Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFWRCBTTJETME51V0KNW6M

The night air in Richmond Park tasted ofdamp earth and decaying leaves, thick and heavy as it clung to Aurora’s skin. She’d left the warm glow of Silas’ bar behind, the muffled laughter and clinking glasses a distant memory. The path winding through the ancient oaks felt unnaturally quiet, the usual nocturnal rustlings of foxes and owls replaced by a profound, unsettling stillness. Her breath misted in the cold air, visible for a second before vanishing into the darkness. She pulled her coat tighter, the fabric rough against her palms, and quickened her pace, the crunch of her boots on the gravel path the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. The standing stones loomed ahead, ancient oaks twisted into grotesque shapes, their bark like cracked leather under the weak moonlight. Aurora’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the sudden, inexplicable chill that had settled over her. She’d come here because the pendant, the Heartstone, had pulsed against her skin as she walked from the bar. Not a strong pulse, just a faint, insistent warmth, like a warning whispered against her flesh. She’d dismissed it initially, attributing it to nerves or the lingering effects of too much wine. But now, standing beneath the gnarled branches, the feeling of being watched was no longer a whisper; it was a weight pressing down on her shoulders, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She’d been sent here. By whom? The pendant’s warmth had been a beacon, a signal she couldn’t ignore. Her friend Eva had spoken in hushed tones about the Grove, about the thin places where the Fae bled through. Aurora had laughed it off, a skeptical smile playing on her lips. But the pendant’s insistent warmth, the way it seemed to thrum in time with her own erratic heartbeat, had overridden her disbelief. She’d come alone, trusting the pendant’s guidance, trusting that whoever sent her knew what they were doing. Now, doubt clawed at her resolve, a cold, wet thing in her gut. She reached the heart of the Grove, a small, circular clearing bathed in moonlight. The air here felt different, thicker, charged with an energy that made her skin prickle. The wildflowers, usually vibrant, seemed muted, their colors drained to shades of grey and silver under the pale light. Shadows pooled in the corners, deepening into impenetrable blackness. Aurora took a step forward, her foot catching on a root she hadn’t seen. She stumbled, catching herself against the rough bark of an oak, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The pendant, resting against her chest beneath her coat, felt suddenly cold, then warm again, a confusing contradiction. A sound, faint but unmistakable, cut through the silence. It was like the tearing of silk, distant and muffled, yet somehow close. Aurora froze, her eyes scanning the shadows. Nothing moved. The trees stood sentinel, their branches swaying gently in a breeze that wasn’t there. The sound came again, a soft, wet tearing, like fabric being pulled apart. Her mind raced, trying to rationalize it. A fox? A bird? But the sound was too deliberate, too... human. Or something else. Something not of this world. She forced herself to breathe, counting slowly to ten. The pendant pulsed again, a stronger warmth this time, radiating from her chest. It was a beacon, but also a warning. She took another step, her eyes fixed on the deepest shadows near the standing stones. The air felt thick, viscous, like breathing through syrup. She could feel unseen eyes upon her, watching her every move, judging her presence. The wrongness wasn’t just in the air; it was in the very fabric of the place, a subtle distortion of reality that made her stomach churn. A movement caught the corner of her eye. She snapped her head around, heart pounding. A shadow detached itself from the trunk of a nearby oak, shifting unnaturally. It was tall, impossibly tall, its form blurred and indistinct, like smoke given shape. Aurora held her breath, her hand drifting towards the small, worn knife tucked into her belt. The shadow flowed towards her, not walking, but flowing, like water finding its path. She didn’t run. She couldn’t. The pendant’s warmth intensified, a fierce, protective heat against her skin, a lifeline in the growing darkness. The shadow coalesced, revealing nothing more than deeper darkness, a void that seemed to absorb the moonlight. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving only the oppressive silence and the pounding of her own heart. The tearing sound returned, louder this time, echoing through the clearing. Aurora stumbled back, her back hitting the rough bark of the oak she’d been leaning against. The pendant burned against her chest, a fierce, painful warmth. She looked down at it, her fingers trembling as she touched the cool, crimson gem. It pulsed, a steady, insistent rhythm, matching the frantic beat of her heart. It was a sign, a warning. She was not alone. The Grove wasn’t just a place; it was a threshold, and she had crossed it. The Fae were here, watching, waiting. The wrongness wasn’t just a feeling; it was a presence, a tangible force that made the air taste of iron and decay. The pendant’s glow dimmed slightly, as if acknowledging the danger, then flared again, a defiant spark in the encroaching darkness. Aurora Carter, cool-headed and intelligent, stood alone in the heart of the Fae Grove, the ancient oaks whispering secrets she couldn’t understand, and the only sound the tearing of something unseen, something ancient, tearing the veil between worlds.