Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRJQP87A4JPB1HECDP21RN

The Heartstone Pendant lay heavy against Rory’s collarbone, its crimson glow barely visible in the dim light of dusk. She adjusted the strap of her backpack, the weight of the takeout containers inside shifting with her movement. The standing stones of the Fae Grove loomed ahead, their gnarled oaks twisted into shapes that seemed to watch her. She’d been here before—once, years ago, when Eva had dragged her through on a dare. But that had been daylight. This was different. The air smelled too sweet, like overripe fruit left to rot. The wildflowers that usually carpeted the grove were wilted at the edges, their petals curled inward as if hiding something. Rory’s fingers brushed the pendant, its warmth pulsing faintly against her skin. A Hel portal was near. That’s why she’d come. That’s why she’d lied to Silas about needing to make a late delivery, why she’d taken the long route through Richmond Park instead of sticking to the main roads. She stepped past the stones. The moment she crossed the threshold, the temperature dropped. Her breath misted in front of her, though the night wasn’t cold. The grove stretched out before her, the trees too still, their branches tangled like skeletal fingers. The usual hum of insects was gone. No rustling of leaves, no distant call of night birds. Just silence. Then, a whisper. Rory froze. The sound had been so faint she almost convinced herself she’d imagined it. But then it came again—a murmur, just beyond the edge of hearing. She turned slowly, scanning the shadows between the trees. Nothing moved. “Hello?” Her voice sounded too loud in the stillness. The pendant flared against her skin, its glow brightening. She exhaled sharply, her pulse quickening. The portal was close. She just had to find it. A twig snapped. Rory spun, her heart hammering. The sound had come from behind her, near the standing stones. She squinted into the darkness, but the trees swallowed the light, leaving only shifting shadows. She took a step back, then another, her boots crunching over dead leaves. Something brushed against her ankle. She jerked away, stumbling. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Nothing was there. Just the damp earth, the gnarled roots of the trees. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe. The pendant’s glow flickered, dimming slightly. “Get it together,” she muttered. “It’s just the grove. It’s always like this.” But it wasn’t. The grove had never been like this. Another whisper, closer this time. A voice, but not a word. Just a sound, like something exhaling against the back of her neck. Rory whirled, her breath coming fast. The trees seemed to lean in, their branches creaking as if straining to reach her. She broke into a run. The ground sloped beneath her feet, the trees blurring together as she pushed forward. The pendant burned hot against her skin, its glow pulsing in time with her racing heart. The portal had to be here. It had to be. A shape moved in the corner of her vision. Rory skidded to a halt, her boots kicking up dirt. She turned slowly, her breath shallow. There, between the trees—a figure. Tall, too tall, its limbs too long, its silhouette shifting like smoke. It didn’t move toward her. It just stood there, watching. She backed away, her pulse roaring in her ears. The figure tilted its head, the movement too smooth, too fluid. Then it stepped forward, its footfalls silent. Rory turned and ran. The trees pressed in around her, their branches clawing at her arms, her face. The pendant’s glow flared bright, casting long, wavering shadows. She could hear it now—the thing behind her. Not footsteps. Something wetter, like something dragging itself through the undergrowth. She burst into a clearing. The portal was there, a jagged tear in the air, its edges shimmering like heat haze. The Heartstone’s glow burned so bright it hurt her eyes. She lunged for it, her fingers stretching toward the rippling light. Something grabbed her wrist. Rory screamed, twisting away. The grip was cold, too cold, its fingers digging into her skin. She wrenched free, stumbling back, her breath ragged. The figure stood at the edge of the clearing, its form flickering between solid and smoke. Its face—if it even had one—was a blur of shadows. The portal pulsed, its light flickering like a dying bulb. Rory didn’t hesitate. She threw herself forward, her body passing through the tear in the air. The last thing she saw was the figure’s hand reaching for her, its fingers stretching impossibly long. Then the grove was gone.