Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTYH0DXR8QWGMZJTS8HZG7S

Aurora pulled her worn jacket tighter, the damp London air clinging to her like a second skin. The delivery bike lay on its side, a crumpled mess of metal and wires, a stark contrast to the serene, hushed atmosphere of Richmond Park at night. The only illumination came from a sliver of moon peeking through the bruised clouds, casting long, distorted shadows that danced with every rustle of leaves. She'd taken a shortcut, a stupid, impulsive decision driven by the gnawing anxiety in her gut. Now, she wished she’d stuck to the main paths, the well-lit, mundane routes. A shiver, unrelated to the cold, traced a path down her spine. This place, she knew, was called The Fae Grove. Eva had mentioned it once, a whisper of a place where reality frayed at the edges. Aurora had dismissed it as fanciful nonsense, a story spun from too many late-night talks fueled by cheap wine. But now, standing at the edge of what seemed to be a clearing, a prickling sensation crawled over her skin. The air felt too still, muffling the distant hum of the city, yet alive with a thousand tiny whispers she couldn't quite decipher. She stepped forward, the crunch of gravel under her boots echoing in the unnatural quiet. Wildflowers, Eva had said, bloomed year-round. Aurora squinted, trying to make out shapes in the gloom. She saw them then, pale ghosts of color against the dark earth, their petals luminous in the moonlight. They were bent, twisted, as if caught in an eternal, silent scream. Her hand instinctively went to her neck, fingers brushing against the cool silver chain of the Heartstone Pendant. It nestled against her collarbone, a comforting weight, yet tonight it felt… different. A faint warmth emanated from the crimson gem, a subtle vibration against her skin. It was as if the pendant, usually a steady presence, was reacting to something, sensing a shift in the air, in the very fabric of this place. She scanned the perimeter of the clearing, her blue eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, darting from one patch of darkness to another. Ancient oak standing stones, like weathered sentinels, marked the boundary of the grove. They were cloaked in shadow, their rough surfaces appearing to ripple, to shift just at the edge of her vision. Aurora took a deep breath, trying to ground herself. She was Rory. She didn't do fanciful nonsense. She dealt with facts, with the tangible. But this place… it defied logic. A sound, faint and reedy, drifted from the trees. A child’s laughter, high and unnerving, seemed to weave through the rustling leaves. Aurora froze, her blood turning to ice. There shouldn't be anyone else here. Not at this hour, not in this remote patch of park. The laughter, innocent in its tone, was laced with something ancient and predatory that sent a fresh wave of dread creeping up her throat. She strained her ears, listening. The laughter stopped as abruptly as it had begun, leaving behind an even more profound silence. The kind of silence that presses in on you, that feels heavy with unspoken things. Aurora took a cautious step back, her gaze fixed on the dense treeline. Shadows deepened, coalescing into shapes that seemed to writhe and stretch. Was that a flicker of movement? A pair of eyes reflecting the meager moonlight? It was gone before she could be sure, leaving only the persistent, creeping certainty that she was being watched. Not by one set of eyes, but by many. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the oppressive stillness. She fumbled in her pocket, her fingers closing around the smooth, worn surface of her phone. No signal. Of course, no signal. She was in a place where the ordinary rules didn’t apply. The warmth from the pendant intensified, a pulsing thrum against her chest, almost a warning. A twig snapped behind her. Aurora whipped around, her breath catching in her throat. Nothing. Just the gnarled roots of an old oak, its branches reaching like skeletal fingers towards the sky. But the sound had been too distinct, too close. It wasn't the random crackle of a dry leaf underfoot. It was deliberate. She started walking, not running, but moving with a newfound urgency. Her eyes refused to stop scanning, catching glimpses of things that weren't there when she focused. A fleeting shadow detaching itself from a tree trunk, a glint of something sharp and metallic far in the undergrowth. The air grew colder, the kind of biting cold that seeped into your bones, never mind the jacket. She rounded a cluster of the standing stones, their rough surfaces suddenly seeming to pulse with a faint, internal light. A breath hitched in her throat. The laughter was back, closer this time, a child’s giggle tinged with a malicious glee. It seemed to come from all around her, echoing from the trees, from the very stones themselves. Aurora stumbled, her heel catching on an exposed root. She went down hard, the impact jarring her teeth. The pendant swung against her chest, its warmth now a burning heat. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the scrape of bark on her palms. The clearing seemed to have shifted, the trees closing in, their branches interlacing overhead, forming a canopy that blocked out even the sliver of moon. She was trapped. The realization hit her with the force of a physical blow. The whispers intensified, swirling around her, a chorus of sibilant sounds that were almost words, almost promises. Aurora squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the encroaching darkness, the disembodied laughter. She could feel it now, a tangible presence, the weight of unseen eyes upon her. Something was here. Something ancient. And it was aware of her.