Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR3SQV2QCCKS5RZPKC2DQV

The crescent moon hung like a ghostly scar in the night sky as Aurora approached the edge of Richmond Park. The iron-wrought gates had been closed hours ago, but she knew another way in—a gap in the fence behind the old groundskeeper's shed that Eva had shown her years ago. "Can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered, squeezing through the narrow opening. Her delivery uniform caught on a jagged edge, and she winced as she heard the fabric tear. The Heartstone Pendant thumped against her chest, warmer than it should be against her skin. Aurora had been having dreams for weeks—vivid, insistent dreams of the standing stones in Richmond Park calling to her. Tonight, the pendant had practically burned against her skin while she'd been delivering noodles, as if urging her toward the park. Dry leaves crunched beneath her trainers as she navigated through the darkness. The usual night sounds of London—distant traffic, occasional sirens—faded with each step deeper into the park. Her phone's torch cast a weak beam ahead, shadows dancing as she walked. The air grew unexpectedly cooler, with an odd stillness that made the hairs on her neck rise. According to the local myths Eva had collected, the standing stones only revealed themselves under certain conditions—moonlight, solstices, or to those specifically summoned. Aurora wasn't sure which category she fell into, but the pendant's insistent warmth suggested she wasn't here by accident. A twig snapped somewhere to her right. Aurora froze, swinging her light toward the sound. Nothing but gnarled oaks and undergrowth. "Just a fox," she reassured herself, continuing forward. "Richmond Park's full of them." But when she lowered her light, she could have sworn the shadows moved differently than they had before—not following her torch's beam but sliding away independently, as if retreating from her presence. The trees thinned, and suddenly there they were—ancient standing stones arranged in a rough circle, their weathered surfaces gleaming faintly in the moonlight. Aurora's breath caught. The historic sites she'd researched mentioned no stone circle in Richmond Park. Yet here it stood, massive and undeniable. The Heartstone grew painfully hot against her skin as she approached the boundary. "Hello?" she called, her voice sounding thin and fragile in the unnatural quiet. "Is anyone here?" No response came, yet the silence itself felt expectant, as if the darkness were listening intently. Aurora stepped between two of the towering stones, crossing the threshold into what locals called the Fae Grove. The change was subtle but immediate—the air smelled different, heavy with the scent of flowers that shouldn't bloom in autumn. The temperature shifted, neither warmer nor colder but somehow both at once. The pendant's heat subsided to a gentle pulse. She'd found what it wanted her to find. Wild flowers carpeted the clearing, their petals luminous under moonlight that seemed brighter inside the circle than out. At the center stood a flat stone altar, smooth and unmarked. Aurora checked her phone—no signal, as expected. The screen showed 11:42 PM. She made a mental note, remembering Eva's warnings about time flowing strangely within the Grove. She approached the altar, drawn by some compulsion she couldn't name. The pendant swung forward as she bent to examine the stone surface, as if pulled by an invisible force. That's when she noticed the first wrongness. The flowers, which appeared to wave in a gentle breeze, moved against the air current she felt on her skin. As if they responded to winds from another place entirely. "Right," she whispered, "definitely not normal." A rustling sound came from behind her. Aurora spun, torch raised, but the beam revealed only empty air where she was certain something had moved. The pendant pulsed in time with her quickening heartbeat. She clutched it, finding the familiar contours of the crimson stone reassuring. "I'm here," she announced to the empty Grove, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. "You've been calling me, and I came. What do you want?" The words echoed strangely, seeming to bounce back from multiple directions, overlapping until they became unintelligible whispers that lingered too long. Aurora took a steadying breath. The crescent scar on her wrist tingled—a sensation she hadn't felt since the night she'd fled from Evan. Something brushed against her ankle. She jumped back, swinging her light downward. The flowers had parted, creating a perfect circle of bare earth around her feet. As she watched, they continued to recede, like a tide drawing back from shore. "Stop," she commanded, surprised when the movement immediately ceased. The silence deepened. Even the distant London sounds that should have penetrated this far into the park were absent. Aurora realized she couldn't even hear the familiar white noise of wind in leaves. A soft, melodic humming began. Not from any direction she could pinpoint—it seemed to emanate from the stones themselves, a barely-there vibration that resonated in her chest. The pendant answered, its pulse strengthening until it felt like a second heartbeat against her skin. Shadows pooled at the base of the standing stones, deeper than the darkness surrounding them. Aurora's light couldn't penetrate these patches of perfect black. As she watched, one shadow stretched, elongating along the ground like spilled ink, reaching toward the altar at the center. "Who's there?" she called, backing away from the approaching darkness. Her back hit something solid—one of the standing stones, though she was certain she'd been in the center of the clearing. The humming changed pitch, taking on an almost questioning tone. The pendant grew painfully hot again, and Aurora fought the urge to rip it from her neck. "What do you want from me?" Her voice sounded small and very human in this ancient, other place. The elongated shadow paused in its advance. Then, impossibly, it began to rise from the ground, forming a column of darkness that slowly took shape—not quite human, taller and more slender, with proportions that made Aurora's eyes strain to comprehend. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to steady herself. When she opened them, the shadow was gone. But something brushed against her hair, like fingers gently tucking a strand behind her ear. Aurora's breath caught. She spun, sweeping her torch in a wide arc. Nothing. A whisper came, so close it might have been inside her own head: "Malphora." The name sent a shock through her system. She'd never heard it before, yet it resonated with something deep within her, like the echo of a forgotten memory. "I'm Aurora," she said firmly, grounding herself in her identity. "Aurora Carter." A soft sound like laughter rippled through the Grove. The flowers began to glow with a pale blue light, illuminating the clearing better than her torch. She clicked it off, watching as patterns formed in the blossoms—swirls and whorls that seemed to be writing in a language she almost recognized. The pendant pulled forward again, straining toward the altar. Aurora reluctantly approached it once more. The stone surface was no longer blank—intricate symbols carved themselves into the rock as she watched, the fresh grooves filling with what looked like liquid moonlight. The humming intensified, vibrating through her bones. Aurora felt eyes upon her—not one pair but many, watching from between the trees beyond the standing stones, from gaps in the air itself that hadn't been there moments before. She glanced at her phone. The screen read 11:43 PM. Only a minute had passed, yet it felt like hours. "Malphora," came the whisper again, from everywhere and nowhere. The pendant jerked violently, snapping its chain. Before Aurora could catch it, the Heartstone landed on the altar, fitting perfectly into a depression that formed to receive it. Immediately, the air changed—pressure dropping as if before a storm. The standing stones began to glow with the same inner light as the flowers, revealing runes carved into their surfaces that matched those appearing on the altar. The shadows between the stones deepened further, and within them, Aurora glimpsed movement—tall, elegant figures with features she couldn't quite focus on, watching her with ancient, patient hunger. One stepped forward, extending a hand of impossible proportions, fingers too long and joints too numerous. Its face remained in shadow, but Aurora felt its gaze like a physical touch. "Return to us," it said in a voice that wasn't quite sound but pure meaning flowing into her mind. "The veil thins. Your time of wandering ends, Malphora." The pendant pulsed on the altar, its crimson light spreading in veins through the stone, connecting to the runes, which began to rotate and shift. Aurora felt a pull like gravity shifting sideways, urging her toward the extended hand and the darkness beyond. The crescent scar on her wrist burned as if freshly cut. With sudden clarity, she understood the pendant hadn't led her here—it had been bringing her back.