AI The drizzle slicked the path, reflecting the anemic glow of Rory’s phone. A chill , damp and persistent, had set in with the dusk. Overhead, skeletal branches writhed against a bruised sky. The entrance to Richmond Park had been simple enough to find, the wrought-iron gate a familiar sight. The path beyond, however, had dissolved into something else entirely. Thick oak trees, their trunks gnarled and ancient, pressed close, forming a tunnel. The air hung heavy, smelling of wet earth and something else, something sharp and metallic, like old blood.
She clutched the Heartstone pendant. The crimson gem, usually dormant, throbbed with a faint, insistent warmth against her palm. It had guided her here, the unknown benefactor's words echoing in her mind: *When it awakens, seek the Grove. It needs you.* Rory wasn't sure what "it" was , or what "it" might need, but the urgency in the message had been unmistakable.
The path twisted, the light from her phone struggling against the encroaching darkness. A whisper, gossamer thin, drifted from the dense undergrowth. It sounded like her name, *Aurora*, drawn out and mournful. She froze, her breath catching in her throat. The sound dissipated, leaving only the relentless patter of rain and the distant, almost inaudible drone of city life, a hum swallowed by the oppressive quiet of the woods.
She took a hesitant step forward, then another. The sound returned, closer this time, clearer. It *was * her name. A shiver traced its way down her spine . The rational part of her mind, the part that dealt with unruly pub patrons and the dizzying London traffic, tried to dismiss it as the wind. But the air was still, heavy, almost breathless.
A flicker of movement in her peripheral vision. A shadow, too quick, too fluid to be a creature. It darted between the thick trunks, a fleeting suggestion of form against the blackness. Her bright blue eyes darted, searching. Nothing. Just the endless, dripping canopy.
The sense of isolation intensified. She was not just alone; she was utterly , completely unmoored. The park had vanished, replaced by a place that felt older, wilder, entirely outside the city she knew. The standing stones, described in such vague terms by her benefactor, now loomed ahead, almost swallowed by the gloom . They were not mere rocks, but towering monoliths of dark, rough-hewn oak, their surfaces textured like ancient bark. They stood in a broken circle, marking a boundary to a clearing.
As she stepped between two of them, the change was instantaneous and profound . The rain ceased. The air grew still, infused with the scent of wildflowers – impossible, in this season, in this cold. But here they bloomed, a riot of impossible colour in the deepening twilight. The wildflowers swayed, though no breeze stirred.
A faint, almost imperceptible ringing started in her ears, a high-pitched hum that seemed to resonate within her very bones . The pendant in her fist pulsed hotter, a frantic beat.
Then, the shadows moved again. Not just one this time, but many . They coalesced at the edges of the clearing, vague, indistinct shapes that seemed to bleed into the surrounding darkness. They weren't solid, not quite, but their presence was undeniable . A cold, pressing weight settled on her chest, stole her breath.
She stood perfectly still, her heart hammering against her ribs, a frantic drum in the suffocating silence . She strained her ears, hoping to catch a stray rustle, a snap of a twig, anything to confirm they were animals, not… not what her gut screamed they were. But the silence held, vast and unforgiving, broken only by the insidious ringing in her ears.
The shapes began to shift. They elongated, twisting, becoming less like shadows and more like gaunt, starved figures. Hands, long and spindly, unraveled from the darkness, reaching. Not towards her, not yet, but out into the empty air, as if grasping at threads only they could see.
A whisper , like dry leaves skittering across stone, brushed against her ear. It wasn't the sweet, mournful call from before. This was a guttural sound, layered with a sickening rasp, a sound of ancient hunger. It spoke no words she understood, but the intent was clear, chilling her to the bone.
The ground beneath her felt wrong, almost spongy. Her foot sank slightly, a cold dampness seeping through her trainers. She looked down. Not mud, but a thick, black viscous substance that oozed between blades of grass. It glistened faintly, like oil in the dim light. It smelled like decay, like forgotten things .
One of the figures detached itself from the fringe of the trees. It moved with a jerky, unnatural grace, no discernible footsteps , just a glide. It was tall, impossibly thin, its form a patchwork of shadow and distorted angles. Two pinpricks of light, like dull embers, glowed within the featureless expanse of its head.
It stopped several yards away, its head tilting. The motion was slow, deliberate, like a predator assessing its prey. The ringing in Rory's ears intensified, a piercing whine that threatened to shatter her eardrums. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the terror, trying to hold onto the cool logic that usually anchored her.
When she opened them, the creature was closer. Its "face," if it could be called that, remained a void, but the sense of intense scrutiny was palpable , a gaze that stripped away pretense, laid bare her fear. The reach of its spindly hand, a skeletal parody of human form, extended slightly , not towards her, but past her, as if beckoning something from behind her .
A sound, a wet, sucking gasp. It came from the trees directly behind her, deep in the shadows where the other figures still lurked. It was a sound of immense pain, and of something struggling, something alive and desperate, being pulled into the blackness.
Rory’s breath hitched. She spun around, her phone light cutting a weak arc through the oppressive gloom . The shadows deepened, consumed the light before it could fully penetrate. But for a fleeting moment, she saw it: a flash of white, a pale limb disappearing into the grasping dark. The gasp, choked and broken, faded into a sickening silence .
The figure in front of her remained still, its head still tilted. The two ember-like eyes seemed to expand, growing brighter, fixing on her with an unnerving intensity . The black ooze on the ground around her seemed to pulse faintly. The pendant in her hand burned, a searing heat that promised to brand her flesh.
The creature took another step. Then another.