Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR10QH00MCTTJMS003JWDA

**Nightfall in the Fae Grove** Aurora Carter, known to few in this hidden corner as Rory, stepped into the Fae Grove as the last wisps of daylight succumbed to the Richmond Park horizon. The ancient oak standing stones, like sentinels of a forgotten era, loomed around her, their silhouettes stark against the twilight sky. The air was heavy with the sweet, perpetual scent of wildflowers, a discordant note in the ominous symphony of nightfall. Rory's bright blue eyes narrowed, her gaze sweeping the clearing with a mixture of trepidation and determination. She had returned to the Grove for a reason, one she couldn't quite justify to herself. The Golden Empress's delivery schedule hadn't brought her here; Eva's urgent, cryptic messages had. _Meet me at the Grove. Come alone. Midnight._ Her hand instinctively found the Heartstone Pendant beneath her jacket, the silver chain cool against her skin. The gemstone's deep crimson seemed to pulsate in harmony with her quickening heart, a sensation she'd grown accustomed to in places like this—where the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. Tonight, however, the warmth it usually comforted her with felt oppressive, like a warning. "Hello?" Rory called out, her voice steady, carrying across the clearing. The only response was the faint hooting of an owl in the distance, a melancholy echo that seemed to underscore her solitude. Shrugging off the feeling, Rory began to circle the perimeter, her footsteps quiet on the soft earth. At the edge of her vision, she thought she saw something flit between the standing stones, but whenever she turned, there was nothing. The wildflowers, usually a vibrant splash of color, now seemed muted, their beauty overshadowed by an aura of unease. As she walked, the silence began to unravel, threads of sound weaving together into an unsettling tapestry: leaves rustling without wind, the creak of trees that might have been settling, but seemed too rhythmic, too deliberate. Each step, each breath, heightened her awareness of being watched, a prickling sensation at the base of her neck that she couldn't shake. Rory halted, spinning around, challenging the darkness to reveal its observers. The moon, now a silver crescent in the sky, cast eerie shadows on the ground, transforming the wildflowers into grasping fingers. She swallowed hard, the pulse in her throat racing in time with the Heartstone. "Aurora, you're making a scene for no one," she muttered, attempting to laugh off the tension. The sound died abruptly in her throat as she caught movement again, this time closer, near the heart of the Grove. Slow, deliberate steps echoed through the clearing, heavy and unnatural, contrasting starkly with the previous whispers of sound. Rory's heart leaped into her mouth; she backed away, her eyes fixed on the point where the footsteps seemed to originate. A figure, indistinct and shrouded, began to take shape beneath the moonlight. "Who's there? Eva, is that you?" Rory's voice barely cleared a whisper, her hand tightening around the Heartstone Pendant as if it might offer protection. The footsteps halted, the figure pausing at the edge of the moon's illumination. The wildflowers around it seemed to lean in, as if sharing a macabre secret. Rory's breath caught in anticipation, but there was only silence, a silence that grew, swelling like a physical presence. In the stillness, Rory moved forward, one cautious step at a time, her eyes locked on the figure. As she approached, the moon dipped behind a cloud, plunging the Grove into darkness so profound it felt tangible. Rory's next step faltered, her hand outstretched, seeking the comfort of a visual anchor in the sudden blackness. "Eva?" she called again, the sound swallowed by the darkness. No response came, but in the enveloping black, Rory felt it: a presence, closer now, right beside her. The air vibrated with an unspoken menace, the wildflowers' scent overpowering, making her head spin. And then, there was light. A soft, ethereal glow emanated from the wildflowers themselves, casting the clearing in an eerie, dreamlike illumination. The figure, now revealed in stark relief, stood inches from Rory, its face— Rory's scream was lost in the sudden, deafening cacophony of the Grove coming alive, the standing stones vibrating with a power that threatened to consume her. In the heart of the chaos, the figure's face remained a blur, a secret withheld at the precipice of revelation. **The world around Rory dissolved into noise and light, leaving only the certainty that she was no longer alone in the Fae Grove.**