Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTXKMW05T432Z3C5YQCN765

The standing stones loomed before Aurora like ancient sentinels, their weathered surfaces gleaming dully in the moonlight that filtered through the canopy of ancient oaks. She stepped into the clearing, her boots crunching softly on the carpet of fallen leaves, and immediately felt the wrongness settle over her like a shroud. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying foliage, but beneath it lurked something else—something cloying and sweet, like rotting flowers. It made her stomach churn, but she pressed on, drawn by a force she couldn't name. Her fingers found the Heartstone pendant at her throat, its crimson surface warm against her skin. It had led her here, to this forgotten corner of Richmond Park, pulsing with an insistent rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. She moved deeper into the grove, her senses on high alert. The shadows seemed to writhe and twist, forming shapes that disappeared when she tried to focus on them. A twig snapped behind her, and she whirled around, heart leaping into her throat. Nothing. Just the trees and the endless night. Aurora forced herself to breathe, to push down the rising tide of panic. She had come here for a reason, and she wouldn't leave until she found what she was looking for. The Heartstone grew warmer, its pulse quickening as she approached the center of the clearing. There, nestled between the roots of the largest oak, was a small stone altar. Its surface was covered in strange symbols that seemed to shift and change in the flickering moonlight. As she drew closer, a gust of wind swept through the grove, carrying with it a chorus of whispers. They brushed against her skin like ghostly fingers, murmuring words she couldn't quite make out. Aurora reached out, her hand trembling as she brushed her fingertips against the cold stone of the altar. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, until they formed a single word, spoken in a voice that was both ancient and achingly familiar. "Aurora..." She snatched her hand back as if burned, her heart racing. The air around her seemed to thicken, pressing in on her from all sides. She could feel eyes on her, watching from the shadows, waiting. "Who's there?" she called out, her voice shaking. "Show yourself!" For a moment, there was only silence. Then, from the darkness between the trees, a figure emerged. It was tall and slender, with skin as pale as moonlight and hair that flowed like liquid silver. Its eyes were black pits that seemed to swallow the light, and its smile was a slash of crimson across its face. Aurora stumbled back, her hand flying to the knife at her belt. The figure moved with preternatural grace, gliding across the clearing until it stood before her, close enough that she could feel the chill radiating from its body. "You should not have come here, little one," it whispered, its voice like the rustling of dead leaves. "This place is not meant for mortals." Aurora's throat was dry, her tongue heavy in her mouth. She tried to speak, but no words came out. The figure tilted its head, a gesture that was both curious and predatory. "But you are not entirely mortal, are you?" it continued, reaching out to trace a cold finger along her jawline. "You bear the mark of the old ones. The Heartstone sings for you." The pendant at her throat burned like a brand, and Aurora gasped as a flood of images filled her mind. A woman with eyes like stars, her hands weaving threads of light and shadow. A man with antlers sprouting from his brow, his laughter echoing through a forest of crystal trees. A city of silver and gold, its towers reaching towards a sky filled with unfamiliar constellations. The figure watched her, its black eyes gleaming with ancient knowledge. "You have been chosen, Aurora Carter," it said, its voice a sibilant hiss. "The time of the old ways is upon us once more. And you will play your part, whether you wish to or not." With a suddenness that left her breathless, the images vanished, and the figure was gone. Aurora stood alone in the clearing, the Heartstone still pulsing against her skin, its rhythm now a frantic, desperate beat. She turned and fled, branches tearing at her clothes and skin as she ran through the darkness. The whispers followed her, a mocking chorus that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. When she finally burst from the trees and onto the familiar path of Richmond Park, the first light of dawn was just beginning to paint the sky in shades of pink and gold. She collapsed against a tree, her body shaking with exhaustion and fear. The Heartstone lay cold and still against her chest, but she knew it was only a matter of time before it called to her again. And next time, she might not be able to resist its siren song. As the sun rose higher, banishing the shadows of the night, Aurora pushed herself to her feet and began the long walk home. But even as the warmth of the new day seeped into her bones, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. That she had crossed a threshold from which there was no return. The old ways were waking, and she was a part of them now, whether she liked it or not.