Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR5ZHSXC4DRH03PPA4EHKE

The wrongness crept over her slowly. At first, Rory thought perhaps it was just the lateness of the hour messing with her head. But the further she ventured into the Grove, the more the little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, the more she could've sworn eyes watched her from the deep shadow of the ancient oaks. Something about this place wasn't right. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting eerie, shifting shadows across the ground. The standing stones loomed ahead, gnarled and twisted with age. Rory shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her as she neared the boundary of the Grove. She'd been drawn here by whispers of an "otherworldly" grove in Richmond Park. Talk of a place where Fae magic lingered. Where time moved differently. Rory needed to know if the tales were true. To see for herself. A twig snapped behind her. Rory whirled around, heart pounding. But the shadows revealed nothing. "Get a grip," she muttered, pressing a hand to her racing heart. Damn these stories, getting in her head. Still, curiosity dragged her feet forward until she stood before the towering oaks, their branches gnarled like arthritic fingers reaching for the starlit sky. Injust in front of the stones, Rory stopped, a strange reluctance seizing her. She glanced down at the Heartstone pendant resting against her chest. Its crimson surface pulsed faintly, the inner glow intensifying. It seemed to be guiding her to this place. But why? "Fuck it," Rory whispered. If she didn't do this now, she never would. On a deep breath, she crossed over, stepping between two of the giant oak sentinels. The air shimmered and rippled, like passing through an invisible waterfall. Goosebumps raced along Rory's skin. She emerged on the other side, into the true Grove. And froze. The clearing was just as she'd heard - wildflowers carpeting the ground in a vibrant tapestry that shouldn't exist at this time of year. Glowing fireflies zipped and twirled about the glade in dizzying patterns. But the beauty was tainted by the oppressive weight of thedim, creeping feeling of wrongness. Rory felt...unwelcome here. Like she was being warned off. "Or invited in," a small voice in her head whispered. A shiver traced her spine. I shouldn't be here. The thought blindsided Rory. She turned to retrace her steps to the comforting normalcy of the real world. Except the standing stones were gone. Rory blinked, spinning in a slow circle. No oaks, no archway out. Just endless forest pressing in on her. Her heart rate spiked, palms slicking with nervous sweat. She was trapped here. A scream sliced through the deathly hush, chilling the blood in Rory's veins. She whirled toward the sound, instinctively reaching for a weapon she didn't have. The echoes faded. The scream hadn't come from a human throat. Bird, she told herself. Just a bird. She didn't believe it. Rory edged forward, compelled by some force she couldn't name. The wildflowers seemed to glow brighter, enticing her deeper into the grove's heart. A childlike part of her longed to dance among them, to twirl and laugh. But the logical part screamed at her to run, to flee before it was too late. She didn't know how long she walked in the strange twilight gloaming. Long enough for her feet to ache. She paused, looking down at her feet. The wildflowers had crept over her boots, twining around her ankles like small, botanical hands trying to drag her down. With a startled yelp, Rory stumbled back, ripping the verdant vines from her legs with desperate hands. Her breathing came hard and fast, fogging the chill night air. "Too far," she gasped, ready to turn tail. Except behind her, the forest had changed. Gnarled, spindly branches clawed at the indigo sky, the once-distant fireflies now hovering unnaturally close, suffusing the air with their sickly glow. The trees, the flowers, even the shadows seemed to have spread, to grownwhile she wasn't looking. And the screams came again. Closer this time. Multiple dire calls sounding in some unholy chorus. Humans, animals, something else - Rory couldn't tell. They all blended into a cacophony of pain and terror that set her teeth on edge. The logical voice in her head shrieked at her to move. Rory ran, leaping over shadowy mounds and crashing through brush. Vines snapped at her heels like lashings whips, wicked thorns tearing at her clothes and skin. Up ahead, an outcropping of black stone rose from the forest floor. Resembling the standing stones, the boulders promised safety, a place to catch her breath. Rory sprinted for them, scrabbling up the rocks. Safe for the moment, she crouched, trying to catch her breath. The forest stretched endlessly around her, an undulating carpet of deadly flowers and grasping trees. No escape in sight. No way back. Fear cramped her lungs, making it hard to breathe. This was Fae magic, she realized numbly. Old, powerful. Dangerous. She'd trespassed somewhere she damn well shouldn't have. Time seemed to contract, expand, loop. Minutes passed, or hours. Rory crouched, barely daring to breathe, searching for a path, any path, out of this cursed place. The Heartstone pulsed, warm against her chest, chasing back some of her fear. Were the Fae toying with her, drawing out her fear and confusion for their own amusement? Would they let her go? Beneath her, the boulders began to tremble, to groan. Cracks snaked up the surface of the stone, widening. Rory gasped as one handhold crumbled, sending her sliding several feet down the rockface. She scrabbled for purchase, but the rock continued to break apart, to buckle. With a sharp cry, Rory lost her grip entirely and tumbled to the forest floor, landing hard amidst the grasping flowers. Dazed, she rolled, trying to escape their snaking tendrils. But not fast enough. One wrapped her wrist, pricking deep enough to draw blood with its thorns. The Heartstone pulsed. Once. Twice. On the third beat, a blinding flash of crimson erupted from the gemstone, bathing the grove in its eerie light. The vines recoiled with unnatural hisses, faces in their leaves contorted in agony. Rory staggered to her feet as the vines withered, crumbling to ash. An opening appeared in the trees, the original oaks back, archway clear. The sounds of the forest were muted, hushed. Moving on wooden legs, Rory stumbled toward the exit. She couldn't look away from the Heartstone as she walked, its glow mesmerizing, seeming to draw her forward. One step over the boundary, back in Richmond Park proper, Rory collapsed, chest heaving. The Heartstone's glow faded, though the gem remained warm, comforting against her fluttering pulse. Her breath came in ragged gulps, mind reeling. Whatever just happened, she'd been guided here for a reason. The pendant, the warnings, some part of her whispered. But for what purpose? One thing was certain. She'd just walked through a place of ancient power, of old magic. And it let her go. For now. With shaking hands, Rory hauled herself up, weaving on unsteady legs. She looked back at the standing stones, the Grove just visible beyond them. Part of her swore she saw glowing eyes watching her from the shadows. She hadn't been released yet. Fear was an icepick in her veins, but still she turned and walked away, out of the fae realm, feet leading her back to the mortal world, wholly unprepared for the truths the night would bring.