Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTYDQ6H5PYKMY7DF9791YWR

The London night air bit at Aurora's exposed skin as she slipped through the wrought-iron gates of Richmond Park. The moon, a sliver of silver against the velvet sky, offered little guidance through the winding paths. She clutched the Heartstone Pendant beneath her jacket, its familiar warmth a small comfort against the chill. The pendant had been pulsing for days, a steady rhythm against her chest that grew stronger each night. Two nights ago, the pulses had turned into throbs, demanding her attention. The research she'd done since receiving the mysterious artifact pointed to one place—the Fae Grove. Aurora quickened her pace, her boots crunching on the gravel path. The trees around her seemed to lean in, their branches skeletal fingers against the dim sky. She'd never been to this part of the park at night. During daylight hours, families picnicked and children played, oblivious to the pocket realm that existed just beyond their perception. The standing stones appeared suddenly at the edge of her vision, ancient oaks carved into monoliths that marked the boundary between worlds. She stepped between them, the air growing still, the city sounds fading into nothingness. "Right then, time to figure out what you want." She whispered to the pendant, its crimson gem glowing faintly against her palm. Inside the grove, wildflowers bloomed in impossible colors, their petals shimmering with an otherworldly light. Normally, the sight would have taken her breath away. Tonight, it made her stomach clench. Something was wrong. The flowers leaned away from her as she passed, their stems bending like frightened animals. The air tasted of ozone and something metallic, like blood on the tongue. Aurora circled the clearing, the pendant growing hotter with each step. The grove looked the same as she remembered from her previous visits, yet different. The stones had new markings, spirals and symbols that glowed with a faint luminescence. She traced one with her finger, the stone cold despite its appearance. A whisper caught her attention—her name, or something like it, carried on the wind that had suddenly picked up. "Hello?" Her voice sounded small in the vastness of the clearing. "Is someone there?" No answer. Just the rustling of leaves that shouldn't be moving in this windless space. The Heartstone Pendant pulsed rapidly now, almost painfully hot against her skin. She unclasped it, holding it away from her body. Its crimson glow illuminated the space around her, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to move independently of their sources. A figure darted at the edge of her vision. She turned, but saw nothing. Just more flowers, more stones, more shadows that stretched and writhed. "Show yourself." Aurora commanded, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'm not afraid of you." The lie hung in the air between them. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat echoing in her ears. A child's laughter—innocent, cruel—rippled through the grove. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The wildflowers shuddered, their colors deepening to something almost blood-like. Aurora took a step back, her heel hitting one of the standing stones. She turned to face it, but the stone wasn't stone anymore. It had developed a face—eyes that followed her, a mouth that seemed to smile without moving. "You shouldn't have come." The voice came not from the stone but from the air itself, surrounding her, pressing in on all sides. "The pendant was meant to be a warning, not an invitation." "I came for answers." Aurora replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "What is this place? What do you want from me?" The laughter returned, closer now. The ground beneath her feet felt soft, almost spongy. She looked down. The grass was receding, replaced by something dark and liquid that bubbled slowly. The pendant in her hand blazed to life, casting crimson light across the grove. In its illumination, she saw them—figures in the shadows between the trees, tall and thin with too many joints in their limbs. Their eyes reflected the pendant's glow like cats in the darkness. Aurora stumbled backwards, trying to put distance between herself and the figures. The pendant's chain cut into her fingers where she gripped it tight. "Stay back." They didn't listen. They flowed forward, their movements jerky and unnatural. The wildflowers bent away from them, withering where their shadows fell. One of them reached out, its long fingers ending in claws that gleamed like polished bone. Aurora raised the pendant like a shield. The creature flinched back, its face—what she could see of it—contorting in anger or pain. The ground continued to change, the dark liquid spreading, rising. It reached her ankles now, cold and thick. When she tried to pull away, it held her fast. "Let me go." She demanded, struggling against the viscous substance. "I'm not staying here." The figures circled her, their eyes fixed on the pendant. Their whispers filled her mind, a cacophony of voices that spoke words she almost understood—promises, threats, truths that would break her sanity. Aurora closed her eyes, focusing on the pendant's warmth. It was more than an artifact; it was a key, a weapon, a connection to something ancient and powerful. She had to remember that. When she opened her eyes, the liquid had risen to her knees. The figures were closer, their features becoming clearer in the pendant's light—hollow eyes, skin like old parchment, mouths filled with needle-like teeth. The pendant pulsed once, violently, and the figures recoiled as if struck. The liquid around her legs receded slightly, giving her a fraction more mobility. Aurora seized the moment, wrenching one leg free, then the other. She scrambled backwards, putting distance between herself and the creatures. Her back hit a standing stone. She turned, pressing herself against it. The stone was colder than before, almost painfully so. Frost spread from where her hands touched it, crystalline patterns that grew across the surface. The figures hissed, drawing back from the spreading ice. The pendant blazed in her hand, its light pushing back the shadows. The grove seemed to shrink around her, the trees drawing closer, their branches tangling overhead to block out what little light remained from the moon. The whispers grew louder, more insistent. They called her by names she didn't recognize—Laila, Malphora—titles and honors from a time she couldn't remember, a life she hadn't lived. "I'm Aurora." She said, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. "Rory. I'm not who you think I am." The figures tilted their heads, their movements synchronized, unnerving. One of them stepped forward, its clawed hand outstretched. "You are exactly who we think you are." It said, its voice like dry leaves skittering across pavement. "And you've come home at last."