Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTX77EHEPZPNPCN06FK9WZQ

Aurora stepped through the oak circle, the night air thick with the scent of damp earth and wildflowers that never seemed to wilt. The pendant at her throat throbbed, a faint heat that rose with each step. She paused, listening to the whisper of leaves, the distant bark of a night bird, the rustle of something unseen. “Is this why you pulled me here?” she murmured, more to the darkness than anyone else. The wind answered with a sigh that seemed to curl around the standing stones, coaxing them to sway in a rhythm that felt deliberate. Aurora’s eyes narrowed; the stones, ancient and weathered, held a shape that shifted when she blinked. She drew a breath, feeling the cool night settle into her lungs. A low hum vibrated through the ground, a sound that matched the pulse of the pendant. She pressed the chain against her palm, feeling a tremor that traveled up her wrist where a small crescent scar marked a childhood accident. The scar tingled, as if remembering a scar she had barely forgotten. “Fine, heart,” she said, voice steadier than she felt. “Show me what you want.” The hum swelled, and the air shivered, revealing a faint glow just beyond the stones. Aurora stepped forward, her boots sinking slightly into the moss. The glow pulsed, a crimson ember that seemed to breathe. She reached for it, fingers trembling. A rustle erupted from the edge of her vision, a flicker of movement that vanished when she turned. Her heart thudded; the sound of leaves brushing against something solid, something alive, lingered. “Who’s there?” she called, eyes scanning the dark. No answer, only the wind whispering through the grass. The pendant’s glow intensified, a thin line of light tracing a path toward the heart of the grove. Aurora followed, each step echoing louder than the last. The night seemed to stretch, the sky a bruised violet that pressed down on her shoulders. A distant laugh, childlike and warped, cracked the silence. It rose and fell, as if carried on a wind that never touched her skin. Aurora halted, listening intently. The laugh faded, replaced by a low, guttural croak that sounded like a throat clearing in a cavern. “Nice trick,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice level. “You’re not going to scare me.” A shape formed at the periphery—a silhouette of a figure, half veiled by mist, its outline flickering like a candle in a draft. Aurora’s breath caught. The figure stood still, arms outstretched, fingers pointing toward the pendant. “Drop it,” the figure seemed to say, its voice a chorus of leaves rustling in a storm. Aurora’s eyes darted to the pendant, its crimson stone now glowing brighter, casting a thin scar across the stone. She clutched the chain tighter, feeling the heat spread into her palm. The stone pulsed, as if matching the rhythm of a heartbeat she could not hear. “I’m not dropping it,” she replied, words sharp as stones. “You want it, you’ll have to take it.” The figure shifted, its form blurring, the edges dissolving into a swirl of darkness. Aurora’s pulse rose, the sound of her own breathing louder than the wind. She heard a faint tapping, like fingers against glass, coming from the stones themselves. “Enough,” she hissed, half to herself, half to the darkness. “Make your move.” The ground trembled, a low rumble that rolled through the oak roots. The stones cracked, a thin line of light spilling from each fissure. From the cracks emerged a cascade of tiny fireflies, their wings beating in unison, forming a halo that hovered over the pendant. Aurora’s eyes widened. The fireflies swirled, forming a vortex that pulled at the pendant, tugging it from her throat. She felt a cold rush, as if the night itself tried to strip the stone from her skin. “Not so fast,” she whispered, voice low. “I can feel you.” A sudden gust extinguished the fireflies, plunging the grove into darkness. The pendant’s glow dimmed, a faint ember that barely illuminated Aurora’s face. She stood alone, the night pressing in, every leaf a potential whisper. A crackle of static filled the air, a sound that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. Aurora’s ears rang, the echo of a heartbeat not her own. She pressed her palm against the pendant, feeling a faint vibration. “Who are you?” she demanded, voice cracking the stillness. “What do you want?” The answer came not in words but in a sensation—a cold hand brushing her cheek, a whisper of breath that smelled of earth and iron. Aurora turned, expecting a figure, but saw only the ancient oaks, their bark shifting, revealing faces etched in bark, eyes glinting like amber. A low chuckle rose from the trees, a sound that seemed to grow from the roots themselves. Aurora’s breath hitched, her throat dry. “Stop,” she said, forcing the words out. “I’m not afraid.” The trees swayed, their branches creaking. A low, resonant hum rose, a chorus of unseen voices chanting in a language she barely understood. The pendant pulsed again, a rhythmic thrum that matched the chant. Aurora felt the ground tilt, the world leaning. She stumbled, catching herself on a stone that now felt like a living thing. The stone’s surface was slick, as if covered in a thin film of oil, and it reflected an image that was not hers—a woman in a dress of night, eyes black as void, holding a twin of Aurora’s pendant. “Your sister,” the image whispered, lips moving without sound. “She left you this.” Aurora stared, the image flickering like a faulty projection. The pendant’s warmth surged, a wave that knocked her to her knees. She clutched at the moss, her fingers digging into the damp earth. “Enough of this,” she spat, words spitting out like shards. “I will not be a pawn.” A sudden crack split the air—a sound like a branch snapping under a footfall. Aurora looked up, eyes darting to the darkness beyond the stones. A shape moved, a silhouette of a creature that seemed to be made of shadows, its limbs elongated, its head featureless. The creature drifted toward her, the air around it swirling with a faint scent of rot. Aurora’s pulse hammered, her breath short. She raised her hand, the pendant hanging like a small beacon. “Leave me be,” she said, voice louder than she felt. The creature paused, its shape flickering, as if uncertain. A chorus of distant voices rose, a choir of unseen beings chanting in unison, the words echoing in the night. The pendant’s glow flared, a burst of crimson that illuminated the grove for a heartbeat. In that flash, Aurora saw the creature’s form resolve—its eyes were twin pits of darkness, its mouth a void that seemed to swallow sound. “Not tonight,” she whispered, feeling the power surge through the chain. She pressed the pendant against her chest, feeling the warmth pulse like a second heartbeat. The creature recoiled, a sound like a sigh escaping a cavern. The stones trembled, the ancient oaks swayed, their branches creaking in a rhythm that matched Aurora’s breathing. A sudden silence fell, thick and oppressive. The night seemed to hold its breath, the air still. Aurora stood, the pendant’s glow now a soft ember, her hands trembling. “Why are you here?” she asked, voice barely audible. The darkness answered with a rustle, a whisper that seemed to come from the very soil. The ground beneath the stones split, a fissure opening like a wound in the earth. From within, a pale light rose, a thin column of luminescence that stretched upward, disappearing into the night sky. The pendant’s glow dimmed further, as if wary of the light. Aurora stared at the fissure, the cold seeping into her bones. The creature, now barely a wisp, hovered at its edge, its form wavering. It raised a hand—no hand, just a tendril of darkness—toward the pendant. “You can’t take it,” Aurora said, her voice steadier now. “It belongs to me.” The tendril recoiled, as if burned. The creature let out a low hissing sound, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the stones. The ancient oak standing stones glowed faintly, their surfaces shimmering with an inner light. Aurora felt the pendant’s pulse aligning with the glow of the stones, a rhythm that seemed to harmonize with the earth itself. She lifted the pendant, holding it aloft, the crimson stone catching the faint light. “Take back,” she demanded, eyes fierce. “I won’t give it up.” The creature dissolved into a swirl of darkness, disappearing into the night. The fissure sealed with a soft click, the earth closing as if nothing had happened. The oak stones settled, their ancient presence steady once more. Aurora lowered the pendant, the faint glow returning to a gentle ember. She inhaled, feeling the night’s chill against her skin, the scent of wildflowers and damp earth filling her senses. “Looks like you’re not welcome here,” she muttered, a grin tugging at her lips despite the tension. The night seemed to listen, the wind rustling through the leaves as if approving. She turned, walking back toward the edge of the grove. The path seemed longer now, the moon hidden behind a veil of clouds. The pendant’s warmth faded, a steady beat against her heart. “Next time, I’ll bring an exit plan,” she whispered to the darkness, the words echoing as she stepped out of the Fae Grove, the ancient stones watching silently as she disappeared into the night.