Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR1T5AGRT8B9AMX2MKN3VM

The air in the Fae Grove clung thick and damp to Rory’s skin as she stepped past the ancient oak standing stones. The boundary hummed against her fingertips, a vibration that set her teeth on edge. She shouldn’t be here. Not at night. Not alone. But the Heartstone pendant pulsed against her collarbone, warm and insistent, guiding her deeper into the clearing. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in fractured silver beams, casting long, shifting shadows across the wildflowers that shouldn’t have been blooming in November. Their petals glowed faintly, an eerie bioluminescence that made the grove feel like it was breathing. Rory tightened her grip on the strap of her bag, the leather creaking under her fingers. A twig snapped behind her. She spun, heart hammering. Nothing. Just the sway of ferns in a breeze that didn’t touch her skin. "Get it together," she muttered, forcing her shoulders to relax. The pendant was leading her somewhere—toward the center, where the stones stood tallest. That was the point. Find the thing the stone wanted her to see, then get out. Simple. Except the grove didn’t feel simple tonight. The rustle came again, this time to her left. Not wind. Something deliberate. A whisper of movement just beyond the edge of sight. Rory exhaled sharply through her nose and kept walking, eyes fixed ahead. The less she acknowledged it, the less real it would be. That was how these things worked. The air grew heavier. The scent of crushed petals and wet earth thickened, cloying, sticking in the back of her throat. The pendant’s warmth flared, sharp enough to make her wince. Then—laughter. Soft. Distant. A child’s giggle, light and carefree, skittering between the trees. Rory froze. The sound didn’t belong. Not here. Not in this place where time twisted like a wrung-out rag. She swallowed hard, fingers drifting to the pendant. The crimson gem pulsed in time with her heartbeat. "Hello?" Her voice sounded too loud, too human in the unnatural quiet. Silence. Then— A breath against the back of her neck. She whirled, stumbling back a step. Empty air. Just the grove, watching her with its too-bright flowers and patient, waiting stones. The giggle came again, closer now. Rory’s pulse thundered in her ears. "I know you’re there." No answer. Only the slow, creeping sensation of being studied. Something in the dark, just beyond the light. A shadow moved—no, not a shadow. A shape. Small. Hunched. Darting between the trees with a speed that wasn’t right. The pendant burned against her skin. She took a step back. "Show yourself." The thing stopped. It stood at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden by the undergrowth. Too small to be a person. Too still to be an animal. Its silhouette wavered, flickering like a reflection in disturbed water. Then it turned its head. Rory’s breath caught. No face. Just a smooth, featureless stretch of skin where eyes and mouth should have been. The thing raised a hand—too long, too many fingers—and beckoned. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. The weight of the grove pressed down on her, holding her in place. The pendant seared into her chest, a sudden, vicious heat. The thing tilted its head. And then— It stepped forward. Rory bolted. Branches lashed at her arms as she tore through the grove, the laughter rising behind her, high and delighted. The standing stones loomed ahead, their ancient carvings glowing faintly in the dark. She didn’t look back. Didn’t dare. The air twisted. The ground lurched beneath her feet. And then—silence. The grove was gone. Rory stood in the empty park, the first light of dawn bleeding across the sky. Her breath came in ragged gasps, the pendant cold and still against her skin. A single wildflower lay crushed beneath her boot. It shouldn’t have been blooming.