Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQZ6S8A473JG673GH6GVAN

Aurora stepped through the arch of ancient oak standing stones, the silver chain of the pendant cooling lightly against her neck. The night was sharp, clear, but the air inside the Grove felt different. Charged. It seeped through her skin, curling cold fingers around her spine. She paused, scanning the brush at the rim of the clearing, the wildflowers—untouched by season or decay—glimmering faintly in the moonlight. Her breathing slowed. She’d come here with a purpose: to understand the whispers tied to the pendant, to find out what tugged at its warmth when she crossed the boundary. But the instant her foot crossed the threshold, something skewed inside the Grove. It didn’t feel quite alive. At least, not in a way she could name. She pulled her jacket tighter and tightened her grip on the small satchel swinging from her shoulder. A knot twisted in her belly. The night around Richmond Park was supposed to be still. Quiet. Yet beneath the rustle of leaves and the soft brush of petals, there was an unnatural silence, as if the Grove itself was holding its breath. The crunch of dry earth underfoot was the first sound to crack the silence—until it wasn’t. From the far edges of her vision, shadows shifted, scraps of movement that dissolved whenever she blinked. Something slid between the gnarled roots, just beyond the reach of moonlight. She spun, eyes wide. “Hello?” The word came out tight, too sharp. Her voice sounded alien in the hollow but she spoke it anyway. No response. Aurora swallowed, the tightening in her chest sharpening. The pendant pulsed softly against her skin, a faint, steady throb, like a heartbeat pressed straight into her collarbone. That glow beneath the crimson stone flickered in the dark, faint as a memory. She slid her hand up to it as if the warmth might anchor her. But it only set the hairs along her arm on edge. The deeper she ventured, the more the normal rules of night unraveled. The stars above twirled lazily as if slow-motion, but on the ground, the shadows grew restless. A dart of silver caught in a patch of moonbeam—no animal she could name—but it vanished when she lifted her gaze. A cold breath whispered over her neck. Goosebumps scattered as she whipped around, searching—nothing. The Grove was still again, but her pulse throbbed loud enough to drown out any other noise. This wasn’t natural. Nothing on this earth was meant to sound so hollow inside living green. She stepped further, past a clump of bluebells that glowed with a strange inner light. The pendant prickled, warm now, almost hot. She fingered the crescent-shaped scar on her wrist, a reflex from childhood, grounding her to something real, tangible. She wasn’t crazy. There was a presence here, hidden between the roots and shadows. A sudden sharp crack—the snap of a twig?—strained her nerves. She froze, fist clenched tight on the pendant, breath shallow. Another sound, a scraping just beyond the clearing’s reach. Not human footsteps, slower, uneven. Something large moved through the darkness. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she said quickly, voice rough. The silence bled back, thick as fog. She could just make out a figure on the periphery, tall and gaunt, shifting without pattern. When she blinked, it twisted into something else—a glimpse of movement like smoke curling through branches. Her heart hammered. “Alright, I’m leaving,” she said, taking a step back. The pendant brightened suddenly, a faint glow radiating from the gem, but that light fell short of illuminating the forest edge. A low sigh wreathed in the wind tickled the back of her neck, a breath colder than night. Another figure, but not a shape she could fully see. The edge of vision caught the glance of empty sockets where eyes ought to rest. “Leave,” it whispered, voice hollow but threaded with menace. Aurora’s knees felt weak. She dug into the earth for balance, the world tilting. Yet something else uncoiled inside her—anger, sharp and crystalline. “I’m not scared of you,” she shot back, lifting her chin. Still, the hollow voices tangled in the leaves, and distant flickers of movement braided through the thicket. The Grove wasn’t a safe space anymore. It was a trap, or a warning. She searched her memories—the lore, the legends Eva had warned her about. This place existed between worlds. Time bent here, but so did the rules of life and death. Something old lived in the shadows of these trees, and it remembered every betrayal, every trespass. The cold thickened, the shadows growing longer, darker. She could almost hear the pulse of the earth beneath, something ancient waking. The glow from the pendant flared, bright but fragile—a desperate beacon. “Who are you?” she demanded, voice cracking. “Not who, but what,” came the rasp, the voice dissolving into leaves. “A remnant. An echo. You don’t belong here, Carter.” Recognition hit like a cold blade. She gripped the pendant harder. “Maybe—but I’m here for answers.” Her voice was steel now, unyielding despite the fear curling through her veins. The air rippled, shadows swirled. A shape staggered forward, features undefined, pale as bone beneath the moon’s sickle glow. It didn’t advance, but it didn’t retreat. The ancient oak stones hummed, a dull warning. The Grove was shifting around her, as if responding to the presence—imprisoning her deeper in its tangled heart. A sudden gust stirred the wildflowers, petals fluttering like trapped moths. The figure’s voice dripped cold sorrow and warning. “Some doors, once opened, undo you.” Aurora’s breath caught. The Grove pulsed, the lines between worlds blurring. But she stood firm, the pendant’s warmth anchoring her spirit in the darkness. “I’m already undone,” she said, stepping forward. “Now tell me what I need to know.”