Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR0MTX77NZ7ZES3TDQRMDA

Aurora Carter stepped between the ancient oaks marking the grove’s rim. The silver chain pressed cool against her collarbone. She raised her chin, scanning the clearing. Wildflowers glowed pale blue in the dark. Their petals curved inward, as if listening. Her fingertips brushed the Heartstone Pendant. It pulsed warm, but faint. Near a Hel portal, the gem throbbed like a trapped heartbeat. She’d come to prove the stories true. To find the gateway. A low wind stirred. Leaves murmured secrets she couldn’t parse. She advanced past the stones. Nothing in Cardiff had ever felt this hollow. Her boots sank into moss that swallowed sound. The air turned damp, heavy. She glanced at her watch. Midnight. Or what she thought was midnight. Time in the grove twisted. An hour here might be minutes outside—or years. The pendant glowed now, a thread of crimson light under her shirt. She peeled back fabric, held it aloft. The stone’s warmth flared, then dimmed. No sudden flare marking the portal’s edge. No guiding glow. A twig snapped behind her. She spun. Branches swayed, but no shape lurked at the grove’s fringe. The scent of earth rose and fell, like breath. She swallowed. A whisper sounded, half-lost in rustling leaves. She held her breath. The petals of the wildflowers parted, turned toward her. They leaned like silent sentinels. She crossed the open ground, crunching underfoot. Moonlight sliced through the canopy in narrow beams. Shadows quivered at the edge of vision. Something brushed her ankle. She jerked backward, catching the hem of her jeans. Dry petals drifted to the ground. She knelt, gathered them in her palm. Pale, veined, tremoring as if alive. The Heartstone warmed again. She pressed it between thumb and forefinger. Its glow seeped into her palm. She leaned forward, eyes on the circle of standing stones ahead. Within waited the old altar stone, covered in lichen and hollows worn by hands long gone. She reached out. Fingers tingled on the rough surface. The moment her skin made contact, the pendant’s pulse erupted in her chest. A faint thrum in her ear ran like a drumbeat. She gasped, her lungs flooding with cold air. Faint footsteps pad-pat beyond the stones. She whipped around. Tall trunks watched her in silence. No shape of foot or hand. Her pulse tightened. She rose, pivoted back to the altar. The drumming in her head built heat behind her eyes. The wind dropped. Silence filled the gaps. The wildflowers stilled, petals closing. Darkness pooled beneath the trees. She whispered the unknown benefactor’s name, as if that might coax an answer. The grove offered no reply. Shivering, she slid her palm over the stone’s face, tracing grooves she barely saw in the gloom. A shape detached itself from the shadowed tree line—a slender form hunched over, limbs too long. She froze. The pendant plunged into her flesh again, fierce and warm. She yanked it away. The stone in her hand glowed bright where it touched her skin, then returned to its usual dim crimson. She stumbled backward. The figure watched from between two trunks. Its head tilted, no human grace in the gesture. She switched on her flashlight. The beam cut across the clearing, dull white. Nothing. Just the stones, the altar, the wildflowers. A breeze bent them aside. Maybe she’d imagined the shape. Maybe the wind had started somewhere farther off. She squared her shoulders, raised her voice. “I know you’re there.” Silence. Then a rasp on the air, like fingers dragged along bark. She spun the light in a slow circle. The undergrowth shivered. Leaves parted. Two pale eyes blinked at her. She ducked, shining the beam upward. Fae folk in the old tales had eyes too large, too bright. These set too high, too far apart. She stood, heart stuttering. The eyes vanished. The beam settled on the altar. The grooves she’d traced glowed faint red. Symbols she couldn’t read. The pendant pulsed in her pocket, urging. She swallowed. Reached in. Wet with sweat, her fingers closed around the chain. She tugged it free. The gem’s inner light slithered out, pooling on the stone like spilled wine. The breast of the grove throbbed. The flowers lifted their heads, turning toward the altar in unison. The air hummed, a deep resonance she felt in her bones. The earth beneath her feet shivered. A whisper emerged, a sigh of voices overlapping. She spun, chest tightening. The trees pressed in, trunks aligned in concentric rings. The ancient oaks themselves bent toward her. Bark cracked. Tendrils of shadow peeled from their forms. A figure stepped forward. Unsettlingly human. Tall, lean, with straggled black hair and bright blue eyes just like hers. Lungs tightened. The figure mimicked her expression, right down to the crescent-shaped scar on the left wrist. Rory’s scar. Her heart cracked. The pendant flared in her hand, burning bright. She held it between them. The portal waited behind the figure—a gash of shimmering air between trees, black at the center, the edges rippling. The double raised a hand. Fingertips quivered in the dim light. Rory backed toward the altar. Roots curled onto the stone platform, brushing her ankles. She lurched free, stumbling over petals that rattled like bones. A voice echoed, low and hollow. You shouldn’t have come. It was her own voice, warped. She clutched the pendant, pointed it at the portal. The gem pulsed once, then exploded into silent light. Every shadow contracted, recoil from the glare. The portal flared blue-white, ripples chalked in the air. She dashed forward, shouting a curse. Roots entwined her legs, but the light from the pendant severed them, one by one. She lunged through the shimmering veil. The world dissolved. She landed on soft grass under a sky that roiled with strange stars. The portal blinked shut behind her. Silence fell. The pendant lay at her feet, its glow faded to a dull ember. Her chest rose and fell in ragged arcs. She pushed to her knees, hands pressed to the ground. Her reflection shimmered on the grass before her—bright blue eyes, straight black hair, the scar glinting on her wrist. No double. No twisted echo. Just her, alone in this new night. Thunder rolled. The wildflowers here glowed pale as bone. A breeze carried laughter on its back. Rory climbed to her feet. She crushed the pendant in her palm. Its light winked out. She took her first step away from the portal, each footfall hushed in the unearthly grass. Somewhere behind her, the portal might still stand. Or the grove might swallow it whole. She didn’t look back. She only walked forward into the dark.