Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR59BHRN4YMSEPVRG6PDCD

Aurora Carter moved quietly through the dense undergrowth of Richmond Park, the moon low and thick overhead. Her footsteps were careful, deliberate, though her mind jittered with a restless anticipation. She clutched the Heartstone Pendant in her palm, its deep crimson hue faintly pulsing in time with her racing heartbeat. The pendant had been her only guide tonight, its faint glow whispering secrets she couldn't quite remember, whispering that somewhere beyond the ancient oak stones, the boundary between worlds thinned. She’d come here at dusk, the fading light casting long, shifting shadows between the trees. Now, darkness had taken root, and the silence pressed around her like wet cloth. Only a faint rustle of leaves betrayed her path—until she stopped dead, an icy prick crawling up her spine. The grove was supposed to be a sanctuary, a hidden pocket between realms, and yet an unshakable wrongness seeped into her bones. Her eyes darted around, searching for the threat that waited. A shadow flickered at the edge of her vision, too fleeting to identify. She held her breath, fingers curling tightly around the pendant's silver chain. From somewhere deeper in the grove, a sound unexpectedly sliced through the night—a faint, intermittent tapping, rhythmic, persistent. Not animal, not wind. Something deliberate. Her hand trembled as she tightened her grip on the pendant, but her instinct screamed to run. She moved forward, slow and cautious, her shoes muffling her steps. The tapping grew louder, more insistent. Every pulse of the Heartstone seemed to synchronize with her racing pulse, and the glow from the pendant flickered faintly, almost afraid. A sudden movement caught her eye. A figure, glimpsed out of the corner of her eye, vanished behind a cluster of wildflowers. She froze, breath shallow. Nothing about the shape felt real—too still, too shapeless. She stiffened, instincts turning sharp, unbidden memories flickering—of stories whispered about the Grove, of eyes that watched from the shadows. The air grew thick, the scent of damp earth and something else—something metallic and cold. It sank into her skin. She told herself it was just her mind, that the Grove played tricks, but her stomach twisted. A flicker of movement—an edge of a figure—danced at the edge of her vision again. She spun around sharply, heart pounding in her ears, and caught a glimpse of a dark form retreating behind the standing stones, gliding just beyond her line of sight. No sound accompanied it, only the faint shuffling of fabric or hide. She clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around the pendant as if it could anchor her. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. "Hey. I know you're there." Silence. The grove responded with a shiver of wind, whispering rustling leaves like secrets passing between branches. She stared at the stones, their ancient, warped faces seemingly watching her. The boundary was close enough that she could feel it—reality wrinkling at the edges. A passing shiver, colder this time, settled into her bones. She pulled her coat tighter around herself. "I'm not leaving until I get what I came for." The tapping resumed, closer now, echoing through her skull. She took a tentative step forward, muscles tense, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. Just beyond the reach of her sight, she sensed something—an awareness, a presence that was not her own. The pendant pulsed more actively now, faint glow casting strange patterns on the ground. She reached out, fingertips brushing the cool silver, feeling the faint warmth under her skin. The pulse quickened, as if the artifact responded to the invisible eyes watching. A movement. A blur slipped past her peripheral vision. Her breath caught, her eyes wide and sharp. No time to think. She spun around to face it, her stance ready but her heart pounding wildly. A figure—human-shaped but distorted—stumbled into a patch of moonlight. Its form flickered like a faulty projection, limbs jerking at odd angles. It was blurry, as if the darkness around it tried to swallow it whole. Her instincts told her to run, but her body refused to move. The figure made a muffled sound—a kind of sibilant whisper, more felt than heard. She saw the faint shimmer of eyes that shone with unnatural light, voids glowing in a face that should have been familiar but was not. She wanted to scream, but her voice lodged in her throat. Instead, she studied it, the details just out of focus, the sense that it was a mirror of her fears. Something not quite right, something wrong—so wrong she couldn’t breathe. The figure lurched forward, limbs jerking and unnatural, as if it struggled against unseen chains. It reached out a hand, fingers elongated, palm open and trembling. She could see the faint outline of claws not visible in the dark—they shimmered at the edge of perception like a mirage. A cold gust whipped through the grove, carrying with it the scent of decay. The tension stretched tight, as if the universe itself refused to hold back its secrets much longer. The figure paused, a silent question hanging in the air. Then it vanished into a ripple in the shadowy blanket of darkness, dissolving as if into mist. No sound, no sign of a struggle. Her throat clenched, breath ragged. Her hand shook as she clutched the pendant more tightly. The faint glow pulsed rhythmically now, as if urging her to leave. Darkness pressed closer around her, every tree and shadow whispering, whispering secrets best left buried. She kept her eyes on the stones, on the faint outline of a shape lurking just beyond the light. In the Grove, time moved differently—an hour could stretch into days or vanish in moments. A faint, almost inaudible scraping sound drifted through the silence, shredding the quiet like broken glass. She froze, heartbeat loud in her ears, staring at the boundary—at the door between worlds she had dared to cross. A voice—soft, distant—called her name from somewhere deep within the shadows. No, not a voice. A whisper, a plea, a haunting melody that sluiced through her thoughts and made her stomach tighten. And she understood—she wasn’t alone. Not in this place, not in her head. Something was watching her. Something waiting. And now, she had no choice but to stand her ground or become a part of the Grove’s endless, silent nightmare.