Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRPBDY8V5JXE9A807MX2NV

The Heartstone Pendant bumped against Aurora's chest as she stepped over a fallen log. Its weight felt heavier than usual, the faint warmth pulsing against her skin despite the autumn chill that had settled over Richmond Park. Darkness had fallen faster than expected, and now only her phone's flashlight illuminated the barely-there path she followed between ancient oaks. "This is stupid," she muttered, pushing back a branch. "Beyond stupid." But the text had been clear: Come to the standing stones at midnight. Bring the pendant. I have answers about your mother. Her mother, gone three months now. The official story was a hiking accident in Wales, but the police report had too many inconsistencies, too many unanswered questions. And then the pendant had arrived in the mail two weeks ago, with only a handwritten note: "Jennifer wanted you to have this when the time came." The Heartstone grew warmer against her skin as the trees thinned ahead. Aurora paused, playing her light between the massive oak trunks that formed a rough circle in the clearing. The standing stones. She'd heard rumors about this place, of course—every Londoner had stories about Richmond Park's oddities—but she'd written them off as urban legends. Aurora checked her watch: 11:52 PM. She was early. Stepping into the clearing, she felt an immediate change in the air. The city sounds that had accompanied her entire journey—distant traffic, the occasional airplane overhead—suddenly vanished. The silence pressed against her eardrums like cotton wool, broken only by the soft crunch of leaves beneath her boots. "Hello?" she called, immediately regretting it as her voice seemed to drop dead in the still air. No response. She moved to the center of the clearing, her phone light catching on moss-covered stone faces carved with spirals and strange symbols. Eight stones in total, each twice her height, forming a perfect circle. The pendant pulsed more insistently now, its warmth almost uncomfortable through her thin sweater. 11:57 PM. Aurora turned slowly, taking in the entire clearing. Something felt wrong. The darkness between the trees seemed too thick, too absolute. She had the distinct sensation of standing on a stage, spotlit and observed. A twig snapped somewhere behind her. She whirled, light slashing through darkness. Nothing. "If you're here, just come out," she said, hating the tremor in her voice. "I brought the pendant like you asked." The wind picked up suddenly, rustling the canopy overhead. Aurora glanced upward—and froze. Through gaps in the branches, no stars shone. No moon. Just... emptiness. That couldn't be right. The weather report had promised clear skies, and she'd seen stars on her walk here. The pendant burned hotter. 12:00 AM. A sound rose on the wind—soft at first, then clearer. Whispering. Multiple voices speaking words she couldn't quite catch, their tones urgent and overlapping. "Who's there?" Aurora backed toward the nearest standing stone, seeking its solid presence against her spine. Her light swept the perimeter again. Between two distant trees, something moved—a shadow detaching from shadow. "Hello? Are you the one who texted me?" Her voice sounded small, wrong. The shadow stilled. Aurora squinted, trying to make out its shape. It seemed human, but elongated somehow, proportions subtly incorrect. The whispering grew louder. Words almost recognizable, almost familiar, like a language she should understand but couldn't quite grasp. Aurora thumbed her phone to call Silas, but the screen showed no service. Of course. The pendant at her throat pulsed in time with her racing heart. Something else moved at the corner of her vision—faster this time, darting between stones to her right. Aurora spun, light following too late, catching nothing. "I'm leaving," she announced to the clearing, to whatever watched from the darkness. "If you know something about my mother, you can bloody well email me." She stepped away from the standing stone, orienting herself toward the path she'd taken. But which direction had that been? Aurora turned slowly, heart hammering. Every gap between the stones looked identical—dark archways leading into deeper darkness. The path she'd followed was gone, the forest beyond the clearing transformed into an impenetrable wall of vegetation. The whispering voices rose, almost frantic now. The air in the clearing grew thick, difficult to breathe. Movement again—closer this time. A figure gliding between stones, too tall and thin to be human. "Stay back," Aurora warned, voice breaking. She fumbled in her pocket for her keys, sliding one between her fingers in a makeshift weapon. The pendant burned against her skin, its glow visible now through her sweater—a crimson pulse that illuminated the clearing in brief, nightmarish flashes. In those flashes, she saw them. Figures standing at the edge of the clearing. Dozens, perhaps more. Watching. Waiting. Their shapes wrong in ways she couldn't articulate—limbs too long, heads misshapen, movements jerky and insectile. Aurora backed away, spinning in a slow circle. They surrounded the entire clearing now, closing in with each pulse of the pendant. One stepped forward—taller than the others, its face a blur of features that seemed to shift and rearrange with each crimson flash. "We've waited for you, Malphora," it said in a voice like dry leaves scraping stone. "My name is Aurora," she said, confused and terrified. "Aurora Carter." The thing cocked its head at an impossible angle. "Not here. Not now." "What do you want? Where am I?" The pendant burned painfully now, and Aurora fought the urge to tear it from her neck. "The veil thins. The door opens." The creature extended a hand with too many joints. "Your mother opened the way. You will complete the passage." The other figures drew closer, their whispers rising to a cacophony of alien sounds. "My mother died in an accident," Aurora insisted, though doubt crept into her voice. The being made a sound like laughter. "Jennifer Carter did not die. Jennifer Carter returned." The pendant flared with blinding intensity, and Aurora felt the ground beneath her feet shift. The standing stones began to glow with the same crimson light, symbols carved into their surfaces illuminating one by one. Time stretched, distorted. She felt dizzy, untethered. "Stop this," she gasped, clutching the pendant through her sweater. "I don't understand—" "You will." The creature reached for her, fingers elongating impossibly across the distance between them. Aurora stumbled backward, fell. The ground beneath her was no longer earth but something else—a surface that yielded like flesh, warm and pulsing in rhythm with the pendant. The crimson light spread from the pendant to her fingers, racing up her arms in glowing veins. "What's happening to me?" she cried out. The being loomed over her, its face finally resolving into something almost human—but with her mother's eyes. "You're coming home," it whispered. The scar on Aurora's left wrist—the crescent-shaped mark from childhood—began to burn and glow with the same light as the pendant. The mark she'd always believed came from falling off her bike. The mark that matched the central symbol on each standing stone. The figures closed in, their forms bleeding into the darkness between the trees, becoming one with the night. The whispering reached a crescendo, and Aurora recognized the language at last—she'd heard it in dreams her entire life. The pendant's chain snapped, but instead of falling, the stone sank into her chest, merging with her flesh. Pain lanced through her, then subsided into pulsing warmth that spread throughout her body. "I don't want this," Aurora whispered, though something ancient stirring inside her disagreed. "The Grove has claimed you," said the thing with her mother's eyes. "Time runs different here. You've been expected for centuries." The standing stones began to rotate slowly around the clearing, though they remained rooted in place—reality bending around them like cloth. Aurora felt something fundamental changing within her, memories not her own flooding her consciousness. The name "Malphora" echoed in her mind, familiar and foreign simultaneously. "I just wanted answers about my mother," she pleaded, fighting against the transformation overtaking her. "And you shall have them." The being's voice softened. "But first, you must remember who you are." The crimson light engulfed the entire clearing now. The figures watched silently as Aurora Carter—delivery driver, law school dropout, orphan—struggled against the truth trying to consume her. But the Heartstone had awakened something that could no longer be denied. Something that had always lived inside her, dormant until this moment, in this place where time moved differently and the veil between worlds grew thin. As midnight stretched into an impossible hour in the Fae Grove, Aurora felt herself both unraveling and becoming whole.