Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0D0K6RG94VRERS96FG6DH

The standing stones rose from the grass like weathered sentinels, their bark-covered surfaces betraying their true nature. Ancient oaks, bent and twisted into rough pillars, marking something far older than their gnarled roots suggested. Aurora touched the Heartstone beneath her coat—a habit now, reflexive as breathing—and felt its warmth pulse once before settling into its usual steady heat. "Through the circle, then?" Nyx's voice drifted from the lengthening shadows beneath the trees. Late afternoon sun slanted through Richmond Park's canopy, but here the light seemed uncertain of itself, wavering. "Isolde said to step between the northern and western stones at twilight." Aurora pulled her notebook from her jacket pocket, double-checking the seer's cryptic directions. The Half-Fae hadn't been forthcoming about what they'd find beyond the boundary, only that Aurora needed to see it. Something about understanding the spaces between. Nyx solidified beside her, their form coalescing into something almost human-shaped. The violet glow of their eyes tracked the tree-stones, studying. "Time moves strangely in Fae-touched places. Stay close." Aurora had brought the Shade because Evan's recent appearance at the Golden Empress had rattled her more than she'd admit. Having someone—something—that could slip between shadows felt prudent. That Nyx seemed genuinely curious about the Grove was a bonus. The air between the northern and western stones held a different quality. Thicker. Aurora reached forward and her fingers met resistance, like pushing through honey that gave way with sudden elasticity. Sound changed—the distant traffic from the main road cut off mid-drone, replaced by something she felt more than heard. A low thrum that resonated in her sternum. "Bloody hell," she muttered, and stepped through. The world tilted. Not physically—her feet remained planted on grass—but everything shifted sideways in a way that made her eyes water. Colours brightened until they bordered on painful: the wildflowers carpeting the clearing beyond weren't just purple, they were purple in ways that English lacked words for. Deep violet merged with shades of indigo that seemed to exist independently of the petals themselves, as if the hue originated from somewhere beneath reality's surface. Nyx flowed through beside her and immediately dispersed into smoke, their form losing cohesion. "Interesting," their voice whispered from multiple directions. "The boundary here is... porous." Aurora blinked hard, forcing her vision to adjust. The Grove stretched before them, circular and far larger than the space between the oak-stones should have permitted. Trees ringed the edges—not English oaks but something wilder, their silver bark catching light that came from no visible source. The sky overhead showed twilight, though they'd entered in late afternoon. Stars pricked through violet-tinged darkness, constellations Aurora didn't recognise arranged in geometries that suggested patterns just beyond her comprehension. "We're not entirely on Earth anymore." She said it as fact, not question. The Heartstone had gone from warm to almost hot against her skin. "Nor entirely in the Fae realm," Nyx reformed partially, their edges still misty. "Between. Like the Veil, but... intentional. Crafted." The grass beneath Aurora's boots felt real enough—cool, slightly damp—but each step released tiny motes of luminescence that drifted upward before winking out. She knelt, running her fingers through the blades. They were softer than normal grass, almost downy, and left a faint tingle on her skin that wasn't unpleasant. Just other. "Look." Nyx drifted toward the clearing's centre. A pool of water, perfectly circular, reflected the impossible sky. Aurora approached cautiously, her boots leaving impressions in the moss-covered ground that glowed briefly before fading. The pool's surface was mirror-smooth, undisturbed by wind that didn't exist here. She crouched at its edge and her reflection stared back—but wrong. The Aurora in the water looked slightly older, her hair longer, a scar on her cheek that didn't exist in reality. As she watched, the reflection moved independently, turning its head to glance at something beyond the pool's frame before meeting her gaze again. Aurora jerked back. "Christ." "The Grove shows possibilities." Isolde's voice emerged from everywhere and nowhere, carried on air that tasted of honey and copper. The Half-Fae stepped from behind a silver-barked tree, her bare feet making no impression on the glowing grass. "What might be, what could have been. The water reflects more than faces." "You might have led with that." Aurora stood, willing her pulse to slow. The reflection hadn't been threatening, just profoundly unsettling. Isolde smiled without warmth. "Where would be the lesson?" Nyx swirled closer to the seer, their form rippling with what might have been curiosity or irritation—Aurora couldn't tell. "Why bring her here? The mortal has enough complications without adding Fae riddles to the mix." "The Veil weakens. She will need to understand the spaces between if she hopes to navigate what comes." Isolde moved past them toward a structure Aurora hadn't noticed at the Grove's far edge. It wasn't a building, exactly. More like architecture suggested through negative space—pillars of twisted wood that framed empty air, creating doorways that led nowhere visible. Crystalline formations grew from the ground around it, each one humming a single pure note that overlapped with its neighbours into harmony that hurt to hear. Beautiful and wrong simultaneously. Aurora approached despite her better judgment. The closer she got, the more her chest tightened—not from fear exactly, but from the weight of power that saturated the air. The Heartstone burned against her sternum now, hot enough she had to reach beneath her jacket and pull it outside her shirt. The crimson gemstone pulsed in rhythm with the crystals' song. "Bloody hell," she repeated, watching the pendant's internal light flare brighter with each pulse. "It's resonating." "Heartstone was forged in Hel, but the magic that binds it is older. Fae-old." Isolde gestured to the structure. "This place exists in the overlap between realms. Your pendant recognises the harmonics." Nyx solidified fully now, their humanoid form more defined than Aurora had seen before. They stepped through one of the empty doorways and vanished—but their voice still whispered from nearby. "Space folds here. Each door leads to a different part of the Grove. Or perhaps different versions of it." Aurora walked around the structure's perimeter. Six doorways, each empty yet distinct. Through the first she glimpsed the pool, though from an angle that should have been impossible given where she stood. The second showed only darkness that moved subtly, as if breathing. The third... she squinted. Trees, but wrong. Too tall, their branches reaching toward ground-level in defiance of gravity. "The Grove exists in the margins," Isolde said, appearing beside her without having crossed the intervening space. "Where Earth touches Fae touches the spaces beyond. It is useful for those who need to understand that boundaries are more fluid than most believe." "And you think I need to understand that why?" Aurora faced the seer directly. "The Veil keeps Hel separate from Earth. That's not fluid, that's survival." "The Veil is not a wall, girl. It is a membrane." Isolde's pale lavender eyes caught the sourceless light. "Permeable under the right—or wrong—circumstances. You carry pieces of three realms now. The Heartstone from Hel. The Fae blade at your hip. And Earth-born blood in your veins. You exist in the overlap whether you accept it or not." The words settled heavy in Aurora's gut because they rang true in a way she couldn't dismiss. The warmth from the Heartstone had become familiar, almost comforting. The Fae-Forged Blade's constant chill against her thigh served as a reminder of debts and alliances she barely understood. And underneath it all, she was still just Rory from Cardiff, who'd wanted nothing more complicated than escaping her past. "Fantastic," she muttered. "So what, I'm a walking Veil tear waiting to happen?" "Or a bridge." Nyx emerged from a different doorway than they'd entered, their form rippling with something that might have been amusement. "Depends on perspective."