing over her shoulder at the grove. The trees stood silent and still, their shadows unmoving. She exhaled shakily, her hand clutching the box in her pocket. "Never again," she muttered, turning her back on the grove. "Next time, someone else can be the errand girl." The path back to Richmond Park stretched ahead, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Rory adjusted her jacket, the box a heavy weight against her side. She glanced down at the pendant, its crimson gemstone flickering faintly. The feeling of being watched lingered, a cold shiver running down her spine. She quickened her pace, her footsteps hurried as she left the grove behind, the whispers—real or imagined—still echoing in her mind.