Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTXW6V0SN7K06E5PWK8RBPH

The ancient oak standing stones loomed in the moonlight as Aurora Carter slipped through the narrow gap between them. The Fae Grove stretched before her, a perfect circle of impossible wildflowers blooming in defiance of the November chill. Her breath fogged in the cold air as she checked her watch. Eleven forty-seven. Eva had sworn the pendant would be strongest here, at midnight. Rory tucked her hands deep into her jacket pockets, fingers curling around the Heartstone Pendant. The deep crimson gemstone pulsed faintly against her palm, warm despite the night's biting cold. Three days of research, two dead ends, and one cryptic message from an unknown number had led her here. The pendant had arrived in a plain brown box last Tuesday, no return address, just a note written in elegant script: "Find the gate. Richmond Park. The standing stones." A twig snapped to her left. Rory froze. Her eyes darted through the silver-lit darkness. Nothing but swaying grass and ancient oaks. The park was technically closed. She shouldn't be here. But the pendant's warmth had increased steadily all day until it became almost hot against her skin. Something was calling to it. Another rustle, this time from behind. She spun around. Her pulse thudded against her ribs. The wildflowers seemed to lean toward her, their impossible colors vibrant even in the moonlight. Blues too deep, reds too bright, purples that seemed to shimmer with their own light. "You're imagining things," she whispered to herself. The temperature dropped. Frost crystallized on the grass blades before her eyes, spreading outward in a perfect circle from where she stood. Rory exhaled sharply, watching her breath turn to white mist. A low hum vibrated through the ground beneath her feet. The pendant's warmth intensified until it was almost uncomfortable against her skin. She pulled it from her pocket. The deep crimson stone glowed with an inner light, casting bloody shadows across her face. Something moved at the edge of her vision. Tall and slender, disappearing behind one of the ancient oaks. Not human. Too tall. Too thin. "Who's there?" Her voice sounded small in the encroaching silence. The humming stopped. The grove fell utterly silent. No crickets. No wind. Nothing. Rory took a step backward, her shoulders bumping against one of the standing stones. The pendant's glow brightened until it illuminated the circle of wildflowers around her. The colors seemed too vibrant now, unnaturally so. Movement again. This time to her right. A flash of something pale between the trees. Not running. Walking. Deliberate. The temperature plummeted further. Rory shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of ozone and something else—something ancient and wild, like petrichor and decay. The wildflowers began to wilt before her eyes, their vibrant colors fading to gray, then black. The effect spread outward from the center of the grove, a circle of death expanding toward her. Rory clutched the pendant. "What do you want?" A whisper answered, not from any direction she could pinpoint. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. "She returns." The ground beneath her feet trembled. The standing stones vibrated with a low hum. The pendant pulsed in time with the stones, growing warmer with each beat. Another whisper, closer this time. "Malphora comes." Rory froze. No one had called her Malphora since she was a child, a name her grandmother had whispered when she thought Rory was asleep. A name from old stories, half-remembered dreams. The shadows between the trees deepened, taking on substance. Rory could almost make out shapes within them—tall, slender beings with too-long limbs and eyes that caught the moonlight. "Leave me alone." Her voice shook. A laugh, like the rustling of dry leaves. "You called us, little half-blood. You wear the key." The pendant's glow intensified until it hurt her eyes. The air crackled with static electricity. Her hair stood on end. The shadows between the trees writhed, taking form. One stepped forward. Tall as a tree, slender as a willow branch, with skin the color of birch bark and eyes like polished obsidian. Its smile revealed needle-thin teeth. "You opened the door, Aurora Carter. Now you must walk through." The ground trembled again. The standing stones began to glow with the same deep crimson as the pendant. The air shimmered between them, like heat haze on a summer road. Rory backed away until her spine pressed hard against the center stone. The pendant burned against her palm now, almost too hot to hold. "I don't understand." The being tilted its head. "But you will." It gestured toward the shimmering air between the stones. "The gate is open. The time is now." The wildflowers at her feet burst into flame, blue fire that spread outward in a perfect circle. The flames rose higher, surrounding her, cutting off any escape. The heat was intense, yet somehow cold at the same time. Rory looked from the flames to the being, then to the shimmering gate between the stones. The pendant pulsed in her hand, matching the rhythm of the standing stones' glow. "You called us," the being repeated, its voice now a chorus of whispers. "Now we answer."