Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR0K4QB2RS20VF39TH24RZ

The air smelled of damp earth and something older, something buried under layers of time. Aurora Carter stepped past the gnarled oak standing stones, her boots sinking slightly into the soft moss. The pendant at her throat warmed, a faint pulse against her skin. She’d worn it tonight, just like she’d promised herself she would. The Grove wasn’t supposed to feel like this. She’d come here for answers. Or at least, that’s what she’d told herself. The pendant had led her here—she’d felt its pull the moment she stepped into Richmond Park, like an invisible thread tugging at her ribs. But the Grove wasn’t just a place. It was a *thing*. A wound in the world, a place where time didn’t quite behave, where the line between here and the Fae realm blurred. And now, standing at the edge of the clearing, she realised she’d made a mistake. The wildflowers here weren’t just bright—they *glowed*, a sickly green under the pale moonlight. They shouldn’t bloom like this. They shouldn’t *move* like this, swaying just enough to catch her eye, though there was no wind. The air hummed, a low, constant vibration that made her teeth ache. Aurora exhaled through her nose, forcing herself to focus. She’d come prepared. A knife in her boot, a pocket full of loose change—copper, she’d read, was good for warding off things like this. But the pendant was the real reason. It had to be. She took another step forward, her breath shallow. The trees here weren’t just trees. Their bark was too smooth, their leaves too perfect, like something had polished them. The standing stones loomed, their surfaces etched with symbols she didn’t recognise, spirals and teeth and things that looked like eyes. A sound. Not a rustle. Not a branch breaking. Something *shifting*. Aurora froze. Her pulse hammered in her throat. She swallowed hard, forcing her fingers to unclench around the pendant’s chain. Then she heard it again. A wet, clicking noise, like fingers dragging over stone. She turned slowly, scanning the darkness. The shadows here weren’t just dark. They *moved*. Just a little. Just enough to make her skin prickle. “Hello?” Her voice came out too loud, too sharp. She cleared her throat. “Anyone there?” Silence. Too much silence. Then— A whisper. Not from the trees. Not from the wind. From *inside* her head. A voice, soft as a breath on her ear, though no one stood near. *“You shouldn’t be here.”* Aurora’s breath hitched. She pressed a hand to her temple, as if she could push the words away. But they lingered, slithering through her skull like smoke. “Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice steadier now, sharper. The voice didn’t answer. It only laughed. A sound like dry leaves skittering across stone. Aurora’s fingers twitched toward the knife. She didn’t pull it out—she didn’t want to draw attention. But she needed something. *Anything.* She took another step forward, her boots crunching on something brittle underfoot. She crouched, brushing away the damp earth. A cluster of roots, blackened and brittle, like something had been gnawing at them. Then she saw the footprints. Too many to count. Too small to be human. They led deeper into the clearing, disappearing beneath the glow of the flowers. Aurora’s stomach twisted. She stood, her back pressing against the cold stone of one of the standing stones. The pendant burned against her skin now, a pulse of heat that made her wince. “Show yourself,” she said, her voice low, controlled. She didn’t want to scream. She didn’t want to run. The voice came again, closer this time. *“You’re not supposed to see.”* Aurora’s breath came faster. She forced herself to focus on the pendant, on the warmth radiating from it. It had to be a sign. It had to mean something. Then she saw *it*. A shape in the darkness. Tall. Too tall. Its limbs moved in ways that made her stomach lurch. It didn’t walk so much as *flow*, its form shifting, blending into the shadows. Aurora’s hand shot out, gripping the pendant tight. The heat flared, bright enough to make her eyes water. The thing in the darkness *stopped*. For a second, she thought she’d imagined it. But then— A sound like tearing fabric. The thing *moved*. Aurora didn’t wait. She turned and ran, her boots pounding against the earth. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. The trees swallowed her, their branches clawing at her arms as she forced herself forward. She didn’t know where she was going. She just knew she had to get *away*. Then she heard it again—the clicking, the whispering. *“You’re not supposed to leave.”* Aurora’s legs burned. Her lungs ached. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t dare.