Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQYXW17Q3V8FCQQ7SRWAYT

Aurora's footsteps crunched on fallen leaves as she approached the ancient oak stones marking the Grove's boundary. The moon hung bloated in the sky, casting long shadows through Richmond Park's skeletal winter trees. Her breath fogged in the frigid air while she traced the crescent scar on her wrist - a nervous habit from childhood. The Heartstone pendant pulsed against her chest, its warmth a stark contrast to the biting cold. She needed answers about the mysterious benefactor who'd given it to her, and Isolde's grove was the only place that might hold them. Aurora slipped between the standing stones. The transition always felt like walking through spider webs - invisible threads catching at her skin, making her shiver. Beyond the boundary, wildflowers carpeted the ground despite the February chill. Their sweet perfume hung thick in the air, almost cloying. "Just find the clearing's center, leave the offering, and get out," she muttered. Simple enough in theory. But something felt wrong tonight. The familiar grove seemed... altered. The flowers' scent carried an undercurrent of decay, like overripe fruit gone to rot. A twig snapped behind her. Aurora whirled around, heart hammering. Nothing there except shadows between the trees. She forced herself to breathe slowly, pressing her palm against the pendant's warmth. The path ahead twisted more than she remembered, leading her deeper into the grove. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in strange patterns, creating shifting shapes that drew her eye but disappeared when she looked directly at them. Another crack of wood, closer this time. Aurora quickened her pace. The pendant's pulse grew stronger, faster - like a frightened heartbeat against her skin. "Hello?" Her voice sounded thin in the heavy air. "Is someone there?" The flowers at her feet trembled, though no wind stirred the trees above. Their sweet smell intensified, becoming nearly nauseating. Aurora covered her nose with her sleeve. Something brushed against her ankle. She jumped back with a yelp, but saw only wildflowers swaying gently. Except... they were swaying toward her, their stems stretching up like grasping fingers. The pendant burned now. Aurora stumbled backward, her heel catching on an exposed root. She caught herself against a tree trunk, its bark unnaturally smooth and warm beneath her palm. When she pulled her hand away, it left a perfect print glowing with soft blue light. More handprints began appearing around it - dozens of them, spreading across the trunk like luminous bruises. A whisper drifted past her ear, too quiet to make out words but carrying unmistakable urgency. The pendant's heat had become almost unbearable. Aurora turned in a slow circle, watching the handprints bloom across every tree around her. The grove had never felt this wrong, this alien. The flowers were definitely moving now, their petals opening and closing like hungry mouths. The whispering grew louder, a chorus of voices speaking words she couldn't quite grasp. They seemed to be trying to tell her something important, something vital - but understanding slipped away like water through her fingers. Her own heartbeat thundered in her ears as she backed away from the glowing trees. The path she'd followed had vanished, replaced by an impenetrable wall of writhing flowers. The pendant's pulse matched her racing heart, creating a desperate rhythm that seemed to echo through the grove. Time moved strangely here - she knew that. But tonight it felt particularly unstable, stretching and compressing like taffy. Had she been here for minutes or hours? Would anyone notice if she didn't make it back? The whispering reached a fever pitch. Aurora pressed her hands over her ears, but the voices were inside her head now. The flowers surged upward, their stems twisting together into humanoid shapes that reached for her with petal-tipped fingers. She turned to run and found herself face-to-face with her own reflection, hanging in the air like a mirror made of night. But her reflection's eyes were wrong - too dark, too deep, like wells that led straight to hell. The pendant blazed like a star against her chest.