Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT10C8BY51VJZCDWKGDGT59

Theancient oak standing stones pierced the earth like broken teeth, jagged and grey against the manicured grass of Richmond Park. Aurora Carter paused at the perimeter, the damp chill of the London evening seeping through her jacket. Her fingers brushed the rough bark of the nearest monolith. A sudden, sharp heat bloomed against her chest. She flinched, hand darting inside her coat to pull out the Heartstone Pendant. The crimson gemstone pulsed with a rhythmic, inner light, warmer than her skin. "It knows." Nyx materialised from the shadow of a nearby rhododendron. Their form wavered, a solid darkness cut from a different cloth of reality, faint violet eyes glowing in the twilight. They didn't speak so much as breathe the words, the sound like wind rushing through a cracked window. "The boundary is thin here." Nyx extended a hand, long fingers dissolving into mist as they passed through the gap between the stones. "Can you taste it? The ozone and old magic." Rory grimaced, tucking the pendant back into her shirt. The heat lingered, a comforting anchor. She adjusted the strap of her bag, feeling the weight of the Fae-Forged Blade pressing against her hip through the fabric. The cold metal seemed to leech the warmth from her side, a stark counterpoint to the stone. "I taste damp dog and exhaust fumes." She stepped up to the threshold. "Isolde said she was waiting." Isolde Varga stood just beyond the central stone, though she hadn't been there a second ago. The silver hair cascading down her back shimmered with a life of its own, catching light that didn't exist in the park. Her pale lavender eyes regarded Rory with a mixture of amusement and ancient tiredness. "The mortal world clings to you, Aurora Carter." Isolde gestured with a graceful sweep of her arm. "Step through. Leave the clock at the door." Rory took a breath and crossed the line. The sensation hit her like a physical blow, a sudden drop in barometric pressure that made her ears pop. The damp chill vanished, replaced by a thick, humid warmth that smelled of crushed pine needles, honey, and rain on hot asphalt. She spun around. The towering oaks of the park were gone. In their place stood a forest of bioluminescent fungi and towering, spiralling trees with bark like polished obsidian. The sky above wasn't the heavy grey of London, but a swirl of violet and bruised peach, light without a visible source. "Welcome to the Grove." Nyx drifted past her, their feet hovering inches above a ground carpeted in moss that glowed a soft, electric blue. They seemed more solid here, less a shadow and more a creature of substance. "The resonance is stronger here." Nyx crouched, trailing a hand through the glowing moss. The light rippled away from their touch like water. "The Veil is just a whisper." Rory took a cautious step forward. Her boots sank into the moss, silent. She looked down, expecting footprints, but the moss sprang back instantly, leaving no trace she had ever walked there. "Don't worry about the path." Isolde walked ahead, her movements fluid, leaving no footprints of her own. "The ground remembers, but it does not judge." They moved deeper into the clearing. The flora defied earthly biology. Flowers with petals like stained glass hung suspended in mid-air, drifting lazily on currents Rory couldn't feel. Vines thicker than her torso coiled around the obsidian trees, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic thump like a heartbeat. Rory reached out to touch a fern that unfurled as she watched. The fronds were metallic, cold and sharp. "I wouldn't." Nyx’s voice slid through the air. "It tastes like iron and regret." Rory pulled her hand back, clutching her jacket tighter. "This is where you live? It feels... unfinished." "It is a pause." Isolde stopped near a stream that flowed upward, defying gravity, winding its way into the violet sky. She dipped her fingers into the liquid, which shimmered like liquid mercury. "A breath held between realms. Time here is a suggestion, not a law." Rory checked her watch. The second hand was frozen, twitching uselessly between ticks. She tapped the glass, but the hand refused to move. "How long have we been here?" "An eternity. Or a heartbeat." Isolde turned, her expression unreadable. "Does it matter?" "It matters if I have a shift at the Golden Empress tonight." Rory scanned the perimeter of the grove. The standing stones were visible in the distance, shimmering like a mirage. Beyond them, the outline of London was blurred and indistinct, as if seen through thick frosted glass. The unease settled in her stomach, heavy and cold. This place was beautiful, yes, but it was the beauty of a deep-sea fish—luminous, alien, and predatory. "The blade." Nyx straightened, their gaze fixed on Rory’s hip. "It hums." Rory placed a hand on the hilt of the Fae-Forged dagger. Even through her gloves, the cold was biting. It vibrated against her palm, a low-frequency thrum that made her teeth ache. "It's been doing that since we crossed the stones." She drew the blade an inch. The moonsilver metal caught the ambient light, casting a long, slender shadow that didn't match the angle of the illumination. "It feels like it wants to cut something." "It senses the rifts." Nyx drifted closer, their head cocking to the side. "The fabric of this place is woven with stardust and decay. The blade belongs to the Courts, but the Grove... the Grove is a echo of them." Isolde laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a storm. "Clever shadow. The blade is hungry because this place is a feast of magic it cannot consume." Rory sheathed the weapon, the sound a sharp hiss of metal on leather. She walked to the edge of the upward-flowing stream. The air here tasted sweet, cloying, like rotting fruit. She looked at her reflection in the mercury water. Her face looked the same—pale, sharp blue eyes, black hair tied back—but the eyes in the reflection seemed older, tired. Or maybe that was just the distortion of the liquid. "What do you see?" Isolde stood beside her, though Rory hadn't heard her approach. "London. Bills. Deliveries." Rory stared at the water. "Myself." Isolde shook her head slowly. "You see the mask. The Grove shows the truth underneath. Look closer." Rory leaned in. The ripple stilled. For a moment, the image of her face flickered and changed, replaced by a woman clad in armour of woven light, standing atop a mountain of obsidian. The eyes were the same, but the expression was one of terrifying, cold resolve. She jerked back, stumbling on the soft moss. "A trick of the light." "Is it?" Isolde smiled, but the warmth didn't reach her lavender eyes. "The Veil weakens, Aurora Carter. The reflections are bleeding into the reality. You brought the Heartstone here. It bridges the gap." The pendant seared against her skin again. Rory clutched her chest, wincing. The heat was spreading, radiating outwards, making the air around her shimmer. "Nyx?" The Shade was at her side instantly, their form coalescing into a towering, protective shadow. "The stone reacts to the Grove’s core. We are too close to the epicentre." "Too close to what?" Rory gasped, the heat becoming unbearable, a physical weight pressing against her lungs. "To the reason I was exiled." Isolde turned her back on them, facing the deep, dark center of the grove where the light struggled to penetrate. "Come. The tour is over. The work begins." Isolde walked into the darkness without looking back. Rory fought to catch her breath, the pendant’s heat slowly subsiding to a dull throb. She exchanged a glance with Nyx. The Shade’s violet eyes were fixed on the darkness Isolde had entered, their body tense, poised to strike or flee. "Stay close." Nyx’s whisper was barely audible. "The shadows here have teeth." Rory nodded, tightening her grip on the strap of her bag. She followed the silver-haired seer into the dark, the bioluminescent plants bowing as she passed, watching her with unblinking, alien eyes.