Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRKHF1NQ1MEX4RSFSB21D4

Aurora stepped through the Veil, the air shivering around her like disturbed water. Her companions followed—Nyx's formless shadow sliding through the tear as if it were merely walking through a doorway, while Isolde's passage made no sound at all, her feet never quite touching the ground. "Is everyone alright?" Aurora asked, her hand instinctively moving to the Heartstone Pendant. It pulsed with unusual warmth against her skin, its crimson center glowing brighter than she'd ever seen. "The Veil is exceptionally thin here," Isolde observed, her silver hair floating as if underwater despite the lack of breeze. "Winter solstice approaches. We must be cautious." The landscape before them bore little resemblance to the Richmond Park they'd left behind. The Fae Grove stretched out like a fever dream—a forest cathedral where massive trees twisted upward, their trunks wider than London flats. Their bark shimmered with veins of luminescent blue, pulsing slowly like heartbeats. "This isn't what I expected," Aurora whispered, her breath visible as delicate frost patterns that lingered in the air before dissolving. "What were you expecting, little mortal?" Nyx's voice drifted around them, their shadowy form condensing and expanding with each syllable. "Stories of fairy circles and mushroom rings? The Grove is much older than human tales." Aurora tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear, her bright blue eyes wide as she took in their surroundings. The forest floor was carpeted with flowers that should never bloom together—snow-white lilies nestled against summer roses, autumn chrysanthemums twined with spring daffodils. All pulsed with faint bioluminescence, casting rainbow shadows across the grove. "We should move," Isolde said, her pale lavender eyes scanning the trees. "Time flows differently here. What feels like minutes could be hours outside the Grove—or days." They moved deeper into the forest, following a path that seemed to form itself beneath their feet. The wildflowers parted before them, then closed again behind like water healing a wound. "The standing stones should be ahead," Isolde pointed toward what appeared to be a clearing in the distance. "Ancient oak transmuted by old magic." Aurora felt the Fae-Forged Blade at her hip grow colder, the moonsilver metal almost painful against her skin even through the leather sheath. She placed her hand on its hilt, drawing comfort from its presence. "Something watches us," Nyx whispered, their shadowy form compressing into something more human-shaped, more solid. Their violet eyes scanned the canopy above. "Many somethings." Aurora looked up. Between the branches, faces appeared and disappeared—not quite human, not quite animal. Eyes blinked in synchronized patterns, following their progress through the Grove. "Fae Guardians," Isolde explained. "They mean no harm unless provoked." The clearing opened before them, revealing seven massive standing stones arranged in a perfect circle. Each stood at least fifteen feet tall, the wood polished to a mirror finish that reflected nothing of the forest around them. Instead, each stone showed different images—landscapes that shifted and changed as Aurora approached. "Don't touch them," Isolde warned. "Those are doorways to other parts of the Fae Realms. Some beautiful, some... less so." In the center of the circle sat a table carved from a single piece of crystal, its surface rippling like water though it remained solid. Atop it rested an ornate silver chalice and a book bound in material that seemed to shift between leather and liquid metal. "The Seeing Table," Isolde's voice dropped to reverence. "I never thought I'd see it again." Aurora approached carefully. The ground beneath her feet changed with each step—first soft grass, then sand, then something that felt like walking on clouds. "What is this place, Isolde? Really?" "A confluence point," the half-Fae answered, her silver hair lifting in an invisible current. "Where multiple realms brush against each other. The Fae Courts, Hel, your mortal world—all pressed together like pages in a book." Nyx moved to one of the standing stones, their shadowy form reflecting dozens of times within its surface. "This one leads to Dymas." Their voice carried an unusual edge. "I can smell the feasts. Feel the warmth." The stone showed rolling amber hills covered in vineyards and elaborate pavilions where figures danced in slow motion. Aurora's Heartstone Pendant throbbed almost painfully against her chest. "We're not here for Dymas," Aurora reminded them, touching the small crescent scar on her wrist—a nervous habit. "We need information about the Veil tears in London." Isolde approached the crystal table, her hands hovering above its surface without touching it. The book's cover rippled in response. "Knowledge has its price here," she warned. "The Fae do not give without taking." A sound like distant wind chimes filled the clearing, growing louder until it surrounded them. The flowers at their feet began to glow brighter, pulsing in rhythm with the sound. "They're coming," Isolde whispered. The air between the standing stones thickened, taking on a gossamer quality. Aurora felt pressure building in her ears, like descending too quickly in an airplane. "Who's coming?" she asked, drawing the Fae-Forged Blade. The dagger gleamed with moonlight though there was no moon visible through the canopy. "The Keepers," Nyx and Isolde answered simultaneously. The air split open—not tearing like the Veil, but unfolding like origami. Three figures stepped through, their forms too bright to look at directly. Aurora squinted, making out only vague impressions—one tall and reed-thin, one broad-shouldered and massive, one child-sized but somehow radiating the most authority. "Visitors," said the smallest one, their voice sounding like several people speaking in perfect harmony. "Rare to have a trinity—shadow, half-blood, and mortal." Aurora's heart hammered against her ribs. The Heartstone Pendant burned against her skin, and the Fae blade in her hand hummed with energy. "We seek knowledge," Isolde spoke, bowing deeply. "About the weakening Veil in London." The tallest Keeper circled them, moving without seeming to take steps. "Knowledge is precious here, half-blood. You were exiled for giving it away too freely." Isolde's face remained impassive, but Aurora saw pain flash in her lavender eyes. "The Veil tears are not natural," the broad Keeper said, their voice like stones grinding together. "Someone pulls from the other side." "Who?" Aurora asked, immediately regretting speaking as all three Keepers turned toward her. "The mortal speaks." The small Keeper approached, hovering rather than walking. "Curious. You carry Dymasian craft against your heart, yet Fae steel in your hand. Contradictions wrapped in human skin." Aurora stood her ground despite every instinct screaming to retreat. "The tears are appearing throughout London. People are disappearing. We need to know why." The Keepers exchanged glances, communicating without words. The clearing grew darker, the bioluminescent flowers dimming as if holding their breath. "Show her," the small Keeper finally said. "She carries the right tools, though she knows not why." The crystal table began to glow, its surface changing from solid to liquid. Images formed within—London streets Aurora recognized, but with shadowy tears hovering in the air. Through these tears, hands reached out—long-fingered, elegant, but wrong somehow. The images shifted to show a map of London, with tears forming a specific pattern. "A summoning circle," Nyx whispered, their violet eyes wide. "Someone's turning London into a gateway." "But to where?" Aurora asked, staring at the table. "Hel? The Fae Realms?" "Worse," the broad Keeper rumbled. "To what lies between." The table's surface suddenly boiled, the images dissolving into chaos. The smallest Keeper placed something on the crystal surface—a small stone that resembled Aurora's pendant but in midnight blue rather than crimson. "Balance," they said simply. "One opens, one closes. You'll need both." Aurora looked between her pendant and the new stone. "I don't understand." Isolde's expression had gone pale. "They're giving us a key, Aurora." "And a warning," Nyx added, their form growing more solid with tension. "Something comes through those tears. Something that shouldn't be here." The forest around them began to shift, the trees swaying without wind. The faces in the canopy multiplied, watching with increasing intensity. "Time grows short," the tall Keeper announced. "Take what's offered and depart. Return only when all doors are closed." The smallest Keeper gestured to the blue stone. "Take it, mortal. You now walk between worlds—might as well have the tools for the journey."