Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR35R9JYSHMXHYFEWKSE0C

Aurora Carter pushed through the dense, tangled branches of Richmond Park, her footsteps muffled by damp moss and fallen leaves. The moon hung low, casting a sickly pallid light through the skeletal limbs of ancient oaks. She had come here late, driven by a need to touch something real, something unexplainable. The Heartstone Pendant burned softly against her chest, a faint pulse of warmth that seemed to demand she reach this particular clearing. She kept her eyes trained ahead, but the shadows felt thick and animate, moving with their own intent. The silence was oppressive, like the woods were holding their breath. “Just a quick look,” she muttered under her breath, voice lost in the hush. Her boots squished onto the soft ground, the quiet stretched so long it became a roar in her ears. The ancient oak standing stones loomed into view, their knotted, gnarled forms like silent sentinels guarding secrets of an age gone dark. Aurora hesitated. She’d been here a dozen times before—unlaced her fingers at the edges of the stones, taken a breath, and left—never this late, never with a feeling that she was walking into something beyond her understanding. But tonight, something gnawed at her. A whisper crawling beneath her skin, sharp and cold, nudging her forward. She hesitated for a fragile second before stepping between the stones, passing underneath an arch formed by their intertwined branches. Time felt elastic. Her pulse quickened, each beat echoing louder against the hollowed silence. The pendant’s faint glow throbbed, spilling muted crimson beneath her collar. She drew in a shallow breath, the scent of earth and something metallic lingering in the air. Then she heard it. A slight rustle, behind her. Aurora spun around sharply. Nothing. The shadows stayed still, as if waiting. She blinked, trying to shake the creeping unease. "Probably just a squirrel," she muttered, voice thin. She moved toward the centre of the grove, where wildflowers bloomed stubbornly despite the season, their petals shimmering in the uneven moonlight. She knelt briefly, fingering the soft leaves, when she saw the faintest distortion at the corner of her vision. Her eyes snapped up, scanning desperately, but the shadows curled and withdrew before her gaze settled on them. A shiver traced her spine. "Get a grip." Her fingers brushed against the chilled metal of the Heartstone pendant, its faint glow a steady pulse in her palm. She recalled the stories—about the Grove, about the boundary that one crossed into something unnatural. About whispers that came from the other side. A sharp sound broke the stillness—a whisper, distant but clear, whispering her name. Rory. She froze, heart hammering. Her eyes darted around, searching for the source, yet nothing looked out of place. Only the gnarled branches and flickering shadows. The whispering grew louder now, beckoning, slithering into her mind’s edges. “Who’s there?" she managed, voice trembling. No answer. From the corner of her eye, something flickered. Movement—light, flickering faintly, just at the limits of her sight. She clenched her jaw, fighting the instinct to turn, to look directly at it. A sound—a faint, rhythmic tapping—began, slow and deliberate, somewhere just beyond her reach. It echoed lightly through the trees, like footsteps, but too irregular, too distant. Her hand went to her pocket, fingertips closing around her phone. A quick call or a text. No service. Of course. The pendant's glow intensified, casting a low glow on her face she could no longer ignore. A warmth, then a prickling—like icy fingers crawling up her skin from beneath the surface. She reined in her breath, trying to steady herself. Nothing was real. Nothing was there. Just her imagination. A sudden rustling came from her left, sharp, unnatural. She spun that way, eyes narrowing, dread pooling in her stomach. A shadow shifted—an outline, flickering like a flame in the north wind. The faint silhouette of a figure, tall and barely there, indistinct yet undeniably watching. Rory steadied her voice, fighting the tremor. "Who's there? Show yourself." Silence. Then, a whisper again, closer this time. Not quite words, more like a hiss: "Come closer." She backed up a step, her mind racing. The pendant felt warm again, almost humming with life. The stories she’d heard about the Grove, the strange boundary—something refused to stay quiet tonight. “What do you want?” she called out, voice steadier, but a flame of adrenaline flickered behind her eyes. The figure moved—no, flickered—just beyond the edge of her perception, like a shadow caught in a current, too quick to grasp. The air grew colder, heavier. Something strange pressed on her skull, a whisper of sensation that made her teeth grind. She clenched her fists, took a half step back. Her fingers brushed the pendant again, felt the faint pulse, and remembered what Eva had warned her about: these woods—this place—was dangerous when its secrets got disturbed. A flicker in the trees. A shape that was never quite still. Rory’s voice came out more insistently. “I don’t want trouble. I’m just—” The whispering grew into a chorus. Not words anymore, but a static hum that made her ears throb. The feeling of being observed sharpened. Her muscles tightened. Then, a movement. A ripple at the edge of her vision. A figure, just beyond the line where shadows ended and darkness began. Too still, yet not. Watching. She clenched her teeth. The pendant’s glow brightened as if in response. Footsteps. Light, faint, almost teasing, but unmistakable. And suddenly, she remembered. The Hunger—what she had read in forbidden texts—those who dwelled in this place fed on fear, on doubt. They hid behind illusions, flickering at the corners of perception. Rory took a step back, eyes fixed on whatever was waiting beyond her limit of sight. Her mind raced for an answer, for a sign, but all she could feel was the cold breath of the unseen approaching. The narrow boundary stretched thin, something lurking just inside the dark, waiting for her to step across. She hesitated, heart pounding. The pendant throbbed in her hand, faint but persistent. A final whisper fluttered through the air. “Stay… or stay away.”