Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR4247MY7QHE2WPSZHVZ9D

The air outside the flat was thick with the scent of damp earth and something older—something like old blood, clinging to the cold stone walls. Aurora stepped off the pavement, her boots sinking into the grass of Richmond Park, the standing stones of The Fae Grove looming just beyond the treeline. The moment her boots touched the ground, the world tilted. A breath too long. A pause in the wind that shouldn’t exist. She exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the silver chain of the Heartstone Pendant. The crimson gem pulsed faintly, warm against her skin, like a heartbeat in the dark. The grove was supposed to be quiet. Supposed to be safe. The trees shifted. Aurora froze. The branches above her didn’t rustle. No leaves fell. The air didn’t stir. But the shadows did. Thin, shifting things slithered between the trunks, too thin to be branches, too still to be shadows. Her pulse hammered in her throat. She turned slowly, scanning the darkness. Nothing moved. Then the whisper came. Not a sound. A vibration in the air, like a voice that hadn’t been spoken yet. It slithered around her, low and wet, the kind of sound that made her skin prickle. She stumbled back, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the pendant’s glow flickering against her wrist. *"You shouldn’t be here."* Aurora’s blood turned to ice. She didn’t turn around. The whisper came again, closer this time, closer than it should have been. The trees groaned, their bark splitting open like wounds. Something wet dripped from the branches, pooling on the ground. She could see it now—just for a second, before the light faded—dark, veined things moving beneath the leaves, fingers of something unseen reaching out. *"Who are you?"* The voice was hers. Her own lips moving, but no sound came out. The pendant’s glow intensified, casting jagged shadows across the bark. The standing stones loomed, silent sentinels, their ancient faces carved with faces that weren’t there anymore. The air smelled of rust and something sweet, like honey that had been left too long. Aurora’s hands shook. She reached for her phone, but her fingers slipped. The pendant burned brighter. The whisper coiled around her, hot and hungry. *"You don’t belong here."* She turned. The trees parted. Not a clearing. A throat. A mouth of leaves and bark, gaping wide, the edges lined with teeth. The whisper hissed, sharp and alive. Aurora’s breath came in short, sharp bursts. The pendant’s glow pulsed, a warning, a promise. She ran. The ground twisted beneath her, the trees twisting with her. The whisper followed, a living thing in her ears. The standing stones loomed, their faces twisting into something else—something that watched her as she ran, something that didn’t belong in the world. Aurora didn’t look back. She didn’t stop until her lungs burned, until the world blurred and the trees closed in. She collapsed, gasping, her back against the cold stone of the flat’s wall. The pendant burned against her wrist, warm and steady. The whisper faded, but the weight of it lingered. Aurora’s fingers trembled as she pulled the pendant free, cradling it in her palm. The crimson gem pulsed, steady and sure. She exhaled, her breath shaky. She was alive. For now.