Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR2Z2NG9PY7AWQGHZ0SF2D

Aurora stepped through the rough ring of oak standing stones, their bark gnarled like the hands of ancient sentinels. The moon hung low, its silver wash meagre against the dense canopy of Richmond Park, casting smears of dark and light across the ground. She felt the faint tug pulse from the Heartstone pendant nestled against her chest, a warmth rising from the deep crimson gem as if it remembered something she did not. The air smelled of damp earth and wildflowers blooming out of season, their perfume thick and sweet, yet somehow sour beneath it. The Grove lay still, unnervingly so. Nothing stirred. Not a whisper of wind through the leaves, no rustling of night creatures. Aurora’s footsteps, soft on moss and fallen leaves, felt deafening. She pressed a hand to the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist, the skin puckered and faint in the moonlight. It was steady, her scar, a relic of a childhood accident; but here, the steady beat of her pulse was the only sure thing. Her eyes scanned the shadows between the trunks. The wildflowers seemed too vivid, glowing faintly with colours she had no words for, petals curling and uncurling as if watching. She swallowed hard, tightening her grip on the silver chain holding the pendant. “I’m here for a reason,” she murmured, voice low and tense, cracking like dry twigs beneath her breath. “And that reason isn’t to fall apart in the dark.” The Grove seemed to lean in. Shapes shifted just beyond her vision, thin and blurred—branches? Or something else? Every time she locked eyes onto a shape, it dissolved, leaving only the thick, ever-present night. A soft snap echoed somewhere far to her left. Not loud enough to be a snap of a twig underfoot, but distinct enough that Aurora froze, every muscle coiled. She waited, breath stilled, but only silence answered. Her bright blue eyes drilled into the darkness. “Who’s there?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. Not a breath. Not a response. She moved, careful now, slow steps threading across the carpet of flowers and leaves. The pendant pulsed warmer like a heartbeat against her skin, an anxious drum in the hushed quiet. The Grove’s stillness felt like a trap closing. To her right, the shadows shifted again, thinner this time like wisps of smoke curling with purpose. Aurora spun, the faint silver chain catching moonlight. Too fast to be a bird or fox. She squinted. “Show yourself.” No answer came, only the scent of wildflowers surging thickly in the air like breath stolen from elsewhere. Her fingers brushed the pendant, fingers curling tightly around it. The gem pulsed hotter now, a red glow bleeding under the silver claws that held it. Behind her, a faint shuffle, like footsteps on dry leaves. She whipped around, chest tight with ice-cold adrenaline. The clearing was empty. A breeze flicked through the branches, carrying a soft voice that wasn’t quite a word, almost a sigh—a sound that slipped past memory’s edge with cruel teasing. Her thoughts jerked back to Evan, to the nights she'd fled running, to Eva's voice telling her to dive into the unknown. But this was different. Something waited. Every instinct screamed. “What do you want?” Her voice cracked now, brittle with its own terror. Time bled differently here, she thought. A single hour in the Grove could spin into days outside. But now, the minutes hung stretched thin, like taffy pulled too far, leaving her isolated in a pocket of shadow and silence. Then came the slow, deliberate sound of footsteps—soft, measured, circling. Outside the standing stones, life would rove overflowing, but here the steps made no sound on the leaf-carpeted floor. A lean figure stepped just beyond the trees. Not detailed, only a dark smear against blackness. It was tall. Too tall. Aurora’s breath hitched. She lifted a trembling hand with the pendant. The figure paused, then moved closer, edges sharpening: thin, elongated limbs. Skin pale and luminescent. Eyes? She couldn't see. Her throat closed tight. “Why are you here?” she said without hope. Silence. Then, the figure tilted its head with a strange, unnatural grace, the only movement before it blurred and vanished like smoke extinguished. The Grove pulsed with something cold beneath its surface, like frozen water veined with shadows beneath the earth. Aurora’s skin prickled. A shiver ran under her collar, reaching down her spine. The night dragged weighty on her lungs, thick with voices she could not hear, whispers just out of reach. She started to walk, seeking an edge, an exit. The path behind the stones was gone, swallowed into the woods. Panic pressed cold and insistent. Her pace quickened. Another sound: a dry rasp, like fingertips scraping bark far too soft. She nearly stumbled. “Show yourself!” Her voice cracked, brittle and sharp through the stillness. Branches twitched just beyond the corner of her vision. Shapes crowded at the edge—many pairs of gleaming eyes, watching, waiting, but never stepping forward. The Heartstone warmed against her chest, throbbing with urgent heat. Suddenly, a pulse of it cast a faint red glow on the dirt beneath her feet, tracing strange patterns that flared before fading like breath on glass. Her mouth went dry. The trees seemed to lean closer, closing ranks, enclosing her in a living cage. She reached into her pocket and found the crumpled photo Eva had handed over weeks ago—a blurred face, and scrawled on the back in Eva’s handwriting: “Find the truth before it’s too late.” Aurora swallowed a sob she refused to let out. She had come chasing closure, answers to a past that clawed beneath her skin. Now, the Grove whispered its own warning: some truths exist merely as shadows; some doors open only to darkness. A final stark movement caught her eye—the shimmer of silver. The pendant, glowing fiercely now, lighting her trembling hand, pulsing with a silent urgency that felt like a heartbeat drawing breath in the dark. Behind her, the footsteps closed in.