Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRAM6QQPRQFEM549EB846J

Aurora pressed her palm against the gnarled bark of the central oak and let its rough texture anchor her. The night air felt too still. No breeze carried the wildflowers’ sweetness. No distant hum of traffic. Only the soft thud of her boots on damp earth. Something had drawn her here, but now that she stood inside the circle of ancient stones, she could not remember what it was. She slid one hand beneath her jacket and curled her fingers around the Heartstone Pendant. The silver chain cut cool against her skin. The deep crimson gem held a faint glow. It pulsed once, twice, then stilled. She exhaled. The pulse had meant she moved closer to a Hel portal. That night, she’d chosen this place hoping for guidance. Now the Grove felt wrong. Low branches creaked overhead. She shook her head. Trees did that with the weight of night dew. She tugged at the pendant. It plunged into heat. She raised her free hand to her jaw. “Why here?” she whispered. No answer. Her words swallowed up by the dark. She stepped beyond the oak, towards a patch of moonlit grass. Pale petals hovered on the air like drifting moths. She bent to brush one aside. Its edges curled too sharply, like a blade. She flinched and straightened, heartbeat ticking against her ribs. Footfalls shifted behind her. A snap. Her eyes darted. Branches swayed, but no wind stirred. She spun. White stones gleamed in the gloom. Between them, shadows lurked. She held her breath. “Hello?” Her voice landed flat. No echo. Only the hush of sap rising in the trees. She swallowed, fought the urge to flee. She came here on purpose. She raised the pendant. Its glow faded. Heat vanished. She lowered it and turned back towards the circle. The stones had grown a shade darker, their surfaces slick with moss she did not remember. She walked carefully among them, fingertips grazing their curves. Each stone bore ancient runes. She traced one with a fingertip. The shape sank in, folded away. The wind began then, a slight ripple that lifted stray hairs on her neck. She looked skyward. Moonlight filtered through skeletal branches, pale as candle wax. She counted heartbeats. The wind died. Between two stones, something shifted. A slender shape slipped among trunks—too upright to be a deer. She crouched, toes gripping damp moss. The path she’d used to enter the Grove was gone. Dirt and grass blended into the surrounding woodland. No sign of the trail through Richmond Park’s edge. She rose, jolted. The world inside the circle had retreated from Earth. She swallowed. The pendant pulsed again, but faintly, uncertain. Her fingers itched to pull it free. She tucked it deeper into her shirt. She rubbed the scar on her wrist, a small crescent from long ago. The pain grounded her. She folded her arms. Trees leaned in, silent witnesses. A distant rustle mattered too much. She pivoted. Footsteps whispered from the west. She blinked. Nothing moved. No shape. A thin vine wound around the nearest oak, glinting wet. She knelt and pulled at it. It came loose with a soft pop and landed at her feet. She stared at the leaf—too dark, too glossy. No veins. Just a seamless surface. She set it aside. The pendant warmed faintly. She lifted it again. Between her fingers, the gem glimmered. A light bloomed at its centre then flickered. She closed her eyes. The stone thrummed against her chest. She could orient by its pulse, follow it to the source. She crossed the clearing, careful not to step where moonlight broke the shadows. The grass felt springy. Roots curled underfoot like sleeping serpents. Her chest tightened. Every branch held its breath. She stopped at a ring of tiny wildflowers. They faced inward, petals folded. She knelt beside them, slid her hand over a petal. Soft as silk, yet every edge prickled. She lifted a bloom to her nose. No scent. Only a distant memory of honeysuckle. She tucked the flower into her hair. A voice sighed behind her. Soft and hollow, like air through a keyhole. “You shouldn’t be here.” She froze. Heartstone dropped to her palm, swinging against her wrist. She flicked it aloft, so it caught the moon. The gem pulsed once, a dull beat. The voice drifted closer. “I came on my own,” she said. Mist gathered at the grove’s edge. It wavered between trees, then flared into shape. A tall figure, draped in pale linen that rustled as it moved. No face. Just a blur where features should have been. She shoved herself to her feet. The mist stepped forward. She took a step back. Roots tangled at her ankles. “Let me pass.” A laugh rolled out, distant and close at once. It shifted tone like a broken song. The figure did not reply. It raised an arm—she glimpsed fingers too long for human hands. She tugged her foot free, stumbled backward. The stones behind her winked out of moonlight. Darkness pooled between them. The voice touched her ear. “The Heartstone trembles.” She drew a breath. Pressed the pendant to her lips, then against her heart. She backed toward the oldest oak. Up close she saw runes carved deep. She flattened her palm over one. The wood pulsed beneath her. She tightened her grip. “Stay away.” Her words echoed. The mist figure paused, then swirled forward. It moved faster than she expected. She flinched, dropped the pendant. It clattered on stone. She dove for it, slammed into the oak. Bark gouged her shoulder. She gritted her teeth, rolled to her side. The Heartstone lay where chipped moss met lichen. Its glow flickered. She crawled, chest scraping dirt. Fingers closed over cool silver. The gem pulsed strong. She yanked it to her mouth and chewed against the chain. Brightness flared, white-hot. She shielded her eyes. Light withdrew, leaving her crouched in the dark. She blinked. The figure hovered a pace away. The linen dripped mist that vanished before it hit the ground. Her chest shook. “You defy the boundary,” it whispered. She drew a line in the earth with her toe, chipped stones tumbling. “Then send me back.” The figure inclined its head. A breeze stirred—carried a scent of rotten fruit and cold metal. She swallowed. The grove shifted. Stones tilted inward, roots rose to block her path. She shoved at a stone. It did not budge. She glared at the figure. It stretched one arm across the circle, fingers brushing the runes. A deep rumble pulsed underfoot. She stepped back, but stumbled over the vine she’d tossed away. It wound around her ankle. She yanked. Leaves burst from the vine like sparks. She bit back a cry. She yanked free and landed on her knees. Mud spattered her trousers. The figure knelt, leaning close. The mist coalesced into a hand that hovered over the Heartstone. She clutched it to her chest. The gem pulsed, then dimmed. Its faint glow resembled a dying pulse. The figure whispered again, so close her ear caught every breath. “Time unravels.” She shook her head, chest heaving. A distant owl called, its cry a panic. She blinked. Mist retreated. The grove’s boundary snapped back to its original shape. Stones realigned. Roots sank. Moonlight spilled in. She sat on the ground, clutching the pendant. Her knees trembled. She stared at the figure. It looked human now—torn edges where linen should hide flesh. Eye sockets empty, but she sensed it watching. “This realm shifts,” it said. Voice lower. Grave. Aurora pressed the scar on her wrist, her pulse hammering. She forced herself upright. She held out the Heartstone. “I want out.” It extended a hollow palm. The gem pulsed once and slid into the figure’s hand. Skin closed around it. Runes on the stones glowed a pale blood-red. Shadows quivered. She lurched backward, nearly tripping. The figure rose. A shaft of moonlight hit its face, and she saw a mouth stretched too wide, teeth thin as needles. She froze. The grove stilled. Then the figure smiled. Its lips curled back in a grin that swallowed light. No sound came. Only the taste of fear curling at her tongue. She lifted a foot to run. Roots knotted behind her, stopping her. She glanced over her shoulder. The circle constricted. The oak stones leaned in. A silhouette stepped from the darkness—a second figure, smaller, maybe a child, but tall enough to pass as adult. It wore leaves as a cloak. Its eyes glowed faintly green. Aurora swallowed. The world tilted. She called out. No answer. The stones glared. The first figure drifted closer, its grin widening. The second reached for her. She braced herself. Shadows folded around her. Moonlight dropped away.