Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQR45P9VY0HS9YEWNRNACX

The Heartstone Pendant lay heavy against Rory’s collarbone, its crimson glow bleeding through her shirt like a slow, steady heartbeat. She adjusted the strap of her delivery bag, the weight of the takeout containers inside suddenly oppressive. The standing stones of the Fae Grove loomed ahead, their gnarled oaks twisting into the night sky like skeletal fingers. A breeze slithered through the grass, carrying the scent of damp earth and something older—something that didn’t belong in Richmond Park. She shouldn’t have come. Not after the last time, when the Grove had spat her back out hours later, her phone dead and her skin prickling with the memory of eyes watching from the trees. But the pendant had pulsed against her sternum, warm and insistent, and the note tucked into her bag had been clear: *"The Grove remembers. It’s time to return what was taken."* Rory stepped past the boundary, the air thickening like syrup as she crossed into the clearing. The wildflowers here were too bright, their petals unfurling in the dark as if lit from within. The usual hum of the city had vanished, replaced by a silence so deep it pressed against her eardrums. She exhaled, her breath curling in front of her, though the night wasn’t cold. A twig snapped. Rory froze. The sound had come from behind her, near the stones. She turned slowly, her pulse hammering in her throat. Nothing. Just the swaying grass and the unnatural stillness of the trees. She swallowed. "Hello?" No answer. Of course there wasn’t. She forced herself to keep moving, her boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. The pendant’s glow had intensified, casting long, wavering shadows across the ground. She reached into her bag, fingers brushing the smooth surface of the takeout container she’d been instructed to bring. A peace offering. A bribe. She didn’t know which. Another sound—this time a whisper, like fabric dragging against bark. Rory spun, her breath hitching. The trees at the edge of the clearing seemed to lean inward, their branches knitting together like fingers lacing tight. She took a step back, her heel catching on a root. The pendant flared, hot against her skin. "Alright," she muttered, voice steadier than she felt. "I brought the damn food. Where is it you want me to—" A giggle cut her off. High, childlike, and wrong. It echoed from everywhere and nowhere, bouncing between the trees until Rory couldn’t tell which direction it had come from. Her fingers tightened around the container. "Who’s there?" The giggle dissolved into a sigh, long and shuddering. Then, from the darkness between the oaks, a figure emerged. It was small—no taller than Rory’s hip—with skin like bark and eyes that glowed the same crimson as the Heartstone. Its mouth stretched too wide, lips peeling back to reveal teeth like splinters. "You’re late," it said, voice like dry leaves skittering across stone. "We don’t like waiting." Rory’s stomach twisted. She’d seen things in the Grove before—glimpses of movement, shadows that didn’t belong—but never this. Never something that stood and spoke. "I—I didn’t know there was a time limit." The creature tilted its head, its neck cracking like a branch in the wind. "Everything has a time limit." It held out a hand, fingers ending in jagged points. "The food. Now." Rory hesitated, then pulled the container from her bag. The creature snatched it, its nails scraping against the plastic. It didn’t open it. Instead, it pressed the container to its chest like a cherished toy. "You brought the right one," it murmured. "Good girl." A chill slithered down Rory’s spine. "What do you want with it?" The creature’s grin widened. "We want what was promised." It took a step closer, the crimson glow of its eyes reflecting in the pendant. "You have something of ours. And we have something of yours." Rory’s blood turned to ice. "I don’t have anything of yours." The creature laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Don’t you?" It pointed a clawed finger at the pendant. "That doesn’t belong to you. It was never meant to be yours." Rory’s hand flew to the Heartstone. "This was given to me. I didn’t steal it." "Doesn’t matter." The creature’s voice dropped to a whisper. "It calls to us. And we answer." It took another step forward, its bare feet silent against the grass. "Give it back, and we’ll give you what you lost." Rory’s breath came fast. "What did I lose?" The creature’s smile vanished. "Time." It lunged. Rory stumbled back, her boot catching on something soft. She looked down. The grass beneath her feet had withered, blackened, as if something had drained the life from it. She barely had time to register the change before the creature was on her, its hands—too many fingers, too many joints—grappling for the pendant. She twisted away, her wrist burning where the creature’s nails raked her skin. The Heartstone flared, its glow searing her vision. The creature shrieked, recoiling, its bark-like skin blistering where the light touched it. "Thief!" it hissed. "Liar!" Rory didn’t wait. She turned and ran, her boots pounding against the earth. The trees seemed to stretch, the path ahead twisting into darkness. Behind her, the creature’s wail rose into the night, joined by others—dozens of voices, all screaming the same word. *Thief. Thief. Thief.* The standing stones loomed ahead, their outline jagged against the sky. Rory didn’t slow down. She crashed through the boundary, the air snapping like a rubber band against her skin. The sounds of the Grove cut off abruptly, replaced by the distant hum of traffic and the rustle of real leaves. She didn’t stop running until she reached the park’s edge, her lungs burning. Only then did she dare to look back. The Grove was gone. Just an empty stretch of grass and trees, bathed in the sickly orange glow of streetlights. The pendant lay cold against her chest, its light extinguished. Rory’s hands shook as she pulled it out, her fingers tracing the crescent scar on her wrist. The creature’s words echoed in her skull. *We’ll give you what you lost.* She didn’t know what that meant. But she knew one thing for certain. The Grove wasn’t done with her.