Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRFPEWVJQCCFD8Q8WZB6E6

The moon hung low, a pale sentinel in the ink-black sky, casting a silvery glow over Richmond Park. Aurora Carter, known to her friends as Rory, stood at the edge of the Fae Grove, her breath visible in the crisp night air. The ancient oak standing stones loomed before her, their gnarled forms casting long shadows that seemed to writhe and twist like living things. She clutched the Heartstone Pendant, its faint warmth a small comfort against the chill that seeped into her bones. Rory had come here for a reason, though the specifics eluded her now, lost in the fog of unease that had settled over her the moment she stepped into the grove. The wildflowers, vibrant even in the dim light, seemed to sway in a breeze she couldn't feel. She took a deep breath, the scent of earth and something sweetly decayed filling her lungs. "Just a quick look," she murmured to herself, her voice barely more than a whisper. "In and out." The pendant pulsed gently against her skin, a rhythmic thrum that matched the beat of her heart. She stepped forward, the grass whispering beneath her feet, and the world seemed to shift around her. Time behaved strangely here, she knew, but tonight it felt particularly disjointed, as if the grove itself was holding its breath. A rustle in the underbrush made her pause, her heart skipping a beat. She scanned the shadows, her bright blue eyes searching for the source of the sound. Nothing moved, yet the feeling of being watched prickled at the back of her neck. She shook her head, trying to dispel the sensation. "Get a grip, Rory," she muttered, forcing her feet to move again. The grove was silent, save for the occasional creak of branches and the distant hoot of an owl. Yet, beneath the natural sounds, there was something else—a low, almost imperceptible hum that seemed to vibrate through the air. It set her teeth on edge, a discordant note in the symphony of the night. She reached the center of the grove, where the standing stones formed a rough circle. Here, the air felt thicker, charged with an energy that made her skin tingle. She hesitated, the pendant's glow casting a faint crimson light on the ground. The stones seemed to lean inwards, as if conspiring to keep her there. A flicker of movement caught her eye, just at the edge of her vision. She turned sharply, but there was nothing—only the shadows, deep and impenetrable. Her pulse quickened, a drumbeat in the silence. "Hello?" Her voice sounded small, swallowed by the vastness of the grove. No answer came, only the rustle of leaves and the distant call of the owl. She took a step back, her instincts screaming at her to leave, to run. But something held her there, a compulsion she couldn't quite understand. The pendant's warmth intensified, a steady heat against her chest. Another sound, closer this time—a soft, almost imperceptible whisper. It was as if the grove itself was speaking, its voice a susurrus of leaves and wind. She strained to hear, but the words slipped away, just beyond her grasp. The shadows seemed to deepen, pooling around her feet like ink. She felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air, a cold that seeped into her very bones. Her breath came faster, a cloud of mist in the moonlight. "Who's there?" Her voice was stronger now, edged with a defiance she didn't quite feel. The whispering grew louder, a chorus of voices that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. They spoke in a language she didn't understand, their tones both soothing and sinister. She turned in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint the source, but the grove remained stubbornly empty. A sudden gust of wind swept through the clearing, stirring the wildflowers into a frenzy. The pendant flared brightly, its glow casting eerie shadows on the ground. Rory stumbled back, her heart racing. The stones seemed to close in, their ancient faces inscrutable in the moonlight. She felt trapped, caught in a web of shadows and whispers. The wrongness of the place pressed down on her, a tangible weight that made it hard to breathe. She took a step back, then another, her eyes never leaving the stones. The whispering faded, replaced by a heavy silence that was somehow worse. The grove watched her, its presence a living thing. Rory turned and ran, the pendant bouncing against her chest with each step. The shadows seemed to reach for her, their fingers brushing against her skin. She didn't stop until she reached the edge of the grove, the standing stones a distant memory behind her. She paused, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and looked back. The grove lay still and silent, the wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. The wrongness lingered, a shadow in her mind. Rory clutched the pendant, its warmth a reminder of the strange night. She turned away, the path back to the world of the ordinary stretching before her. The grove would wait, its secrets hidden in the shadows, but she knew she would return. The pull of the place was too strong, its mysteries too enticing. For now, though, she would leave the whispers and shadows behind, stepping back into the light of the waking world.