Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRFR6PVRMBM1NJ4B9B981V

Aurora Carter slipped through the shadows of Richmond Park, her footsteps muffled by the damp, leaf-littered ground. Night cloaked the ancient oak standing stones like a shroud, their gnarled outlines flickering faintly in the moonlight. The air was still, heavy with the scent of moss and wildflowers that thrived year-round despite the chilling wind, as if the grove refused to be touched by the coming cold. She clutched the Heartstone Pendant tightly, its faint pulse a reassuring thrum against her palm. She had come here under the guise of calm curiosity, but her stomach twisted with something sharper—an instinct she trusted more than any plan. The curse of her quick mind, sharpened by years of thinking before acting, told her to feel the wrongness crawling along her skin. A rustle sounded from the underbrush to her left—just a flicker, enough to make her heart skip. She froze, eyes darting through the darkness, catching only shadows that seemed alive, moving in the corners of her vision. Her breath fogged in the cold air, but she kept her gaze steady, pretending to herself that nothing was there. The grove felt alive tonight, but not with its usual serene pulse. Something was different, waiting, just beyond her sight. She moved deeper, her boots crunching softly over the carpet of fallen leaves. Her ears strained for sound, riding the tension of silence broken only by her own breathing and the faint whisper of wind threading through the trees. The ancient oak standing stones loomed ahead, their rough surfaces draped in shadows, their presence more like silent sentinels than the boundary they marked. The faint glow of her pendant pulsed gently, its crimson glow flickering in time with her pulse. She looked down, half expecting it to pulse brighter, but it remained steady, a quiet heartbeat in her palm. The legend of the Heartstone Pendant—an artifact pulsing with warmth near a Hel portal—offered her no illusions today. It was a tether, a reminder that whatever was happening here, she wasn’t unarmed. A sudden, almost imperceptible shift in the air made her stiffen. The silence stretched longer, as if anticipation was coiling tight inside the grove. Then, a whisper—not a word but a faint, sibilant hissing carried by the breeze. Like the wind was trying to speak in a language she almost understood. She turned her head slowly, eyes scanning every shadow with deliberate calm. Nothing moved. Or so it seemed. The shadows flickered with something subtle: a flicker of a shape darting just at the edge of her sight, or a whisper passing her ear too close. The woods around her felt wrong—too still, yet heavy with unspoken secrets. Her skin prickled. She tightened her grip on the chain of her pendant, sensing it tug gently, as if responding to an unseen presence. A sudden gust of wind tore through the grove, stirring the trees in a frantic dance. Bright wildflowers, seemingly immune to the cold, fluttered like frantic dancers, their petals brushing her arms as she stood motionless. Her eyes narrowed. When she first arrived, she thought this place was peaceful, sacred even. Now, she saw how the peace was fractured, how the shadows hid something far more sinister. A faint movement caught her eye—a flicker at her peripheral vision, like a ripple in still water. She turned sharply, trying to catch it again. But it was gone. The grove held its breath. Her mind raced. Maybe it was just her imagination, or the wind playing tricks. But deep down, she knew better. A slow, uneven sound emerged from the darkness—a low whisper twisted with a faint, gurgling undertone. Definitely not wind. Her muscles tightened as she listened, heart pounding but ignoring the pounding. It was close; she could feel it in her bones, the same prickling sensation that ran up her neck when she was seconds from uncovering the truth. She stepped forward, cautious, her every sense stretched taut. The shadows flickered once more—this time with a flicker of movement, something deliberate. She caught a glimpse of a shape, too tall to be a fox, too thin to be a deer, lurking just inside the edge of her line of sight. It froze when her eyes caught it. A shiver ran unchecked down her spine despite her attempt at composure. She knew she was not alone. Her gaze flicked to the standing stones, expecting the safety they promised—an invisible boundary that guaranteed the Grove’s respect. But the stones seemed to hum with a dark, electric energy, their carved surfaces shimmering under the moon’s pale gaze. As if they were not just stones, but anchors holding something ancient and malevolent. The whispering grew louder, more insistent, curling through her ears like a serpent tightening around her mind. She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to run or shout, her breath shallow. Then, she saw it—a flicker of movement, not at the edge anymore but right in front. A shadow, humanoid but elongated, distorted by some unseen force. It lingered there, motionless, staring. She could feel eyes on her, penetrating her skin, drilling into her bones. Her lips pressed together, tense. The pendant’s faint glow intensified just a crack, sending a ripple through her palm, but she kept her grip steady. She wasn’t here to run. Not yet. One step forward, then another, slowly closing the distance. Her eyes never left the figure. The shadow shifted, a ripple across the darkness, and she caught the faintest hint of something resembling a smile—not human, not living. The wind picked up again, tearing through the grove with a ferocity that completely dislodged all sense of calm. Her hair whipped around her face, black streaks blending into the night, but she stayed rooted, watching. A sharp, almost musical sound sliced into the silence—a chime, faint as glass breaking and yet perfectly pitched. The shadow’s gaze flickered, its form flickering like a candle in the breeze. It was calling her, or warning her, or inviting her. She couldn’t tell. Her heart hammered in her chest; every instinct screamed to flee, but her mind refused the impulse. Her fingers brushed the scar on her wrist, a small reminder of childhood accidents, scars that carried more than just memories. That scar sharpened her focus now. She braced herself, the silence thickening, waiting for what would come next. The grove waited, too.