Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTX67JQ0MX0F8QC58WCXVVF

Aurora slipped the silver chain over her head, the deep crimson of the Heartstone catching the faint moonlight that filtered through the oak canopy. The pendant throbbed gently against her chest, a warmth that rose when she stepped past the ancient standing stones. She paused at the edge of the clearing, the wildflowers swaying in a breeze she could not feel. The night air smelled of damp earth and something sweet, like fermenting fruit. She stared at the stones, their moss‑covered trunks rising like sentinels. Her bright blue eyes traced the carvings, half‑forgotten runes that glimmered faintly in the darkness. A small crescent scar on her left wrist twitched as she pressed the pendant harder against her skin. The scar, a reminder of a childhood accident, seemed to pulse in rhythm with the stone. The grove felt wrong the instant she entered. A low hum hung in the air, a sound that should have been wind but carried a metallic edge. She turned, expecting to see leaves rustling, but the trees stood still, their branches rigid as if holding their breath. “Did I miss the bus?” she muttered, half‑joking, half‑serious. Her voice cracked against the stone, scattering a few moths that fluttered away. A rustle whispered from the periphery, a soft scrape that could have been a small animal. The flowers, normally bright, seemed to dim, their petals folding inward. Aurora’s breath caught, but she steadied herself, her mind already cataloguing possibilities. She stepped deeper, the pendant’s glow intensifying, a faint inner light that seemed to react to something unseen. The ground beneath her boots softened, the grass giving way to a carpet of moss that felt damp, almost clammy. “Who’s there?” she whispered, her tone flat, as if challenging the night itself. She lifted her hand, fingertips brushing a stone. The surface was cold, the cold that seeped into her bones. A faint chuckle drifted from nowhere, a sound that hung in the air like a breath. Aurora turned, eyes scanning the darkness. Shadows shifted at the edge of her vision, shapes that dissolved when she tried to focus. She swallowed, feeling the scar on her wrist tighten. The Heartstone thumped louder, a syncopated rhythm that matched the thudding of her own heart. She lifted the pendant, holding it up to the sky. The crimson gemstone glowed brighter, a soft pulse that seemed to draw the darkness toward it. “Fine,” she said, voice steadier now, “play your games.” She took a step forward, the moss yielding under her weight. The hum grew louder, now a low vibration that resonated through the soles of her shoes. A gust of wind brushed past, though no trees moved. The wildflowers swayed in a synchronized wave, as if an unseen hand conducted them. Aurora’s hair brushed against her shoulders, black strands catching the moonlight. She bent to pick a flower, the stem breaking with a soft snap. The sound echoed, startling in the stillness. She stared at the broken stem, then at the ground where tiny insects scurried away. “Not funny,” she muttered, half‑laughing, half‑gritting. She pressed the pendant against her chest, feeling the warmth seep deeper. A distant howl rose, not of any animal she knew. It was high, thin, and seemed to come from both behind and ahead of her. She spun, eyes wide, the scar on her wrist throbbing as if the stone had a heartbeat of its own. She clenched her fists, the fingers digging into the moss. “You think you can hide,” she said, voice low, “but I’ve chased worse.” She remembered the night she left Evan, the anger that drove her out of a toxic relationship, the way she had learned to read people like open books. This was a different book, its pages blank and unsettling. A shape emerged from behind a stone, tall and slender, its outline flickering like a candle in a draft. It moved with a jerky, unnatural gait. Aurora’s breath hitched, but she held her ground, the pendant’s glow casting an eerie halo around her. “Are you a trick?” she asked, her voice steadier now. “A prank? A dream?” The figure did not answer. Instead, it raised a hand, fingers elongated, ending in what looked like tiny claws. The claws brushed the moss, leaving a faint, phosphorescent trail that faded within seconds. Aurora’s eyes narrowed. She felt the scar on her wrist flare, a sting that reminded her of the accident that left the crescent mark. She pressed the pendant harder, feeling the warmth surge, a pulse that seemed to push against the darkness. “Listen,” she said, addressing the night itself, “I’m not afraid of shadows.” She took another step, the ground beneath her feet humming with each footfall. A chorus of whispers rose, layered, incomprehensible, yet somehow familiar. Words slipped through the air like moths, landing on her ears before fluttering away. She tilted her head, trying to catch a fragment. “Help…,” a voice hissed, barely audible over the hum. Aurora’s jaw tightened. She took a breath, inhaling the scent of damp earth, wildflowers, and something metallic. She lifted the pendant again, its crimson heart beating against her chest. “Give me a sign,” she said, voice firm. “If you’re anything, show me something I can understand.” The stone responded, a surge of heat that traveled up her neck, down her arms, settling in her fingertips. The glow intensified, casting a red sheen over the moss. The standing stones trembled, ancient roots shuddering as if awakened. A low, guttural laugh rolled from the darkness, resonating through the stones. The laughter was not human, nor animal, but something that seemed to echo from a place beyond the grove. Aurora steadied herself, her mind racing. She remembered the stories of the Fae, of pockets where time bent, where reality thinned. She had come here because the Heartstone had pulsed near a Hel portal, a place of passage between worlds. She had hoped to retrieve a missing fragment, a piece of a larger puzzle. She felt the pulse of the pendant align with the hum, a rhythm that matched the beating of her own heart. The scar on her wrist glowed faintly, a crescent of light that seemed to mirror the stone’s glow. “Enough,” she whispered, voice barely more than a breath. “I’m not leaving until I know what you want.” The darkness shifted, the shadows coalescing into a shape that resembled a figure, but its edges were fluid, like smoke caught in a wind. Its eyes—if they could be called that—were twin pits of black, reflecting the moonlight in a way that made Aurora’s skin crawl. She stepped forward, the pendant’s glow flaring, a beacon in the gloom. The figure recoiled, its form rippling. “Why are you here?” she demanded, voice echoing off the stones. The figure’s answer was a chorus of whispers, each syllable a fragment of a forgotten language. The Heartstone pulsed, a rapid beat that seemed to sync with the figure’s murmurs. Aurora pressed the pendant to her chest, feeling the warmth spread, a heat that chased away the chill that clung to her bones. She closed her eyes, letting the sensation guide her. The warmth rose, a tide that surged through her veins, illuminating the darkness within the grove. When she opened them, the figure had dissolved, leaving only a faint scent of ozone and a lingering echo of the guttural laugh. Aurora exhaled, the scar on her wrist fading to its usual faint line. She felt the pendant’s glow dim, the heat retreating to a gentle pulse. The wildflowers opened fully, their petals shimmering with dew that reflected the moon. She turned toward the standing stones, the ancient oaks looming like guardians. The hum that had filled the night softened, becoming a low, steady thrum that seemed to settle into the ground. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small notebook she kept for field notes. She flipped to a blank page, the pen poised. “It’s not a portal,” she wrote, the words flowing without hesitation. “It’s a crossing. The Heartstone reacts, but the Fae’s edge is thin. Something watches.” She paused, listening to the night’s breath. The rustle of leaves returned, softer now, like a sigh. The air felt lighter, as if the tension had been released. She slipped the pendant back onto her neck, the silver chain settling against her skin. The scar on her wrist tingled one last time, a reminder of the accident that had left its mark. She turned, stepping away from the stones, her boots crunching on the moss. The grove seemed to close behind her, the ancient oaks retreating into shadow. The night sky stretched above, stars glimmering like distant eyes. She walked without looking back, the Heartstone’s glow a steady, comforting rhythm against her chest. The grove’s whispers faded, leaving only the sound of her own breathing and the distant call of an owl. She emerged at the edge of Richmond Park, the city lights far beyond the trees. The air smelled of rain, and the night felt ordinary again. She lifted her head, the moon reflected in her bright blue eyes. She smiled, a thin line on her lips, the scar on her wrist hidden beneath the shirt. She tucked the notebook into her bag, the pen clicking shut. She walked toward the streetlights, the Heartstone’s faint glow the her path, her mind already turning over the next steps. The night held no more secrets for her, at least for now.