Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQRHMK35J9KJS2REZQWMVB

Moonlight draped the clearing in pale silk, glinting off the slender blades of grass and the weathered oaks that ringed the grove like silent sentinels. Aurora Carter stepped between two standing stones, shoulders tight, every nerve taut. The air smelled of damp earth and something older, something that might have bled through centuries of roots and moss. She drew a breath. The pendant at her throat warmed against her sternum. “I’m here,” she said, voice low. No answer. Only the wind weaving through branches. Her boots pressed into soft moss, releasing faint squeaks as she advanced toward the circle’s center. The stones towered, carved eons past, their faces pitted by time. She brushed her fingertips across one of the runes—worn shapes that meant nothing to her, yet teased the edges of recognition. She’d come hoping for clarity: a flicker of ruby light, a shiver when the Heartstone pulsed. Something to prove the portal. A rustle to her right. She spun, chest hammering. A flash of movement at the treeline, no more than a silhouette. Gone before her eyes could lock on it. Her hand flew to the pendant. “Show yourself,” she demanded. The pendant throbbed faintly, warm and insistent. The light remained slack, no flash of crimson. She stepped deeper into the grove, each footfall soft as a whisper. The ground dipped, hollowing beneath her feet. A hush settled, pressing in. The wildflowers at the circle’s edge trembled. Their petals shimmered in impossible hues—violet, cerulean, a bruise of indigo. She leaned closer, curious. A scent of honey and rot drifted from them, sticky sweetness tainted by decay. She jerked back, boots sinking into the churned earth. “Focus,” she murmured, trying to steady her pulse. The grove had to yield something—proof Hel’s threshold lay hidden beneath these oaks. A branch snapped behind her. She whirled again, fists clenched. No one stood there. Yet the air had thickened, as if the trees leaned in. Leaves rustled without breeze. Shapes flickered at her periphery. She blinked. Shadows bowed and straightened, taunting her vision. She needed to test the pendant. Fingers brushing the silver chain, she held the Heartstone up. Deep crimson light stained her palm. The glow pulsed once, twice. A warmth soothed her wrist’s crescent scar, tracing its curve. “Go ahead,” she whispered. “Let me see.” A footstep cracked the silence. Gravel and dry twigs. Closer. She dropped the pendant, cupping it in both hands. Light pooled across her palms, illuminating her face. Moonlight carved hollows under her bright blue eyes. Her lips parted. A voice answered her unspoken plea, soft and honeyed, woven through rustling leaves: “Why have you come?” Her heart slammed. She swallowed. The sound boiled in her ears. She knelt and scooped up the Heartstone, pressing it to her chest. Her voice quavered but held. “I need the portal.” She lifted her chin. “Show me where to step.” Silence stretched, as if the grove considered. The wildflowers bent toward her, petals brushing her ankles. A single blossom uncurled, white as bone. She inhaled its breath, cold and damp, and coughed. “Your reasons,” it whispered, voice like silk over steel. “Mean nothing here.” A wind knifed through, scattering petals. The stones flared, each rune flickering with charcoal light. Aurora staggered. Roots snaked across the earth, writhed like black serpents. She clutched the pendant as the ground pitched beneath her. “Stand,” the grove commanded. The words thrummed in her chest. “Prove yourself.” Her legs wobbled, knees threatening to buckle. She raised the Heartstone, light intensifying. The pendant’s warmth spilled into her, calm and fierce. She let it guide her, step by trembling step, toward the largest stone. It towered, braided with ivy and lichen. The runes along its base glowed scarlet. She paused, breath ragged. A figure loomed behind her—tall, gaunt. Horns curved from its skull, antlers woven from living oak. Its eyes held a galaxy of starlight, infinite and cold. She whirled, but the figure melted into shadow when she blinked. “You cannot touch it,” the grove intoned, voice fracturing through the branches. “You are not hers.” Her mind flared with fragments: Eva’s warnings, Silas’s stories of hauntings. She swallowed, held her ground. “I belong here,” she said. “I carry her mark.” She tapped the crescent scar on her wrist. The ground vibrated. A petal drifted to rest on her palm, the blossom pulsing like a heartbeat. The grove’s demand changed, softer now: “Why do you run?” She swallowed. Rage flared, a spark she fanned. “I ran to survive.” She hissed through clenched teeth, back straightening. “I won’t leave again.” The runes glowed brighter, fire kindling in the oak’s veins. Wind roared. Leaves whipped, slashing the night. The figure reemerged, closer now, its breath brushing her hair. She felt the damp chill. The leaves whispered around her, voices twined with laughter and tears. The Heartstone flared, spilling light across the clearing. The figure froze, recoil written in the tilt of its head. Aurora’s voice cut through the chaos. “Open it.” Silence swallowed the rustling wind. The runes pulsed once. A crack split the largest stone, fine and luminescent, like a scar opening in flesh. A gap widened, revealing darkness beyond. Not emptiness, but a corridor twisting into deeper night. A pulse of warmth shot through the pendant, through her veins, almost gentle. She stepped forward, boots scuffing the earth. The wildflowers leaned after her, their petals glowing like lanterns. Roots crawled aside as she passed, creating a path. Behind her, the standing stones hummed with life. Aurora raised the Heartstone, held it aloft. The pendant’s inner glow blazed. She met the corridor’s edge, light spilling into the void. She hesitated only a heartbeat. Footsteps sounded on the leaf-strewn ground behind her. Slow. Measured. She didn’t look back. “I’m not afraid,” she said, voice low. The corridor swallowed her words. She crossed the threshold, the trees sighing in her wake. Roots sealed the gap, and the grove fell silent again. Only the moon watched, its light fading as the grove reclaimed its secrets.