Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTYMQR2A5XE7PC8DWTHF0XM

The stone oaks loomed ahead, their bark pale and bleached like old bone. Aurora Carter paused, the toes of her boots hovering over the threshold. The air shimmered here, a faint distortion rippling like heat off asphalt, but this heat carried a chill. Her wrist burned. The small crescent scar on her left hand throbbed in time with the pulse of the Heartstone pendant beneath her shirt. She pulled the crimson gem out, watching the inner light flare, brightening to match the rhythm of a second heartbeat. "The Veil wears thin tonight." Isolde stood amidst the trees, silver hair spilling down her back like liquid mercury. The Half-Fae didn't turn, her pale lavender eyes fixed on the space between the two central monoliths. She wore no coat despite the London winter, her feet bare on the frost-slicked grass. Rory pocketed the stone and glanced back. The sprawling city lights of Richmond flickered in the distance, a comforting grid of orange and gold. Ahead lay only shadow and the promise of something else. "After you, then." A patch of darkness detached itself from the trunk of a nearby chestnut. Nyx rose, their humanoid silhouette elongating until they stood a full head taller than Rory. The violet glow of their eyes cast faint illumination on the moss. They offered a hand, fingers tapering into smoke. "I dislike places where the rules of physics are merely suggestions." Rory gripped the hilt of the Fae-Forged blade at her hip. The moonsilver metal bit into her palm, freezing cold. It grounded her. "Physics went out the window the moment a shadow started buying me drinks." She stepped forward. The sensation hit her gut like a missed step on a staircase. Gravity twisted. The smell of exhaust fumes and damp rotting leaves vanished, replaced instantly by the scent of ozone and crushed jasmine. The transition was absolute. One moment, winter in London. The next, eternal twilight. Rory spun around. The monoliths were gone. The city was gone. A dense canopy of twisted ironwood trees arched overhead, their leaves shimmering with bioluminescent veins of violet and blue. The sky above wasn't a solid ceiling but a swirling tapestry of indigo clouds, motionless yet shifting. "Beautiful, isn't it? In the way a venomous snake is beautiful." Nyx drifted closer to a massive fern that unfurled from the forest floor. The fronds trembled at their proximity, recoiling from the cold aura of the Shade. Isolde glided forward, her movements silent. No sound came from her passage. No footprints marked the loam where she stepped. "We do not tread on the Grove, Rory. We tread within it. Mind your thoughts. The flowers listen." Rory swallowed hard and tightened her grip on the dagger. She looked down. Wildflowers bloomed in patches of vibrant orange, electric blue, and neon pink. None of them looked like Earth flora. One resembled a trumpet made of glass, another a cluster of grapes that hissed softly as the wind brushed past. "Where is this?" "Between." Isolde pointed a slender finger toward a path that wound deeper into the wood. It wasn't dirt, but a carpet of moss so thick and spongy it looked like green velvet. "You are in the pocket. The space where the Fae Courts touch your world, just a breath away. Time here is... fluid." Rory checked her watch. The second hand stuttered, ticking forward three times, then snapping back once. "Fluid. Right." She took a breath. The air tasted sweet, cloying, like overripe fruit. It coated the back of her throat. "Keep moving." They walked. The path sloped downward, spiralling into the heart of the grove. The trees grew denser, their branches interlocking to form a living tunnel. Occasional gaps in the foliage revealed glimpses of impossible geometry—triangles that shouldn't close, circles that seemed to spiral inward forever. Nyx kept close to Rory, their shadow form flickering whenever they passed a patch of particularly strong light filtering through the canopy. "The light here is abrasive. It feels like it's trying to scrub the darkness right off me." "Perhaps it is." Rory stumbled over a root that hadn't been there a second ago. She caught herself, the Heartstone flaring hot against her chest. The root wriggled, pulling back into the earth. She froze. "Did that root just move?" "Everything here moves. Everything here eats. Eventually." Isolde stopped before a clearing. The space opened up into a vast amphitheatre of white stone. In the centre stood a pool of water, still as glass. But it didn't reflect the sky. It reflected a different place entirely—a burning landscape under a amber sun. Rory felt a pull. A magnetic tug in her chest. The pendant seared her skin, demanding she step closer. "What is that?" She approached the pool's edge. The water was black, yet the reflection showed fire and vineyards. "A window. And a warning." Isolde stood beside her, her reflection absent from the water. Only the burning landscape remained. "That looks like Dymas." Rory recognised the description from the old texts she’d been scouring since receiving the pendant. The endless feasts. The vineyards. "Gluttony has a scent. It carries even across the Veil." Nyx leaned over the water, their form distorting the image. "The Prince has been busy." The surface of the pool rippled. A face formed in the reflection, twisted and screaming, before a hand seemed to reach up from beneath the water—on the other side. Rory jumped back, drawing the Fae-Forged blade. The silver edge hummed, a low, dangerous note. The water settled. The image returned to the amber fields. "It cannot hurt you. Not yet." Isolde turned away from the pool, her silver hair swirling around her legs as if caught in an underwater current. "But the rift is widening. The solstice approaches." Rory stared at the blade, then at the water. The cold metal in her hand vibrated, resonating with the pulse of the pendant. "Why show me this?" "Because you carry the key." Isolde gestured to the pendant. "And because the path to Dymas begins where the shadows fall longest." Nyx drifted toward a cluster of ancient ruins on the far side of the clearing. Massive pillars, broken and overgrown with luminescent ivy, stood like the bones of giants. "I know a thing or two about long shadows." Rory sheathed the dagger, though she didn't let go of the hilt. The unease coiled in her stomach, tightening with every breath of that sweet, heavy air. This place was beautiful, yes. A masterpiece of nature and magic twisted together. But it was also a cage. The way the trees watched them, the way the flowers turned their heads... "Where to?" "To the Stones of Memory. They remember the way between worlds." Isolde began to walk again, her feet barely touching the ground. "Stay close. The Grove is playful tonight." Rory followed. The further they went, the quieter the world became. The strange chimes of the forest died away, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence. Even the glowing leaves seemed to dim, as if holding their breath. Ahead, the ruins loomed. Statues of faceless gods lined the path, their hands outstretched. Rory passed one, feeling a static charge raise the hairs on her arms. "I feel like I'm being sized up." "You are meat. Magic. Potential." Nyx whispered, their voice sounding like wind through dead leaves. "To this place, you are a new flavour." Rory swallowed, her throat dry. She pushed a branch aside, wincing as the leaves brushed her skin. They felt like wet silk. They entered the shadow of the ruins. The temperature plummeted. The air here wasn't just cold; it was ancient. It carried the dust of millennia. At the centre of the ruin lay a circle of flat stones. In the middle of the circle, a single sapling grew. It was black, thorny, and barren, stark against the vibrant life of the rest of the grove. Isolde stopped before it. "This is the anchor. The point where the Veil is held together by sheer will." Rory stepped forward. The pendant burned now, a steady, unrelenting heat against her sternum. "It looks dead." "It sleeps. And it dreams of fire." Isolde reached out a hand. She didn't touch the sapling, but hovered her fingers inches from the black thorns. "Rory. Place the pendant on the stone." Rory looked at the Heartstone, then at the dead tree, then at Nyx. The Shade flickered, their violet eyes unreadable. "You sure that's a good idea?" "Good is a mortal concept. Necessity is universal." Rory untangled the chain from her neck. The moment the gem left her skin, the warmth vanished, replaced by a sudden, biting chill. She held the crimson stone in her palm. It pulsed, casting red light over the grey stones. She stepped into the circle. The silence shattered. A sound like a thousand church bells ringing underwater exploded in her ears. The ground shook. The black sapling shuddered, its thorns elongating, reaching toward the stone in her hand. Rory didn't drop it. She forced her hand to stay steady. "What's happening?" "It sees you." Isolde's voice was calm, barely audible over the ringing. "Show it the blade." Rory drew the Fae-Forged dagger with her free hand. The moonsilver flared, a brilliant white arc cutting through the unnatural gloom. The light from the blade hit the Heartstone. The red light fractured. The ringing stopped. The sapling froze. Then, slowly, it recoiled, folding in on itself until it looked like a dried stick again. Rory exhaled, a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her knees shook. "Well. That wasn't ominous at all." Nyx drifted closer, reforming into a solid shape. "On the contrary. That was remarkably hospitable. It could have simply erased you from existence." "The choice is made." Isolde walked into the circle, standing before Rory. She reached out and took the pendant from Rory's loose grip. As she touched it, the silver chain turned to gold in her hand, then back to silver. "The Veil recognizes you now. The path is open." She handed it back. "Don't lose that." Rory fastened the chain around her neck, the skin at her throat still stinging from the cold. "Where exactly does this path go?" Isolde pointed to the ground at Rory's feet. Rory looked down. The moss had died. In its place was a spiral of ash, slowly unspooling, leading into the darkness beneath the ruins. "Down."