Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR5RVWV9VQ2VG3KRH3695A

Aurora stepped past the moss-choked oak stones and felt the air tighten around her chest. The lantern in her left hand swung with each heartbeat, casting bent shadows between blossoms that shivered under moonlight. She brushed a strand of black hair off her face and glanced at the Heartstone Pendant against her collarbone. A faint warmth throbbed there—like a pulse rising from the silver chain. She paused. Even the crickets dared not speak. “They said it would lead me to the portal,” she whispered, but her breath caught before the last word. The grove remained silent, as though it held its breath too. She set the lantern atop a flat stone, knuckles whitening around its handle, and crouched. The grass felt damp against her jeans. She pressed a palm to the earth. Tiny flowers trembled beneath her fingertips, their petals too perfect to belong in a place this late in the year. A scent drifted upward: wet wood and something rancid, like bruised fruit. She stood and swung the lantern in a circle. The glow fell across the standing stones, carved rings worn nearly smooth. Beyond them, the trees pressed tight, branches twisting like fingers reaching for skin. She lifted the pendant. Its crimson heart glowed faintly now, pulsing under her palm. “Hello?” She spoke the word as though testing the night. She swallowed and raised the lantern higher, searching. Something cracked behind her. She spun. Dark shapes leapt between trunks. She stomped a foot, ready for whatever might reply, but the only answer arrived in a low sigh—too human to be wind. Aurora dropped the lantern to her side. She leaned forward, scanning. The stones formed a rough circle. Within them, the ground was bare, as if nothing would grow where a portal waited. She stepped inside and felt a tremor underfoot. She planted her boots, steadied her weight. The pendant pulsed again, wrist against chest. She rubbed at the scar on her left wrist and forced a breath out. “Stay calm,” she told herself. A branch snapped to her right. She seized the lantern, heart hammering. Nothing moved. She dropped to one knee and lifted a stone slab near the edge of the circle. Beneath, clay soil pressed cool against her palm. She dug in, fingertips tracing a seam. The ground seemed unusually soft. She pried the slab free. Air hissed out, carrying a hollow echo. She knelt on her other knee and shined the lantern down. A shaft of moonlight revealed a narrow shaft—black and yawning. Her pulse kicked in. She sucked air through her teeth. She backed up and scrabbled for her phone. Silence. No signal. She pinched her eyes shut and counted to ten. When she opened them, the grove seemed to lean inward, branches drooping, flowers bowing as if burdened by some unseen weight. She pressed a hand to a standing stone and slid down to the ground. The stone felt warm, almost breathing. She laid her head against it. The lantern light bobbed where she dropped it. The pendant warmed against her chest like it recognized her fear. “It can’t be here,” she said. “Not now.” A rasp drifted through the clearing. She sat up, spine straight. The rasp formed words. “You should not have come.” Aurora froze. She pressed her back against the stone. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Who’s there?” Silence. Then a scraping, like claws dragging across bark. Something moved behind the oaks. She raised the lantern again. Its light wobbed, revealing nothing but darkness. She swallowed. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She yanked it out, screen cracked but alive. The display read “1 New Message.” She tapped it with trembling fingers. From Eva: “You okay? It’s late.” Aurora set the phone down without reading. She needed to move. She climbed to her feet, snatching the lantern. The pendant throbbed like a warning. She stepped beyond the stones and heard a rustle at the grove’s edge. She stopped. Warm breath brushed her ear. She jumped and spun. The lantern’s beam caught nothing but tree trunks and tangled undergrowth. She exhaled. Dirt shifted at her feet. She looked down: footprints, too large for her boots, pressed into the soil. They led deeper into the grove, toward a stand of birch trees that gleamed white in the lantern’s glow. Aurora followed. Each step felt heavier. The wildflowers bowed and quivered as she passed. The air grew sticky, charged with the scent of wet earth and something older—darker. The birch trunks curved in awkward angles, as if recoiling. She stopped beneath a leaning tree. Its bark gaped like a mouth. The pendant pulsed again and she lifted it. A silver glint caught her eye at the base of the trunk. She knelt and brushed away leaves. A small metal ring, attached to nothing. She tugged; it came free. She traced initials etched into the ring: A.C. She trembled. The initials on the ring matched her name. She pressed it to her chest, staring. A sigh drifted through the branches. It sounded like her own voice. Aurora stood, chest tight. The lantern tilted and she fought to steady it. The trees shifted, their shadows weaving. She backed away and stumbled over a root. The lantern tumbled, clattered against a stone, and rolled off, plunging its flame into the grass. Darkness swallowed her. She yanked out a lighter. Flick. A pale flame shivered to life. She raised it and spotted the ring balanced on a slender root. Beneath, the soil had scraped bare around a thin wire—black and glistening. It wound toward the standing stones. She plucked the ring and followed the wire up to the nearest stone. It disappeared into a hairline crack. She squeezed the stone, dented metal gave beneath her fingers. She peeled the surface away like bark. Inside, a glint of silver wire coiled around a hollow core. Something whispered in her ear. “Pull.” Her scalp prickled. She jerked her head and the whisper vanished. She reached inside the stone and yanked the wire free. Sparks jumped along its length. She jerked back. The wire throbbed with energy, humming against the air. The ground vibrated under her boots. She pressed her palm to the stone. It felt alive—heartbeat beneath her skin. She yanked her hand free; her nails scraped concrete. A thin red line snaked across the stone’s surface. She ran her tongue against her lips. She tightened her grip on the lighter and darted away from the circle. The grove shivered. Faint laughter rippled through the oaks. She stumbled toward the flat stone where she left the lantern. The lighter guttered. She knelt, set the flame near the lantern’s remains. A wisp of smoke curled up and stung her eyes. The flame caught the ragged wick and bloomed. She exhaled. Light flared, chasing back the dark. She paused, listening. The grove held a strange stillness now, as if waiting. She pressed the ring into her pocket and reached for her phone. Three new messages. She tapped and read Eva’s third: “Aurora, call me.” Her thumb hovered. She turned to face the standing stones, the wires spilling from the cracked oak like roots, trailing into darkness. The pendant pulsed hot against her throat. She cleared her voice and spoke to the stones, though no one stood there but trees. “I’m not leaving without answers.” A breeze stirred. Leaves rattled. A shape slipped between two trunks—taller than any man, limbs too long, head tilted at an impossible angle. It watched her. The lantern’s glow trembled across its face, marred by deep hollows and a smile that stretched too wide. Aurora froze. Light pulsed from the pendant, brighter now, as if in protest. She reached out, voice trembling only slightly. “Who are you?” The thing tilted its head, lips parting. No sound came. Then, from somewhere behind her, a whisper: “We are waiting.” Aurora’s heart thundered. She swallowed. Fingers clenched the lantern. She took a step back. Branches snapped in a dozen directions. Laughter spiraled up through the canopy. The ring in her pocket warmed to a burn. She lifted the lantern higher. The creature blinked twice, its eyes surfacing as black pits. The wire in the stones sparked once. Then all at once, the grove exhaled a breath so cold Aurora’s knees went weak. She sank to the ground, lantern bobbing between her boots. The pendant flared, scorching through her shirt. The thing advanced, each step silent on carpeted moss. Aurora pulled herself upright. She raised the lantern until flames danced around the creature’s legs. It hesitated. The laughter stilled. The trees paused in their sway. She searched its face, found nothing—no eyelids, no pupils, only shadow. She swallowed again and raised the lighter, flame flaring between them. The creature’s smile widened. And then the world pitched into darkness.