Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRT3PYNRNTCG9H224JDWNB

The Heartstone Pendant lay heavy against Rory’s collarbone, its crimson glow bleeding through the thin fabric of her hoodie. She adjusted the strap of her delivery bag, the weight of the takeout containers inside suddenly oppressive. The standing stones loomed ahead, their gnarled oaks twisted into shapes that didn’t quite make sense—like fingers curling inward, beckoning. She shouldn’t have come. Not at night. Not alone. But the pendant had pulsed against her skin the moment she stepped into Richmond Park, its warmth seeping through her layers. A Hel portal. That’s what the note had said. The one slipped under her door, unsigned, with a map scrawled in ink that smudged when she touched it. *Find the grove. The door is open. Bring the pendant.* Rory exhaled, her breath fogging in the cold air. The park was too quiet. No rustling leaves, no distant traffic—just the crunch of her boots on frost-bitten grass. The stones ahead seemed to hum, a low vibration that thrummed in her teeth. She stepped between them. The world tilted. The air thickened, sweet and cloying, like rotting flowers. The grove unfolded before her, bathed in silver moonlight that didn’t come from any sky she recognized. Wildflowers carpeted the ground, their petals too bright, too *alive*, pulsing faintly in time with her heartbeat. The pendant flared hot against her skin. "Okay," she muttered. "This is fine. This is *fine*." A twig snapped. Rory spun. Nothing. Just the swaying flowers, their stems bending as if something had brushed past them. She swallowed. "Hello?" Silence. Then—a whisper. Not from the trees. Not from the wind. From *inside* her skull. *Laila.* Her mother’s voice. But her mother was dead. Rory’s fingers clenched around the pendant. "Who’s there?" The flowers trembled. A shadow detached itself from the base of a tree, too tall, too *wrong*, its limbs bending at angles that made her stomach lurch. It didn’t step forward. It *unfolded*, like a spider stretching its legs. *You shouldn’t have come, little bird.* The voice slithered into her ears, wet and clicking. Rory stumbled back, her boot catching on a root. The shadow rippled, its edges blurring, reforming into something almost human. Almost. "You’re not real," she said, but her voice shook. *Oh, but I am.* The thing smiled, its mouth stretching too wide. *And you brought me such a pretty gift.* The pendant burned. Rory ripped it from her neck, holding it out like a weapon. The crimson light flared, casting jagged shadows across the grove. The thing recoiled, hissing. *Clever girl.* It circled her, its footsteps silent. *But the grove remembers. And it’s hungry.* The ground beneath her feet *moved*. Roots burst from the earth, coiling around her ankles, slick and warm. Rory yelped, twisting, but they slithered up her legs, tightening like ropes. The shadow laughed, a sound like breaking glass. *Let’s see what’s under that clever skin, shall we?* The pendant’s glow flickered. Rory gritted her teeth, yanking one arm free. She lunged, driving the Heartstone into the nearest root. It shrieked—a sound like metal tearing—and recoiled, black ichor oozing from the wound. The shadow snarled. *You’ll regret that.* Rory didn’t wait to find out what came next. She bolted, roots snapping at her heels. The standing stones loomed ahead, their edges wavering like a mirage. She didn’t look back. She *ran*. The grove spat her out between the oaks. The night air hit her like a slap, cold and real. Rory collapsed onto the grass, gasping. The pendant lay in her palm, its glow dimming to a dull pulse. Behind her, the grove sighed. A whisper, carried on the wind. *Next time.*