Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR2HQTVER9XXCHM80C0MR5

The air shifted as Rory stepped across the threshold of the standing stones. It tugged at her skin, cool and damp, like the breath of something unseen. The grove unfolded before her, wildflowers blooming in impossible colors — deep indigos, shimmering violets, and golds that seemed to catch fire in the dim light. The trees arched overhead, their branches weaving together into a canopy that filtered the sunlight into fractured beams. “This isn’t Richmond Park anymore,” she murmured, her voice swallowed by the strange silence of the place. The pendant around her neck pulsed faintly, a steady warmth against her chest. She glanced down, the deep crimson gemstone glowing brighter as she moved further in. Nyx materialized from the shadows beside her, their form shimmering like smoke. “The Fae Grove exists between realms. Time bends here. An hour could feel like a lifetime.” Their voice was soft, almost musical, carried on a breeze that didn’t stir the leaves. “And Isolde?” Rory asked, her eyes scanning the grove. The silver-haired seer had promised to meet them here, but the clearing was empty save for the wildflowers and the ancient oaks. “She’ll come when she feels it’s time.” Nyx’s violet eyes glowed faintly as they turned their gaze deeper into the grove. “But tread carefully. This place has its own rules.” Rory’s fingers brushed the hilt of the Fae-Forged Blade sheathed at her side. The metal was cold, even through the fabric of her jacket. She took a cautious step forward, the ground soft beneath her boots. Each footfall sank slightly into the moss-covered earth, but the silence remained unbroken, as though the grove itself was holding its breath. “Do you hear that?” Rory paused, her head tilting. A faint hum filled the air, low and resonant, like the vibration of a distant bell. Nyx drifted ahead, their form flickering as they phased between shadows. “It’s the Veil. The boundary between Earth and the Fae realm is thinner here. The sound… it’s the pressure of two worlds pressing against each other.” The hum grew louder as they moved deeper, threading through the trees. Rory’s breath caught as they stepped into a second clearing. In the center stood a pool of water so still it looked like glass. The surface reflected the fractured light above, but there was something unsettling about it. The reflection wasn’t quite right — the trees appeared taller, their leaves sharper, and the sky above shimmered with colors that didn’t exist in the grove. “Don’t touch it,” Nyx warned as Rory knelt by the edge. “Water from the Fae realm has a way of… changing things.” She leaned closer, her reflection staring back at her with eyes that weren’t hers. They were darker, deeper, with a glint of something ancient. She blinked, and her reflection blinked back, but slower, as though it moved to its own rhythm. A chill ran down her spine, and she stood quickly, taking a step back. The grove seemed to shift around them, the air thickening. The hum grew louder, morphing into a low whisper that echoed through the trees. Rory’s grip tightened on the blade. “Whatever happens, don’t separate,” she said, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her chest. Nyx nodded, their form solidifying as they moved closer to her. “Stay close. This place… it likes to play tricks.” They pressed on, the path winding through the grove like a labyrinth. The trees grew denser, their trunks twisting into grotesque shapes. Faces seemed to form in the bark, their expressions frozen in silent screams. Rory forced herself to look away, focusing on the path ahead. The further they went, the more the grove seemed to change. The air grew colder, the colors dimming into shades of gray. The hum faded, replaced by a low growl that seemed to originate from everywhere and nowhere. Rory’s pulse quickened as the shadows deepened, pressing in around them. “Nyx,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Something’s not right.” Before they could respond, the ground beneath her feet shifted. She stumbled, her boots sinking into the moss-covered earth. Vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around her ankles and yanking her down. She gasped, her fingers clawing at the ground as she was pulled towards a gaping hole that had opened in the earth. Nyx lunged forward, their hand solidifying as they grabbed her wrist. “Hold on!” Rory gritted her teeth, the vines tightening around her legs. She fumbled for the blade at her side, her fingers closing around the hilt. With a sharp tug, she pulled it free, the moonsilver blade glowing faintly in the dim light. She swung it down, the blade slicing through the vines with ease. They recoiled, their ends twisting like wounded snakes before retreating into the earth. Nyx pulled her to her feet, their form flickering with unease. “This place… it’s alive. It’s testing us.” Rory’s chest heaved as she caught her breath, her grip tightening on the blade. “Then let’s not give it a reason to kill us.” The path ahead grew darker, the trees closing in like a tunnel. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. Rory’s boots squelched in the mud, the sound unnervingly loud in the oppressive silence. The pendant around her neck pulsed brighter, its warmth spreading through her chest. “We’re close,” Nyx murmured, their voice barely audible. “The heart of the grove… it’s ahead.” Rory nodded, her eyes scanning the shadows. The trees seemed to lean in, their branches twisting into claws that reached for them. She kept the blade ready, her knuckles white around the hilt. The tunnel opened into a massive clearing, the air thick with the scent of wildflowers. In the center stood an ancient oak, its branches stretching high into the sky. At its base, a figure waited — Isolde. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, and her lavender eyes glittered with an otherworldly light. She smiled as they approached, her voice soft and melodic. “You’ve made it. The grove tests all who enter. Few pass.” Her gaze flicked to Rory’s blade, her smile widening. “You wield the Fae-Forged Blade with skill. It suits you.” Rory lowered the blade, her grip easing slightly. “You said you’d meet us here. What was all that?” Isolde’s expression turned enigmatic. “The grove is alive. It seeks to know those who walk its paths. You’ve proven yourselves worthy.” Nyx stepped forward, their form solidifying as they approached the seer. “We need answers, Isolde. The Veil is weakening. Something’s coming.” Isolde’s gaze darkened, her smile fading. “The Veil is old, older than the grove itself. It bends and tears, but it is not without its guardians. Still… there are forces that seek to unravel it.” Her eyes settled on Rory, her expression unreadable. “You carry the Heartstone. It chose you. Do you know why?” Rory’s fingers brushed the pendant, its warmth steady against her skin. “No. But I intend to find out.” Isolde nodded, her gaze sweeping over the grove. “The answers you seek lie beyond the Veil. But be cautious. The path is treacherous, and the shadows… they are not always what they seem.” As she spoke, the grove shifted around them, the air humming with energy. Rory’s grip tightened on the blade, her eyes scanning the shadows. The trees seemed to lean in, their branches twisting into claws that reached for them. Nyx moved closer, their form flickering with unease. “Whatever happens, stay close.” Isolde’s voice carried on the wind, soft and melodic. “The Veil is thin here. Be wary of what lies beyond.”