AI The iron-wrought gates of Richmond Park didn't just creak; they groaned with the weight of centuries as Aurora shoved them aside. The silver chain of the Heartstone Pendant bit into the nape of her neck, the crimson gem thrumming a frantic, rhythmic heat against her collarbone.
"Great. Just brilliant," she muttered, adjusting the strap of her delivery bag.
Her trainers hit the grass with a muffled thud. Usually, the park felt like a lung for the city, a place of wide-open breaths and wandering deer. Tonight, the air felt thick, like old velvet pressing against her mouth. She navigated by the insistent pulse of the stone. Silas had told her the Grove was a myth, a bedtime story for drunk clurichauns, but the pendant knew better. It tugged her toward the deep, shadowed thickets where the stag-headed trees stood guard.
Richmond's familiar paths dissolved. Brambles snaked across the dirt, their thorns hooking into her leggings like desperate fingers. She checked her phone. The screen flickered, the clock spinning from 11:42 to 03:15 in a single heartbeat before the glass cracked.
"Well, that's forty quid down the drain."
She tucked the dead device away, her thumb brushing the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. A nervous habit. The Grove wasn't just close; it was bleeding into the world. The scent of crushed wildflowers, cloyingly sweet and overripe, replaced the damp smell of London rain.
A shadow darted between two ancient oaks. Not a deer. Too low, too jerky.
Aurora froze. She reached for the heavy Maglite in her pocket, the cold metal offering a flicker of human comfort. She didn't turn it on. In places like this, light was an invitation.
"Eva? If this is some elaborate prank to get me back to Cardiff, it's not funny."
Silence swallowed her voice. Then, a soft, wet sound. *Tick-tock. Tick-tock.*
It sounded like a clock, but the rhythm was off, more like blood dripping onto a stone. She pushed through a curtain of weeping willow branches and stumbled into the clearing.
The Grove was a cathedral of wood. Twelve massive oak stones stood in a jagged circle, their bark etched with glowing, fungal veins. Inside the ring, the grass was a vibrant, impossible emerald, shimmering despite the absence of a moon.
"Right. The delivery's here. Anyone home?"
She fumbled with her bag, pulling out the small, wax-sealed parchment Yu-Fei had insisted she bring. It wasn't a standard order of spring rolls and duck. It felt heavy, vibrating with a low-frequency hum that made her teeth ache.
A twig snapped behind the third oak stone.
"I see you," Aurora lied, her blue eyes darting toward the dark . "I'm just a messenger. Leave the tip on the stump and we can both go about our night."
"Messenger," a voice echoed .
It wasn't a single voice. It was a chorus of dry leaves and grinding stones, a sound that felt like it was coming from the base of her skull rather than the air. A figure detached itself from the shadows of the oaks.
It was tall, reaching nearly seven feet, its limbs long and spindly like winter branches. It wore a tattered coat of moss and moth-wings, but its face—or where a face should be—was a smooth, featureless mask of polished white bone. No eyes. No mouth. Just the cold, unwavering stare of a skull.
"The Empress sends her regards," Aurora said, her voice steadier than her knees . She held out the parchment.
The creature didn't move. It tilted its head, a sickening crack echoing through the silent grove. *Criddle-craddle.* The sound of its neck bones settling.
"The Heartstone," the chorus whispered. "Why does a mortal girl carry the blood of Dymas?"
"Found it in a cereal box. High fiber."
Aurora stepped back, her heel catching on a gnarled root. The pendant was no longer warm; it was searing . A dull, red glow spilled from beneath her shirt, casting long, distorted shadows across the emerald grass.
"Retrieve it," the creature commanded.
From the edges of the clearing, more things began to crawl. They weren't like the first. These were smaller, wretched things made of wet clay and tangled hair, their fingers elongated into sharp, obsidian needles. They moved with a frantic, jittery energy, their joints snapping with every step.
*Spick-spack.* Their feet hit the grass.
"Not today, boys."
Aurora didn't run. She knew the rules of the Grove—running just made the exit move further away. Instead, she ripped the wax seal off the parchment.
A blinding flash of violet light erupted from the paper. It wasn't a message; it was a flare. The wretched things shrieked, their clay bodies cracking under the magical heat. The tall creature hissed, raising a branch-like arm to shield its bone-white face.
Aurora spun on her heel, sprinting toward the gap between the two tallest stones.
The exit should have been there. It should have led back to the dry, safe grass of the park. Instead, she found herself staring at the same circle of oaks. The Grove had looped.
"Time moves differently," she hissed, recalling Silas’s warnings. "Think, Rory. Think."
She looked at the Heartstone. The crimson gem was pulsing in time with the sound coming from the trees. *Thump-thump. Thump-thump.* It wasn't just a portal key; it was a heartbeat.
The tall creature was recovering , its mossy coat smoking from the violet flash. It pointed a finger at her, and the very ground began to heave. Roots surged upward like breaching whales, seeking to snag her ankles.
"You cannot leave the circle, Malphora," the creature boomed.
"The name's Aurora!"
She dived over a lunging root, her shoulder hitting the turf hard. She scrambled up, the scent of ozone and rot filling her lungs. The smaller things were circling now, their obsidian needles glinting in the red light of her pendant.
She reached into her delivery bag again. Yu-Fei always packed extras. Her hand closed around a small porcelain jar of chili oil, heavily infused with the Empress’s "special" ingredients.
"Hope you like it spicy."
She smashed the jar against the nearest oak stone. The oil didn't just splatter; it ignited. A wall of holy, pungent flame roared upward, the scent of Sichuan peppercorns and brimstone exploding through the clearing.
The creatures recoiled from the heat. The tall one let out a sound like a falling tree, a crash of splintering wood and rage.
Aurora ignored them. She stared at the stone she had hit. The fire was revealing something—symbols carved deep into the wood that only appeared under the heat . A map. No, a sequence.
The oak stones weren't a wall; they were a combination lock.
She raced to the next stone, kicking a clay creature square in its featureless face as she passed. She didn't have more oil, but she had the Heartstone. She grabbed the pendant, ignoring the way it scorched her palm, and pressed it against the cold bark of the second stone.
The wood groaned. A deep, mechanical clunk vibrated through the earth.
"Stop her!"
The ground beneath Aurora's feet turned to liquid mud. She sank to her knees, the cold slime climbing her thighs. The bristly, needle-fingered things surged forward, sensing her entrapment. One of them caught her sleeve, its obsidian tip grazing her skin.
A line of fire erupted along her arm. The wound didn't bleed red; it bled silver.
"What the...?"
She didn't have time to process the silver blood. She lunged forward, her fingers clawing at the third stone. The mud was at her waist now, thick and smelling of stagnant ponds.
The tall creature was inches away. Its bone face loomed over her, its featureless surface reflecting the red glow of the stone.
"The blood reveals the lie," it whispered. "Mortal? No. You are a thief of skins."
"I'm just a girl from Cardiff trying to pay her rent!"
She slammed the Heartstone against the third oak.
The world tilted. The emerald grass turned to grey ash, and the sound of the city—the distant hum of the A3, the siren of an ambulance—pierced through the cloying silence of the Grove.
The mud hardened instantly, trapping her legs in solid earth.
"Almost..."
She reached for the fourth stone, but a long, wooden hand clamped around her throat. The creature’s touch was freezing , a cold that bypasses the skin and goes straight for the soul. It lifted her effortlessly, her toes dangling over the hardening ground.
"You return to the Depths, little spark."
The bone mask split down the middle, revealing a vertical maw lined with thousands of needle-teeth.
Aurora’s hand went to her wrist, her fingers brushing the crescent scar. It wasn't a scar from an accident. It was a brand.
She gripped the creature’s wrist with her silver-stained hand.
"My shift ended ten minutes ago," she gasped.
The silver blood on her fingers hissed against the creature's mossy skin. It screamed—a high, glass-shattering wail—and dropped her.
Aurora hit the ground and rolled, her hand catching the edge of the fourth stone. She didn't press the pendant this time. She pressed her bleeding wrist against the wood.
The Grove didn't just open; it shattered .
The trees dissolved into streaks of green and black. The sky rushed back in, a bruised purple London dawn.
Aurora tumbled forward, hitting cold, wet asphalt. The smell of diesel and damp pavement hit her like a blessing. She was back on the edge of the Richmond Park car park.
She lay there for a moment, chest heaving, the silver blood on her arm slowly fading back to a standard , human red. The Heartstone was cold again, a dull lump of glass on a silver chain.
A pair of headlights cut through the morning mist. A black sedan was idling near the gate, its engine a low, predatory purr.
The window rolled down. A man in a sharp, grey suit leaned out, his eyes hidden behind dark aviators despite the gloom .
"You're late with the delivery, Miss Carter."
Aurora looked down at her empty, shredded delivery bag. She looked back at the park, where the gates stood silent and ordinary.
"The client is very particular about his parchment," the man continued, his voice as smooth as oiled silk . "And he's not the type to settle for a refund."
From the shadows of the backseat, something clicked. The sound of a hammer being pulled back on a heavy revolver.