Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0Y7BAW2D9M5056Q8SEW6Q

The standing stones rose from the earth like the ribs of some buried giant, their surfaces carved with spirals that seemed to shift when Aurora looked at them directly. She adjusted the strap of her delivery bag out of habit, though she'd left the thermal containers back at the flat. The Heartstone pendant hung cold against her collarbone for once, dormant. Nyx materialised from the shadow of the tallest stone, their violet eyes casting faint light across the autumn grass. "You're certain this is the place?" "The inscription mentioned seven oaks in a ring." Aurora counted the stones again. "Seven. Or what used to be seven." "Oak doesn't preserve that well. Not for centuries." Nyx drifted closer to one of the monoliths, their form flickering between solid and translucent. "These are old. Older than Richmond Park itself." The late afternoon light caught the carvings, and Aurora stepped closer. The spirals weren't carved at all — they were grooves filled with something silvery that caught the fading sunlight. She reached out, then hesitated. "I wouldn't." Nyx's whisper carried that strange wind-blown quality, like hearing words from across a great distance. Aurora pulled her hand back. "Why? What happens if I touch it?" "Nothing good. Fae boundaries are particular about permission." Aurora frowned at the standing stone, then at the space between each one. The grass grew thick and wild here, unlike the manicured lawns she'd passed on the walk from the Tube station. She could have sworn the temperature dropped as she stepped closer to the ring's threshold. "So we need an invitation?" "We need to knock." Nyx flowed across the ground, their shadow-form slipping between grass blades without disturbing them. They stopped at the centre of the circle and turned to face her. "Come. Stand with me." Aurora's boots crunched against dry leaves as she crossed the boundary. The moment her foot touched the inner ring, the amber light of late afternoon vanished. She gasped, stumbling forward, and Nyx's hand caught her elbow — solid and cool, like touching polished stone that had been kept in a cellar. The sky above them was wrong. Not the pale grey of London autumn. Not the deep blue of approaching evening. This sky shimmered with colours that had no names, aurora-like ribbons of violet and deep rose and something that shifted between green and gold depending on how she tilted her head. The sun hung low on the horizon, but it wasn't her sun — this one burned with a softer light, casting long shadows that moved independently of the objects that cast them. "Your hand." Nyx's voice pulled her back. Aurora realised she'd been gripping their arm hard enough to leave marks on their shadowy skin. She let go. "Sorry. I just — where are we?" "Between." Nyx turned slowly, their violet eyes scanning the landscape. "The grove exists in a pocket. Neither fully Earth nor fully Fae." The standing stones still ringed them, but the carvings now glowed with that inner silver light, bright enough to cast the clearing in sharp relief. Beyond the circle, the world opened into something that made Aurora's chest tight. Trees stretched toward the impossible sky, their trunks twisted into shapes that hurt to follow. Not because they were strange — they were beautiful, bark spiralling in patterns that suggested movement, growth, intention. Leaves in every colour of the sunset rustled without any breeze she could feel. And between the trees, carpeting the ground in rolling waves, flowers bloomed. "This is Richmond Park." Aurora's voice came out hushed. "This is — I've delivered to the houses on the edge of the park. I've walked through it." "Not this part." She took a step forward, then another. The ground felt spongy beneath her boots, alive in a way that made her skin prickle. The flowers turned toward her as she passed — not sharply, not like something from a nightmare, but with the slow, deliberate motion of plants following the sun. Except they were following her. "Don't linger on any single bloom." Nyx appeared at her shoulder, materialising from the shadow cast by one of the standing stones. "They'll try to keep you." "Keep me?" "They find mortals... compelling." Aurora quickened her pace, though she couldn't have said where she was going. The path ahead wound between the impossible trees, and she followed it because there was nothing else to do. The pendant at her throat remained cold, which meant nothing from Hel had touched this place. Small comfort. The air tasted different here — sweeter, thicker, like breathing in honey and smoke. Every inhale made her feel slightly light-headed, and she noticed that her boots were leaving impressions in the moss while Nyx left nothing at all. "You said you were human once." Nyx's form rippled, their silhouette blurring at the edges before snapping back into focus. "Centuries ago." "Do you miss it? Being... solid. All the time." "I am solid when I choose." Nyx reached out, their fingers brushing a low-hanging branch. Leaves shivered at the contact. "But miss it? Memory fades, Aurora. I remember being human the way you remember a dream upon waking. Fragments. Impressions. The feeling of sunlight on skin, though I can no longer recall what warmth truly felt like." "That's sad." "Is it?" Nyx turned their faintly glowing eyes toward her. "I experience things now that Aldric never could have imagined. Shadow has its own gifts." The path curved around a massive oak — a real one, not the twisted beauties that lined the grove's edges — and Aurora stopped short. Before her, the trees opened into a clearing bathed in that strange, shifting light. A stream wound through it, its water catching the colours of the sky and throwing them back in fractured rainbows. Willows lined the banks, their trailing branches stirring in that breeze she couldn't feel. And at the centre of it all, sitting on a stone that looked grown rather than carved, was a woman. She looked up as Aurora approached, and her eyes were the palest lavender Aurora had ever seen. Her silver hair cascaded past her waist, stirring though there was no wind, and her features held that same ageless quality as the trees — ancient and young all at once, like the moment between spring and summer. "You carry moonsilver." The woman's voice was music and wind chimes and something that made Aurora want to weep without knowing why. "And a heart that beats too fast for such a still place." Aurora's hand moved to the Fae blade at her hip, though she hadn't drawn it. The woman smiled. "Peace, child. If I wished you harm, you would not have reached this clearing." "Isolde." The name left Aurora's mouth before she'd consciously formed it. The Seer inclined her head, that smile still playing at the corners of her lips. "Aurora Carter. The Shadow who walks with you — Nyx, some called them, though names are fluid things between realms." Isolde rose from her stone seat, and Aurora noticed that where her bare feet touched the moss, no impression remained. "You've come seeking answers." "I don't even know how I got here. I mean, I know we walked, but —" "The path opens for those who need it." Isolde glided closer, her silver hair floating around her like she moved through water. "Need, not want. The distinction matters." Nyx shifted at Aurora's shoulder, their form darkening slightly. "We were sent. A pendant, a blade — gifts appeared without explanation." "Gifts." Isolde's laugh was bells and rushing water. "You mistake payment for generosity. Nothing comes free from my kind, Shadow. Nothing." Aurora's stomach tightened. "Then what's the price? For the pendant, the blade — why give them to me?" Isolde circled her slowly, those pale lavender eyes taking in every detail. Aurora felt like a specimen under glass, pinned and examined. "The Veil thins. You've felt it." Not a question. Aurora's hand moved to the Heartstone, finally warming against her skin. "Things are crossing over. Demons, or something like them." "Hel-spawn." Isolde stopped before her, close enough that Aurora could smell something like jasmine and winter. "Dymas stirs. The realm of Gluttony hungers, and its hunger bleeds through the cracks." "Why me? I deliver Chinese food. I'm not — I'm not a hero. I'm not anything." "We are what circumstance makes us." Isolde reached out, her fingers hovering just above Aurora's face. "May I?" The question was so unexpected that Aurora could only nod. Cool fingertips brushed her temple, and the world dissolved. She stood in a place of amber skies and endless vineyards, the smell of roasting meat and honey-thick wine filling her lungs. Figures moved in the distance — chefs in elaborate whites, diners gorging at tables that stretched to the horizon. And above it all, a presence watched from a palace of crystal and bone, its attention fixed on the crackling boundary between worlds. The vision fractured. Aurora gasped, stumbling back. Nyx caught her again, their grip steadying. "What did you show me?" "A truth. One of many." Isolde returned to her stone seat, her expression unreadable. "The Heartstone will guide you to tears in the Veil. The blade will cut through what you find on the other side. But neither will be enough without understanding." "Understanding of what?" "Of what you face." Isolde's eyes glowed faintly in the strange light. "Dymas is not a place of simple hunger. It consumes purpose, devours will. The demons who serve Gluttony don't simply eat flesh — they feast on the soul's desire until nothing remains but appetite." Nyx's form flickered. "You want her to cross into Hel." "I want nothing." Isolde's voice sharpened. "I see. I speak. What you do with the sight is your own choice." Aurora looked at the pendant, its crimson depths catching the grove's impossible light. The warmth against her skin had settled into a steady pulse, almost like a heartbeat. "How do I stop it? The tears, the demons — how do I seal the Veil?" Isolde's smile returned, sad and knowing. "The same way one empties the sea with a spoon: one scoop at a time." She gestured toward the path they'd come by. "Go. The grove will release you when you're ready. But remember, Aurora Carter — the Fae do not lie. When I tell you the path ahead is darkness and flame, believe that I have shown you mercy by not describing the worst." Aurora turned toward the standing stones, their glow dimming as the strange sun began to set. Nyx moved beside her, silent for once. They'd taken perhaps a dozen steps when Isolde's voice reached them, carrying across the flower-strewn clearing. "One more thing, Shadow." Nyx paused. "Aldric's mistake was ambition. Don't repeat it." The standing stones flared silver, and the world folded around them.