Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTXVJ7EW79KZCJ6PB117G54

The stones shouldn't have been warm. Rory pressed her palm against the ancient oak, its bark twisted into impossible spirals that hurt to follow with her eyes. The heat pulsed through the wood like a fever, like something sick and alive beneath the surface. Richmond Park stretched empty behind her, the November frost crackling on dead leaves, but here in the grove the air hung thick as August. "Right then." She checked her phone. No signal. Of course. The message had been specific about that. *Come alone. Midnight. The old grove past the deer enclosure. Don't tell anyone.* The pendant against her chest thrummed, matching the rhythm of the standing stones. Five of them, arranged in a rough circle, each carved from oak so old it had turned to something harder than stone. She'd thought they'd be bigger. In the photos Eva had sent, they'd looked massive, but these barely reached her shoulders. "Eva?" Her voice fell flat in the clearing. No echo. No birdsong. No wind. The wildflowers bloomed in defiance of season, their petals glowing faintly in the darkness. Bluebells and snowdrops grew side by side, summer roses tangled with autumn clematis. The smell was wrong too. Sweet rot underneath the perfume, like fruit left too long in the sun. She stepped into the circle. The world tilted. Not dramatically, just a subtle shift that made her stomach lurch. The trees beyond the stones blurred, colours bleeding together like watercolours in rain. She blinked hard. When her vision cleared, the trees had moved. Just slightly. The oak that had been directly ahead now leaned fifteen degrees left. "Eva, this isn't funny." A branch cracked somewhere behind the stones. She spun, scanning the darkness. Nothing. But the sound had been wrong. Too sharp. Too wet. Like bone, not wood. The pendant burned now, hot enough to brand. She pulled it out from under her jumper, the crimson stone casting bloody shadows across her hands. The silver chain had darkened, tarnish spreading like infection from where it touched the stone. "She's not coming." Rory's heart slammed against her ribs. A woman stood between two of the standing stones, though stood wasn't quite right. She existed there, edges flickering like a bad television signal. Pale hair floated around her face, moving in currents that had nothing to do with wind. Her dress might have been white once. Now it was the colour of old teeth. "You're early," the woman said. Her mouth didn't quite sync with the words. "Where's Eva?" "Eva." The woman tilted her head. The angle was wrong. Too far. "Such a pretty name. Musical. Like screaming." Rory took a step back. Her heel caught on something soft. She looked down. A rabbit lay in the grass, fur pristine, eyes wide and glassy. No wounds. No blood. Just wrong in the way dead things are wrong when they shouldn't be dead. "Don't mind the offerings." The woman hadn't moved but she was closer now. "The grove takes what it needs. Tonight it needs more." "I'm leaving." "Are you?" Rory turned toward the gap between stones where she'd entered. The space had narrowed. The oaks leaned inward, bark flowing like syrup, sealing the exit with glacial certainty. "The pendant." The woman's attention fixed on the heartstone. "Oh, how delicious. Do you know what you carry?" "A gift." "A key." The woman's smile revealed too many teeth. Small ones, sharp ones, arranged in neat rows like a shark's. "And you've brought it home." The ground beneath Rory's feet softened. She looked down. The grass writhed, each blade moving independently, reaching for her ankles. She stumbled sideways, away from the spreading wrongness. "Time moves strangely here." The woman circled her, always keeping the same distance. "Your friend learned that. Three days she's been here. Or three minutes. Or three years. Hard to say." "You're lying." "Am I?" The woman gestured to the center of the grove. The air shimmered and tore. Through the gap, Rory saw Eva. Her friend sat cross-legged on stone floor, head bowed, hands folded in her lap. Candles burned around her in a perfect circle, flames frozen mid-flicker. Eva's lips moved in constant prayer or plea, but no sound escaped. "Eva!" Rory lunged forward. The vision snapped shut. The woman laughed, a sound like breaking bells. "She came looking for her sister. Sweet thing. Didn't know the old stories. Didn't know you need protection in the thin places." The woman's form solidified, becoming more real and somehow more wrong. "But you do. That pendant has kept you safe so far. Kept you hidden. Until tonight." The stones began to hum. Low at first, a vibration Rory felt in her bones. The flowers glowed brighter, their light pulsing in rhythm with the pendant. The woman's expression shifted to hunger. "Give it to me." "No." "Then we do this the hard way." The woman moved. Not walked, not ran. One moment she stood across the grove, the next her fingers wrapped around Rory's throat. Cold shot through the touch, burning worse than heat. Rory's vision sparked white at the edges. "The heartstone belongs to older things than you, little mouse." The woman's breath smelled of earth and endings. "Your friend is the appetizer. You're the meal. But the stone... the stone opens the feast hall." Rory clawed at the woman's wrists. Her fingers passed through flesh that wasn't flesh, catching on nothing. The pendant flared, crimson light spilling between them. The woman hissed, jerking back. "Still has teeth, does it?" She rubbed her hands together, skin flaking away like ash. "No matter. The grove is patient. And you're already here. Already breathing our air. Already changing." Rory gasped, pulling in lungfuls of too-sweet air. Her thoughts moved like molasses. When had she last checked the time? Her phone lay in the grass, screen cracked, showing 12:00. Still midnight. Always midnight. "Feel it?" The woman circled again, predatory. "Time means nothing here. You could leave in five minutes and find five years have passed. Or five centuries. Your friend discovered that when she tried to run." Movement in the shadows between stones. Shapes that might have been human once, stretched thin and wrong, reaching with too-long fingers toward the light. The woman smiled at them fondly. "My garden grows well here. Fed by the lost and the looking. You came looking, didn't you? For answers. For your friend. For yourself." She stopped directly in front of Rory. "Tell me, what did the message really say?" Rory's hand went to her pocket. The paper was gone. Had there been a paper? She remembered words on a screen, but whose phone? Eva didn't know about this place. Rory had never told her about the pendant, about the dreams that came with it, about the door that appeared in her flat some nights, always locked, always whispering. "There we are." The woman's smile widened. "Memory gets slippery in the thin places. Did she contact you? Or did you contact yourself? Did you come here to save her, or did you bring her here to feed us?" "No." But doubt crept in like fog. The pendant had been restless lately. Pulling her toward Richmond Park on her delivery runs. Making her take wrong turns that led past ancient trees and stone circles marked on no maps. "The heartstone calls to its own kind." The woman reached out, fingers stopping just short of the pendant. "Dymas misses his toys. Especially the ones that got away. You've been away so long, little key. Time to come home." The stones screamed. High and sharp, a sound that existed beyond hearing. Rory's knees buckled. The grass reached up, wrapping around her ankles, holding her in place. The woman knelt beside her, patient as winter. "Your friend fought too. Right until the end. Right until she remembered why she really came." The woman's fingers traced patterns in the air. "Shall I show you what she remembered?" The air tore again. This time Rory saw herself, standing in Eva's flat three days ago. Or was it three years? Her own face looked wrong, eyes too bright, smile too wide. She watched herself hand Eva a piece of paper. Watched Eva's expression shift from confusion to fear to blank acceptance. "Come alone," her own voice said from the vision. "Midnight. The old grove past the deer enclosure. Don't tell anyone." The vision shattered. Rory retched, bile burning her throat. The woman petted her hair with fingers that weren't quite solid. "The heartstone has been calling them for months. Everyone you've touched. Everyone you've loved. Drawing them here to feed the grove. To open the way." She leaned close. "How many others received messages, I wonder? How many are coming?" Rory thought of Silas, of the strange look he'd given her last week when she'd asked to change her shift. Of Yu-Fei, who'd mentioned having odd dreams. Of the customers who'd started requesting her specifically for deliveries, drawn by something they couldn't name. "All of them," she whispered. "All of them." The woman stood, satisfied. "The feast begins at the thirteenth hour. When midnight ends and morning never comes. Give me the stone, and I'll make it quick. For you and them." The pendant pulsed faster now, heartbeat-quick. Rory felt its rhythm syncing with her own, felt the boundary between flesh and stone beginning to blur. The woman was right. She had been calling them. The stone had been using her, spreading its influence through every interaction, every touch, every smile. "I won't." "Won't you?" The grove shuddered. Through the gaps between stones, Rory saw them coming. Figures moving through Richmond Park like sleepwalkers, drawn by messages they'd never question, compulsions they'd never fight. Silas in his bartender's apron. Yu-Fei still in her kitchen whites. Others she recognized from deliveries, from chance meetings, from moments when the pendant had grown warm and she'd felt compelled to linger. "They trust you." The woman's voice held genuine appreciation. "That's what makes it perfect. The heartstone doesn't force. It suggests. It whispers. It makes people want to come." Eva's image flickered in the center of the grove, still praying, still silent. But now Rory saw the truth. Her friend's lips weren't moving in prayer. They were smiling. The candles around her weren't a prison. They were an altar. "She understood in the end." The woman watched Rory's recognition with delight. "The stone showed her what she'd always wanted. Power. Purpose. A place in the new world we're building. All she had to do was call you here." "Eva wouldn't-" "Eva did." The woman gestured to the approaching figures. "Just as you did. Just as they're doing. The heartstone doesn't corrupt. It reveals. Shows you what you really want and gives you permission to take it." Rory struggled against the grass holding her. The pendant burned against her chest, its pulse becoming painful. She could feel it digging deeper, roots of light spreading through her veins, rewriting her from the inside out. "Thirteen offerings to open the way." The woman counted the approaching figures. "A key to turn the lock. And a willing heart to power it all." She smiled. "Guess which one you are." The first figure reached the stones. Marcus, the regular who always ordered extra spring rolls. He stepped through the gap without hesitation, eyes vacant, drawn by promises the stone had whispered through Rory's smile. The grove accepted him, grass parting like water. He walked to the center and knelt beside Eva, taking his place in the forming circle. "Stop this." "Stop?" The woman laughed. "You started it the moment you accepted the stone. Every delivery, every conversation, every moment of human connection became a trap. You've been building this ritual for months without knowing it." More figures entered. The grove expanded to accommodate them, reality stretching like taffy. Each person took their position with mechanical precision, forming concentric circles around Eva. Their eyes reflected the pendant's light, crimson and hungry. "Almost time." The woman checked the sky, though no stars showed through the canopy. "Twelve offerings in place. The thirteenth comes willing or not." Silas was the last to arrive. He paused at the edge of the stones, some part of him fighting the compulsion. His eyes found Rory, a flicker of recognition breaking through. "Rory? What's-" The pendant shrieked. Light poured from it, crimson threads that wrapped around Silas and dragged him forward. He screamed, the sound cut short as he crossed the threshold. The fight drained from his face, replaced by the same vacant smile as the others. "Thirteen." The woman clapped her hands. "Now we just need the key to turn." She grabbed Rory's face, forcing her to look at the assembled circle. Her friends, her customers, people she'd touched however briefly, all kneeling in perfect stillness. Waiting. The grove hummed with anticipation. "You can end this," the woman whispered. "Take your place in the center. Turn the key. Open the way between worlds. It's what the stone wants. What you want, deep down. To matter. To be the center of something larger than yourself." The pendant pulled, and Rory felt herself rising. Not her body, something deeper. The part of her that had always felt separate, special, chosen. The stone had found that secret pride and fed it, nurtured it, shaped it into this moment. "That's it." The woman's voice became honey. "You've always known you were different. The stone knew it too. That's why it chose you. Why it's been preparing you. Every life you touch becomes part of the pattern. Every connection strengthens the web. You're not just the key. You're the door itself." Rory stood on shaking legs. The grass released her, recognizing surrender. She took a step toward the circle, then another. The pendant sang, harmonizing with the stones, with the grove, with the waiting faithful. "Good girl." The woman walked beside her. "Your friend understood faster, but you're stronger. The door you'll open will be magnificent. Dymas will be so pleased." Another step. The circle parted to let her through. She could see Eva clearly now, face rapturous, lost in visions of what was coming. The others swayed slightly, breathing in unison, a single organism with thirteen parts. "Just kneel." The woman guided her to the center. "Let the stone do what it was made to do. What you were made to do." Rory's knees bent. The pendant lifted from her chest, floating at the end of its chain, pulsing like a heart outside a body. The grove shuddered with anticipation. She thought of her ex, Evan. How he'd isolated her, made her question her own thoughts, her own wants. How he'd convinced her she was special only through him, only as part of his world. The pendant had done the same thing, just with better packaging. "No." The word cracked like thunder. The woman's expression shifted from triumph to confusion. "What?" "I said no." Rory grabbed the pendant, its heat searing her palm. "I'm not your key. I'm not your door. I'm just someone who made a mistake." "You can't-" Rory yanked. The chain snapped, silver links scattering like rain. The pendant shrieked, light pouring from cracks spreading across its surface. The woman lunged forward, but too late. Rory drove the stone into the ground at the circle's heart. The world exploded. Light poured from the breaking heartstone, not crimson now but pure white. It hit the kneeling figures like a wave, washing the vacant smiles from their faces. They gasped, waking from dreams that had seemed so real, so right. "What have you done?" The woman's scream shook the trees. Her form began to unravel, edges fraying like old cloth. "The door was opening! The feast was set!" "Then I guess everyone goes hungry." The grove convulsed. The standing stones cracked, ancient oak splitting with sounds like screaming. The flowers withered, seasons catching up in seconds. Summer roses became autumn leaves became winter dust. "Run!" Rory grabbed Eva, pulling her friend to her feet. Around them, the others stirred, confusion replacing blind faith. "Everyone out! Now!" They fled through the collapsing grove, reality snapping back like a rubber band. The woman's curses followed them, growing weaker as her form dissolved. The stones toppled inward, sealing whatever door they'd guarded. Rory stumbled into Richmond Park proper, the normal world hitting like cold water. Her phone buzzed with messages, timestamps that made no sense. Three minutes since she'd entered the grove. Three hours. Three different times from three different towers. "Rory?" Silas gripped her shoulder, his face pale but aware. "What happened? I was closing the bar and then... I had to come here. Had to..." "Later." She looked back at the grove. Or where it had been. Only normal trees stood there now, nothing special about them. The standing stones were gone. The flowers were gone. The woman was gone. But the scars on her palm remained, branded in the shape of a heart. "Is everyone-" She did a quick headcount. Thirteen, including herself. All accounted for. All awake. "My sister." Eva's voice was hoarse. "I remember now. She's been missing for months. I thought... in there, I thought I could find her if I just..." "If you just fed it enough." Rory pulled her friend close. "I know. It made us all think things. Want things." Sirens wailed in the distance. Someone had called the police, reporting strange lights in the park. They'd find nothing, Rory knew. The grove was good at hiding. But maybe that was finished now. Maybe breaking the heartstone had severed whatever let it exist between worlds. "We should go." Yu-Fei spoke up, practical even in shock. "Before questions we can't answer arrive." They scattered like guilty children, each returning to lives that suddenly seemed impossibly normal. Rory walked Eva home, neither speaking. Words would come later, when the impossible felt less raw. At Eva's door, her friend finally asked, "Was any of it real? The messages? The need to go there?" Rory showed her the scar on her palm. Already it was fading, but the shape remained clear. "Real enough." She made it back to her flat as dawn broke over London. The space above Silas's bar had never looked more welcoming. She collapsed on her bed, still fully dressed, and tried not to think about doors between worlds or women with too many teeth. Her phone buzzed. Unknown number. *Thank you for your offering. The grove is patient. The heartstone has sisters. Sweet dreams, little key.* Rory deleted the message and pulled the covers over her head. Outside, London woke to another ordinary day. But in Richmond Park, if you knew where to look, if you came at just the right time, you might find a circle of dead grass where nothing would grow. You might hear whispers in the wind about feasts interrupted and doors left locked. You might feel watched. The bartender downstairs mixed drinks and tried to forget. The restaurant owner cooked food and avoided her dreams. Thirteen people across London woke with scars they couldn't explain and compulsions they didn't understand to avoid parks at midnight. And somewhere, in a place between here and there, a woman with too many teeth smiled and made new plans. The heartstone was broken, but stones could be replaced. Keys could be reforged. Doors could be opened. The feast was patient. It could wait.