AI The ancient stone pulsed, a low, rhythmic hum Aurora felt more than heard, resonating deep in her bones. She reached out, her fingers brushing the cold, rough surface of the largest standing stone, the faint crimson glow of the Heartstone Pendant warm against her skin. Moonlight, thin and watery, struggled to pierce the dense canopy above, casting skeletal shadows that danced with every rustle of leaves.
"Isolde?" she whispered into the oppressive quiet. Her voice sounded brittle, alien in the deep stillness. The air tasted of damp earth and something distinctly metallic, like old pennies, but sharper, beneath the sweetness of the perpetual wildflowers.
She had followed the half-remembered directions, the cryptic clues left in a forgotten journal. *The Grove calls to those who are lost *, it read. *Only in the deepest shadows will the truest path reveal itself *. Aurora, feeling lost in the labyrinth of her own life, had been desperate enough to listen. Richmond Park at this hour was usually empty, a sprawling, dark expanse under the quiet vigilance of the moon. But this clearing, this Fae Grove, felt profoundly different. Time shifted here, a fact Isolde had warned about, but Aurora still clutched at the idea it wouldn't warp too much.
A twig snapped behind her. Rory spun, hands instinctively rising. Nothing. Just the vast, inky blackness beyond the halo of the stones. The scent of copper grew stronger, a cloying, heavy aroma that prickled the back of her throat. She shifted her weight, the damp ground soaking through the thin soles of her trainers. Her breath hitched. The air suddenly turned cold, so profoundly cold it felt like a physical pressure .
"Hello?" The word was barely a breath.
A high-pitched giggle, sharp and brittle, skittered through the trees, dying as quickly as it came. It was too close, too childlike, too devoid of human warmth . Aurora’s heart hammered a frantic drum against her ribs. The pendant vibrated against her chest, a frantic tremor. Not just warmth now, but a searing heat .
She took a cautious step, her bright blue eyes straining to pierce the gloom . The wildflowers — impossibly vibrant, deep purples and startling golds, even in this near darkness — seemed to sway of their own accord, no breeze stirring them. The ground beneath her felt unnaturally soft, yielding.
Another snap, closer this time, accompanied by a faint scuttling sound, like something too large dragging itself through the undergrowth. Rory held her breath, listening. The sounds stopped when she did. Her quick, out-of-the-box mind was racing , trying to rationalise. A badger? A fox? The logical answers felt flimsy, dissolving like mist in the face of this growing wrongness.
A shadow detached itself from the deeper darkness at the edge of the clearing. It was tall, impossibly thin, and moved with a disjointed, jerky grace that made Aurora’s stomach churn . It wasn't human. It couldn't be. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. It paused, a mere outline against the faint glow of the distant city lights, then dissolved back into the trees.
"What was that?" she demanded, her voice shaking .
No answer, only the relentless chirping of unseen crickets, a shrill symphony that grated on her nerves. She felt observed, every inch of her skin prickling with the sensation of countless eyes. The Fae Grove always felt like eyes were on you, Isolde had said, but this felt different. Not curious, but predatory .
She backed away slowly towards the nearest standing stone, her fingers reaching for its solid, grounding presence. The stone felt warm now, radiating a faint, internal heat that mirrored the pendant. Leaning back against the moss-covered rock, she tried to slow her racing thoughts. Evan's cruel words, Cardiff's murky streets, even the comforting bustle of London, all felt a million miles away. This was a place beyond maps, beyond reason.
A low growl ripped through the air. It wasn’t an animal growl, not precisely . It was too deep, too guttural, as if it was torn from the very earth itself. The wildflowers suddenly wilted, their vibrant colours fading to a sickly grey. The scent of copper intensified, sharp and metallic enough to taste on her tongue. It registered then: *blood *.
Aurora swallowed hard, her throat painfully dry. She scanned the tree line, her gaze darting through the oppressive silhouettes. The sense of isolation was absolute, crushing. No birds sang, no wind rustled. Only the distant, thrumming hum of the stone and that chilling growl.
A single, shimmering leaf detached itself from a towering oak, spiralling in slow motion to the ground. It was crimson, vibrant, even in the dim light. But it was not autumn. It was midsummer. The Fae Grove, indeed.
"Show yourself," she called out, a desperate plea rather than a challenge .
The growl intensified, closer now, a low rumble that vibrated through the soles of her trainers, up her legs, straight into her chest. It was coming from all directions, an omnipresent threat. Rory’s breathing grew shallow, ragged. Her eyes darted wildly, trying to pinpoint the source, but the shadows were a living, shifting wall.
Then, a pair of eyes glowed in the darkness. Not like an animal's reflective gaze, but with an internal, malevolent light, two pinpricks of icy blue. They were low to the ground, just above the wilting wildflowers. Too low for a wolf, too wide for a cat. They blinked once, slowly , deliberately .
She felt a cold, wet touch on her ankle. Rory shrieked, scrambling away from the stone, slipping on the damp earth. She crashed to her knees, her hands sinking into the surprisingly cold, squelching ground. Her bright blue eyes widened , fixed on the patch of earth where she’d fallen. A thick, dark liquid seeped into the soil, staining her hands. It was the colour of dried blood .
The glowing blue eyes blinked again, even closer now, peering at her from the undergrowth. And then, a hand, skeletal and elongated, pushed through the leaves, its fingers tipped with needle-sharp claws. It seemed to reach for her, slowly , deliberately , as if savouring the moment . The Heartstone Pendant blazed against her skin, burning hot like a live coal.
Aurora scrambled backwards, heart pounding , adrenaline coursing through her veins. The image of the hand, impossibly long and pale, seared itself into her mind. This was not Isolde. This was something else. Something ancient and hungry.
"Get away from me!" she screamed, her voice cracking .
The blue eyes narrowed , and a faint, rasping sound, like dry leaves skittering across stone, filled the air. It was a laugh. A cruel, ancient laugh that promised nothing but terror. The elongated hand twitched, beckoning.