Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFZQBDADM02Y366DSGS2V6

The oak standing stones loomed ahead, their gnarled branches tangling against the bruised twilight sky. Aurora Carter rubbed her left thumb along the small crescent scar on her wrist as she stepped past the boundary into the Fae Grove. A prickle ran up her bare arms — the evening had been balmy when she left Silas’ bar, but here the air carried the undertone of frost. The pendant between her collarbones pulsed once, a brief flare of warmth against her skin. Her sneakers crunched on fallen leaves, the sound too loud in the unnatural stillness. Richmond Park should have been alive with rustling creatures and distant traffic noise just beyond the trees. But she’d walked far gorgeous than maps allowed, following instincts she couldn’t explain, and now even the wind held its breath. Wildflowers crowded the clearing, their petals unnervingly vibrant in the fading light. Rory crouched, brushing fingertips against a cluster of bluebells that trembled despite the absence of breeze. The flowers parted. Beneath them, the earth exhaled — a moist, fungal breath that smelled of turned soil and something metallic. She jerked her hand back. A whisper skittered across her nape, syllables just shy of forming words. Rory’s head snapped up. Her pendant throbbed again, hotter this time, as her gaze darted between the dense tree line. Nothing moved except the swaying flowers where no wind blew. "Eva?" she called, though she knew her friend wouldn’t be here. Eva had moved on months ago, chasing rumors of her vanished brother through Dresden’s underground clubs. Rory pressed the smooth stone of her pendant between finger and thumb until the heat subsided. She’d come because the message slipped under her door bore Eva’s looping handwriting: *Meet me at the Grove. Full moon. Bring the stone.* The ink had smudged under her thumb, suspiciously fresh for somethingiedad to have been delivered days prior. Another whisper, this time from her left. Rory turned slowly. Between two ancient oaks, something gleamed — a pale suggestion pressed against the dark bark. Not quite a face. Not quite not a face. The pendant seared her sternum. She blinked. The gleam was gone. A twig snapped behind her. Rory whirled, fists rising on instinct. Empty clearing. The wildflowers shivered in a circle around where she stood, petals curling inward like tiny fingers. The pendant’s chain tightened against her throat. Something wasn’t just watching. Something was *counting*. She felt it in the way her breath crystallized before her lips. In the way her scar itched as though freshly carved. She took a step back toward the standing stones—or where she thought they’d been. The trees leaned closer, their branches knitting together. The whispering coalesced behind her right ear: *Laila.* Her childhood name. The one Evan had spat before throwing her against the bathroom tiles. Rory’s knees locked. Evan was dead — she’d watched the coroner zip the body bag herself after the train incident. The bluebells began to chime. She ran. Branches clawed at her arms as she crashed through underbrush that hadn’t been there moments before. The pendant burned against her skin, its crimson glow casting monstrous shadows that scampered just beyond sight. A child’s laughter burbled up from the earth beneath her feet. Rory skidded to a stop. Ahead, the standing stones formed their archway, but the spaces between weren’t leading back to Richmond Park. Milky fog coiled through the gaps, and suspended within it— A hand. Palm up, fingers beckoning, the wrist adorned with a familiar crescent scar. The pendant shattered with a sound like breaking bone. Shards of crimson stone embedded in her palm as the Grove inhaled around her. The flowers sighed. The trees leaned in. And something wearing her face stepped forward from the fog.