Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQSYXBXHQ3PSM08W00ED3C

Aurora crouched beneath the ancient oaks, windless air pressing against her skin. Her fingers curled around the Heartstone pendant, each pulse of warmth a reminder why she’d come this far. Moonlight slipped through the branches in silver slivers, dappled across moss and wildflowers that bloomed even at midnight. Soft footsteps crunched behind her. She froze, bright blue eyes scanning the shadows between the standing stones. No rustle of animal, no distant owl. Just the hush of leaves shifting without breeze. “This is ridiculous,” she murmured, voice low as gravel. She rose on crooked legs, leather boots silent on damp earth. Her breath puffed into the night, white mist vanishing almost instantly. The grove yawned around her, boundary stones like sentinels bent by centuries. Time here twisted. Outside, minutes had passed; inside, hours. She’d lost track of both. She’d come chasing a glimmer of faerie lore, a hint that the High Fae might answer her questions. She imagined confronting an emerald-skinned courtier, demanding truths. Something in her chest coiled, anticipation morphing into dread. A distant snap of twig. She jerked toward the sound. Her pulse kicked. Adrenaline flared. “Hello?” she called, tone firm. No reply. Only a low hum—almost human—drifted through the trees. The pendant pulsed again, stronger this time. She slid it free, watched the gem’s crimson heart pulse against her palm. The warmth seeped through her skin, mapped in veins of light against her palm. A faint whisper stole across the grove. Aurora’s lips parted. “Rory.” The whisper sounded like her name but thin, hollow. Closer now. Pangs of cold shot down her spine. “Mistress Carter,” it breathed. Soft. Urgent. Her hand shot to the scar on her left wrist. Childhood memory flared—her mother’s voice calling after her near the stream. No. This wasn’t memory. This voice belonged to something alive in the grove. She glanced back at the stones. They loomed taller than before, trunks knotted with black bark that pulsed faintly, almost like veins. She stepped forward, heels crunching bark. “I’m not here to be mocked.” She held the pendant level, like a torch. Shadows retreated at its glimmer. A flutter at the edge of her vision. She swung her head. Pale shapes drifted between trunks—thin, elongated silhouettes that flicked away whenever she stared. She raised her voice. “Show yourself!” Silence answered. Then the hum swelled into a chirrup of many voices. They wove together, high and low. A child’s laughter cut through the chorus, metallic and jagged. She pressed back against a standing stone, breath rasping. Pain rippled across her wrist scar where the pendant’s warmth surged. Her heart hammered. She hadn’t signed up for tricks. She needed information, proof of faerie interference at Hel portals. Instead, she felt prey. “Stop this,” she ordered, chin lifting. Her shadow stretched long across the leaf-scattered ground. She pictured Eva’s calm face, heard her voice urging caution. But pride and panic pushed her onward. A breeze whispered to her, though air lay still. Fingers of mist curled at her ankles. She shivered. Silver light from the grove’s wildflowers glowed around her feet. Each step seemed to elongate. Time bent; her pulse thudded in her ears. Something skittered behind her. She whirled. A cackling silhouette darted between oaks—no more than a head and shoulders, limbs too long, bones too slender. It flitted across her path and vanished. Hot fear snaked up her spine. She backed against the stone. “Who are you?” She swallowed past a lump. “What do you want?” A low chuckle drifted around the circle of trees. Leaves rustled overhead though the air lay still. The stones hummed, faint vibration under her palm. Wood creaked. Shadows stretched and recoiled. She closed her eyes, drawing in a breath. Heartstone glowing brighter now, slick warmth pooling through her fingers. She flicked its chain, letting it catch the moonlight. She whispered to it: “Guide me.” The glow pulsed in answer. She opened her eyes to see a figure at the boundary, half-hidden behind a standing stone. Straight posture. Long hair falling to its waist. Face angled away, features lost in gloom. No breath sounded; the scent of lavender drifted. She raised a hand. “I’m here for answers. I won’t leave until—” The figure turned. No face stared back, only smooth, pale surface, eyes empty hollows where moonlight pooled. A smile—or what might have been a smile—twisted at impossible angles. Rory staggered back. Her palm scorched; she tossed the pendant. It landed at her feet, light dimming. She pressed her hand to her throat, chest stuttering. The figure’s feet hovered inches above the ground. It tilted its head, hair drifting though no breeze stirred. She stooped to snatch the pendant. Warmth flared bright, searing pain along her scar. She cried out, curling into herself. The figure drifted closer, silence pressing in. Rory kicked out. Boot met empty air. She lurched forward, seized the Heartstone. Its glow roared like fireflies released. White heat blossomed through her fingers, lighting the grove in crimson radiance. Wildflowers ignited in spots of crimson light. The faceless figure recoiled, shadows scrambling to cloak it again. It let out a sound like wind rushing through reeds. Then it vanished between oaks in a blur. Silence collapsed behind it. Aurora crouched, gasping. Her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. The forest went still. No murmur of voices. Leaves settled. The stones stood inert. She pressed the pendant against her chest. Its glow faded to a steady pulse. She glanced up at the boundary stones. Everything looked unchanged—as if nature had swallowed the terror whole. “Not alone,” a voice whispered, impossibly close. Behind her now. She froze, nowhere to look without turning her back to one of the towering oaks. A soft scrape, like fingernails over bark. Something circled her, slipping from tree to tree. Her skin prickled. She could almost taste the breath of something watching. The pendant pulsed again, harder. Light traced the runes on its back—runes she couldn’t read, but now felt alive under her palm. Warmth bled into her palm, then up her arm. She swallowed. Heartstone sang against her skin, a steady drum beneath her ribs. She straightened. Bright blue eyes flashed. “Come on out,” she challenged. “You want this?” She held up the pendant. The chain gleamed silver. “Here. Take it.” Silence answered. Then the cracking sound of wood splitting. She spun. A branch arced toward her head. She ducked. It crashed into the stone behind her, splintering bark. Splinters drifted like embers in the pendant’s glow. Footsteps padded through moss. They circled again. No shape, only soft scuffs and the occasional crunch. Aurora’s heart hammered. Her pulse clashed with the pendant’s steady beat. Her voice shivered but held firm. “Whatever you are—” The pendant flared, cutting through darkness. Slivers of red light raced along the oaks. Branches writhed in the glow, shadows clawing at their limbs. Every blade of grass flickered, alive. The footsteps paused. Silence. Only the hum of her own blood thrumming. “I know you’re there,” she whispered. “I know you.” She straightened, braced her boots. Moonlight spilled across her hair, glinting like midnight silk. She raised the pendant in both hands. Its glow pulsed, a heartbeat matched to hers. Leaves rustled. Something moved at the edge of her vision—a pale hand sliding across a trunk. Long fingers bent impossibly. She took a step forward. “Show yourself.” The pendant’s light sputtered, then flared into a silent scream of red. The grove cracked in its radiance. Shadows peeled back. The night air froze. Silence shattered as the figure reappeared, faceless, hovering just beyond the reaching glow. Aurora inhaled, braced for what came next. The stone beneath her boots thrummed with ancient power. The grove trembled between realms, caught in the seam of Earth and Fae. She held the Heartstone high, its pulse matching the tremor in her chest. And waited.