Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRPMXFC3XBDXNQ7A90A394

The Heartstone Pendant pulsed against her collarbone, a slow, insistent rhythm like a second heartbeat. Rory adjusted the strap of her backpack and stepped past the standing stones. The air thickened, cloying with the scent of damp earth and something sweeter—wildflowers blooming out of season, their petals glowing faintly under the moonlight. She shouldn’t have come. Not at night. Not alone. But the pendant had led her here, its crimson glow flickering to life the moment she crossed the boundary of the grove. The note had been clear: *"Find the grove at midnight. The truth waits where time bends."* No signature. No explanation. Just the pendant, left on her doorstep three nights ago, wrapped in black silk. The trees loomed taller here, their branches twisting into shapes that didn’t quite make sense. The ground beneath her boots was spongy, too soft, like walking on a living thing. A twig snapped somewhere to her left. Rory froze, her breath shallow. Nothing moved. Just the wind, maybe. Just the trees. She exhaled and forced herself forward. The clearing opened ahead, a perfect circle of silver grass ringed by oaks. At its center stood a single stone slab, flat and smooth, its surface etched with symbols that writhed under her gaze. The pendant burned hotter now, searing through her shirt. She reached for it, fingers brushing the warm gemstone. A whisper slithered through the air. Not words. Just sound—a wet, clicking noise, like teeth against bone. Rory spun. The trees stood still. The wind had died. "Hello?" Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. "Is anyone there?" Silence. Then, from the shadows behind the slab, a shape detached itself. A figure. Tall. Too tall. Its limbs bent at angles that made her stomach clench. It took a step forward, and the moonlight caught its face—or what should have been its face. A smooth stretch of skin, featureless except for a vertical slit where a mouth should be. Rory stumbled back. The pendant flared, casting crimson light across the clearing. The figure recoiled, hissing, its body twisting as if the glow burned it. It lunged to the side, vanishing into the trees. Her pulse hammered in her throat. Run. She should run. But the slab called to her, its symbols pulsing in time with the pendant. The truth waits where time bends. She approached the stone, boots sinking into the grass. The etchings shifted under her touch, rearranging themselves into words she almost understood. A name. *Isolde.* A warning. *The door opens inward.* A branch snapped behind her. Rory whirled. The figure stood at the edge of the clearing, its body hunched, its too-long fingers flexing. The slit in its face split wider, revealing rows of needle-thin teeth. "Who are you?" Rory’s voice shook. She clenched the pendant, its heat searing her palm. "What do you want?" The thing tilted its head. A sound like a wet cough bubbled from its throat. Then it spoke, its voice layered with something beneath the words—something that slithered into her ears and coiled around her thoughts. *"You don’t belong here."* The trees groaned. The ground trembled. The figure took a step forward, its joints popping as it moved. Rory’s breath came in short, sharp gasps. The pendant burned hotter, brighter, casting jagged shadows across the clearing. The thing’s slit mouth stretched into a grin. *"But you will."*