Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTX86KD382D3MWWEN88GE3G

The air in the Fae Grove hung thickand still, smelling of damp earth and something like ozone. Aurora Carter, known to her friends as Rory, pushed through the ancient oak standing stones marking the boundary. Her breath misted in the cold night air, visible for a moment before vanishing. She’d come here, fleeing the suffocating familiarity of London, seeking the grove’s rumored peace. But peace was a luxury she couldn’t afford tonight. The silence wasn’t peaceful; it was a vacuum, pressing in on her, amplifying every tiny sound until it felt like a physical weight. She’d parked her bike a mile back, the engine’s growl swallowed by the dense trees. Now, the path ahead was barely more than a deer trail, overgrown and slick with dew. Her watch, a battered digital affair, showed 2:17 AM. She’d been walking for twenty minutes, the time feeling both stretched and compressed, like the grove itself was warping reality. The trees leaned in, their gnarled branches scratching the sky like skeletal fingers. Shadows pooled in the hollows between the roots, shifting and deepening as she passed. A faint, rhythmic scraping sound reached her ears. Not the wind, not the rustle of leaves. It sounded like… stone on stone. She froze, listening. The sound stopped. Then started again, closer this time, a dry, grating whisper that seemed to come from the ground itself. She spun around, heart hammering against her ribs. Nothing. Just the oppressive silence, broken only by the distant hoot of an owl that sounded unnaturally loud. She took a step forward, the crunch of dead leaves underfoot the only sound. The scraping resumed, this time from her left, near the ancient oak standing stones. She approached cautiously, the air growing colder, charged with an energy that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. The stones themselves seemed to pulse faintly, a deep, resonant hum vibrating through her boots. She touched one, rough bark scratching her palm. It felt warm, unnaturally so. A flicker of movement caught her eye at the edge of her vision. She turned, but the darkness was absolute. Just shadows. She pressed on, the path winding deeper into the heart of the grove. The scraping sound followed her, a persistent, unsettling companion. She heard whispers then, not words, but a low, sibilant murmur that seemed to coil around her thoughts, whispering her name. "Rory... Rory..." It wasn’t human, but it felt intimately familiar, like a memory dredged from a nightmare. She stumbled, catching herself on a gnarled root. The pendant around her neck, a gift from an unknown benefactor, warmed against her skin. It pulsed faintly, a deep crimson glow that seemed to absorb the surrounding gloom. She pulled it out, the silver chain cold in her hand. The glow intensified, casting a small, eerie circle of light on the damp earth. It felt like a beacon, but also a trap. The whispers grew louder, clearer, coalescing into a single, chilling voice that seemed to come from all around her. "You shouldn’t be here, Rory. This place isn’t for you." It wasn’t threatening, not yet. It was curious, predatory. She backed away, the path seeming to shift beneath her feet. The time distortion was worse now; her watch showed 2:17 again, but the grove felt like it had been hours. She looked up, trying to find the stars, but the canopy was too thick, a solid, impenetrable roof of dark leaves. The air felt thick, heavy, like breathing syrup. She felt watched, not just seen, but *known*. The scraping sound was now a constant, a dry, insistent rhythm that echoed through the silent trees. She heard footsteps, soft and padded, following her, always just out of sight. She spun around, heart pounding, but the path behind her was empty, the only disturbance the disturbed leaves she’d just walked over. The Heartstone pendant’s glow flared, bright enough to illuminate the immediate area, revealing nothing but twisted roots and moss. The whispers died down, replaced by a low, guttural growl that vibrated in her chest. She stumbled, falling hard onto her knees, the pendant slipping from her fingers. It landed with a soft clink on the cold earth. The growl intensified, closer now, a sound that wasn’t quite animal, not quite mechanical. It sounded like tearing, like something large and powerful forcing its way through dense undergrowth. She scrambled backwards, her hands scraping against the rough bark of a tree. The pendant’s glow dimmed, fading back to a faint pulse against her skin. The growl stopped. Silence descended again, heavier than before, broken only by her ragged breathing and the frantic beat of her own heart. She pressed herself against the tree, eyes wide, scanning the impenetrable darkness. The grove held its breath. She wasn’t alone. She knew it with a certainty that chilled her to the bone. The wrongness wasn’t just in the sounds or the shifting shadows anymore. It was in the air itself, thick and alive, watching her. The path back seemed to have vanished, swallowed by the encroaching darkness. The ancient stones loomed, silent sentinels in the heart of the Fae Grove, and she was trapped within their grasp.