Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0FS7DCBT2D11PHX1DR27T

Aurora's boots struck stone that hummed beneath her feet. The sound rang differently here—not the hollow echo of earthly caverns, but something that seemed to vibrate through her bones. She paused at the threshold, one hand pressed against the ancient oak that marked the boundary, the other clutching the Heartstone pendant at her throat. "The Grove accepts you." Isolde's voice drifted from behind, already sounding distant though she stood mere steps away. "Step through, Aurora Carter. Time moves as it wills here." The air shimmered like heat waves, but cold pressed against Aurora's skin as she crossed into the Fae Grove. Her second step landed on grass that glowed with its own inner light, each blade pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. Wildflowers bloomed in impossible colours—petals that shifted from deep purple to silver as her gaze moved across them. "Bloody hell," she whispered, then immediately regretted the words. They seemed to hang in the air longer than they should, as if the Grove itself were tasting them. Nyx materialized beside her, their shadow-form more solid here than she'd ever seen it. The violet glow of their eyes had intensified, casting faint light on the nearest flowers. "The barriers are thin." Their whisper-voice carried notes she'd never heard before—almost musical. "I can feel the spaces between more clearly." Aurora took another step forward. The grass beneath her feet released a scent like honey and starlight, if starlight had a smell. She reached out to touch a nearby flower, and it leaned into her palm like a cat seeking affection. The petals felt like velvet that had been kissed by moonlight. "It's alive," she said. "Really alive, not just growing." "All things live here differently." Isolde glided past them, her silver hair flowing as if underwater. Her feet left no impression in the luminescent grass. "The Grove remembers when all places were thus." They moved deeper into the clearing, following a path that revealed itself one step at a time. Ancient oak trees surrounded them, their trunks wider than Aurora could have wrapped her arms around. But these weren't the oaks of Richmond Park. These trees breathed. She could see their massive chests rise and fall in slow, deliberate rhythms. Faces seemed to peer from the bark—not carved, but emerging and retreating like expressions in dreams. A sound drifted through the air, somewhere between wind chimes and distant singing. Aurora looked up to see what appeared to be fireflies, but as her eyes focused, she realized they were tiny winged figures no larger than her thumb. They darted between the branches in complex patterns, their movements too purposeful to be random. "Sprites," Isolde said without being asked. "They carry messages between the trees." One of the sprites approached Aurora, hovering just beyond her reach. Its wings were translucent, shot through with veins of gold. It studied her with eyes like chips of sapphire, then chittered something in a language that sounded like tinkling bells. "What did it say?" "That you taste of iron and determination." Isolde's lips curved in what might have been a smile. "It finds this combination curious in one so young." Aurora watched the sprite dart away to rejoin its companions. The pendant at her throat pulsed warmer, and she noticed something odd—the crimson stone was picking up colours from the Grove, reflecting purple and gold and silver in its depths. They reached what seemed to be the heart of the clearing, where a pool of water reflected stars that weren't visible in the amber sky above. The water's surface was perfectly still, yet Aurora could see movement beneath—not fish, but lights that swam in spirals and figure-eights. Nyx knelt beside the pool, their shadow-hand hovering just above the surface. Where their essence nearly touched the water, ripples spread outward, but in reverse—starting large and shrinking to nothing. "Time flows backward here, in places." They looked up at Aurora, wonder evident even in their featureless face. "I can see echoes of what will be." Aurora approached the pool cautiously. Her reflection stared back at her, but wrong—her image looked older, with streaks of silver in her black hair and a scar across her cheek that she didn't yet possess. As she watched, the reflection aged and grew younger in stuttering increments. "Don't look too long," Isolde warned. "The pool shows many possible paths. Some viewers lose themselves choosing which to follow." A flutter of movement caught Aurora's attention. She turned to see a butterfly the size of a dinner plate floating toward them. Its wings were transparent as glass, but filled with what looked like swirling galaxies. Stars and nebulae spun slowly within the wing membranes, creating patterns too beautiful and complex for mortal eyes to fully process. "The Grove's guardian," Isolde whispered. "It comes to judge your intentions." The butterfly alighted on Aurora's outstretched hand. Despite its size, it weighed nothing. The sensation was like holding captured moonlight. Where it touched her, warmth spread up her arm—not the heat of summer, but something deeper. Comfort. Welcome. The creature's antennae twitched, and suddenly Aurora could hear the Grove's song—not through her ears, but directly into her mind. It was the sound of growing things, of seasons turning, of ancient magic that had never forgotten how to dream. The melody wrapped around her thoughts, showing her glimpses of the Grove's history: the first Fae who had found this place, the rituals that had anchored it between worlds, the countless pilgrims who had sought wisdom here across centuries. The butterfly lifted from her hand and circled the group once before disappearing between the trees. As it vanished, the Grove seemed to exhale, and Aurora felt a fundamental shift in the air around them. "You have been accepted," Isolde said. "The Grove will remember you now. You may return when the need is great." Aurora looked around at the impossible beauty surrounding them—the breathing trees, the singing sprites, the flowers that bloomed in colours that had no names. The pendant at her throat pulsed steadily now, synchronizing with the Grove's own rhythm. "How do we get back?" she asked, though part of her wasn't sure she wanted to leave. "The same way you entered. But remember—minutes here may be hours there. Or seconds. The Grove keeps its own counsel regarding time." Nyx moved to her side, their form flickering between solid and shadow. "I understand now why you brought us here. This place... it's a crossroads, isn't it? Not just between realms, but between possibilities." Isolde nodded. "The Grove stands where all paths converge. What you have seen here will aid you in the trials ahead." Her pale lavender eyes fixed on Aurora. "The pendant you wear... it resonates with this place because it too exists between worlds. As do you, child of two realms." Aurora's hand moved instinctively to the Heartstone, feeling its warm pulse against her palm. Around them, the Grove hummed its ancient song, and she knew that whatever came next, she would carry this moment of wonder with her—a reminder that magic still breathed in the world, patient and wild and beautiful beyond imagining.