Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPCEFRBMS5A4EER7X0KPZY

Aurora Carter, or Rory as her friends called her, stepped into the Fae Grove, her breath misting in the chill night air. The ancient oak standing stones loomed around her, their gnarled branches twisting like skeletal fingers against the moonlit sky. She had come here for a reason, lured by the faint pulse of warmth against her skin, the Heartstone Pendant around her neck glowing softly, as if in anticipation. The grove was eerily silent, the usual rustle of nocturnal creatures absent. The wildflowers, usually vibrant and blooming year-round, seemed to wilt under her gaze, their petals curling inward as if in fear. Rory's fingers tightened around the pendant, her heart pounding in her chest. She had heard stories about this place, about how time moved differently here, how it was a pocket between Earth and the Fae realm. But she hadn't expected the oppressive sense of wrongness that settled over her like a shroud. She took a tentative step forward, her boots crunching on the frost-kissed grass. The sound echoed unnaturally loud in the stillness, and she winced, glancing over her shoulder. The standing stones seemed to lean in, their shadows stretching towards her like welcoming arms. She shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around her. A soft whisper of movement caught her attention, and she spun around, her eyes scanning the darkness. Nothing. Just the swaying branches and the whispering leaves. She exhaled sharply, her breath fogging the air. "Get a grip, Rory," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just the wind." But even as she spoke, she knew it wasn't just the wind. There was something else here, something watching her. She could feel it, a prickling sensation at the back of her neck, a cold breath against her skin. The pendant pulsed again, its warmth a stark contrast to the creeping chill that seeped into her bones. She took another step, and then another, her eyes darting from side to side. The grove seemed to stretch out before her, the trees growing denser, their branches intertwining to form a natural cathedral. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. She could swear she saw figures moving in the periphery, just out of sight, their forms wispy and insubstantial. A twig snapped behind her, and she whirled around, her heart hammering in her chest. "Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing through the grove. "Is someone there?" Silence greeted her, heavy and oppressive. She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She should leave. She should turn around and run, put as much distance between her and this place as possible. But something held her back, a compulsion she couldn't explain. The pendant pulsed again, its glow intensifying. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and stepped further into the grove. The air grew colder, the shadows darker. She could hear whispers now, soft and insistent, like voices carried on the wind. They seemed to beckon her, drawing her deeper into the heart of the grove. She walked on, her steps slow and measured. The whispers grew louder, more insistent. She could make out words now, though they made no sense. They were in a language she didn't know, a language that seemed to twist and turn in her mind, eluding her understanding. A soft glow caught her eye, and she turned towards it. A small clearing opened up before her, the grass here lush and green despite the frost. In the center stood a stone altar, its surface carved with strange, intricate symbols. The glow emanated from the altar, a soft, pulsating light that seemed to dance and flicker like a living thing. Rory approached the altar, her steps hesitant. The whispers grew louder, more insistent. She could feel the power radiating from the altar, a palpable force that seemed to press against her, pushing her back. She resisted, her feet rooted to the spot. She reached out a hand, her fingers hovering just above the surface of the altar. The symbols seemed to shift and change, their meanings eluding her. She could feel the power thrumming beneath her fingers, a steady, rhythmic pulse that seemed to echo the beating of her heart. She took a deep breath, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. The moment she made contact, the world around her seemed to explode. The whispers grew deafening, a cacophony of voices that seemed to scream and wail in her mind. The glow from the altar intensified, its light blinding, searing her eyes. She stumbled back, her hand flying to her chest, her fingers clutching at the pendant. The warmth of the Heartstone was a stark contrast to the cold that seemed to seep into her very soul. She could feel the power of the grove, the ancient, primal force that seemed to pulse and throb like a living thing. She turned to run, her feet pounding against the ground. The grove seemed to shift and change around her, the trees twisting and turning, their branches reaching out like grasping hands. She could hear the whispers behind her, the voices growing louder, more insistent. She could feel their breath on her neck, their fingers brushing against her skin. She ran on, her heart hammering in her chest, her breath ragged and uneven. She could see the standing stones up ahead, their gnarled branches reaching out like welcoming arms. She ran towards them, her feet slipping and sliding on the frost-kissed grass. As she reached the boundary of the grove, she glanced back, her eyes scanning the darkness. The whispers seemed to fade, the voices growing quieter, more distant. She could still feel the power of the grove, the ancient, primal force that seemed to pulse and throb like a living thing. But it was fading, receding into the distance. She turned away, her steps quick and hurried. She could feel the cold breath of the grove on her neck, the whispers echoing in her mind. She knew she would never forget this place, the ancient, primal force that seemed to pulse and throb like a living thing. She knew she would never be the same again. As she stepped out of the grove, the world seemed to shift and change around her. The standing stones seemed to lean in, their shadows stretching towards her like welcoming arms. She shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around her. She knew she should leave, put as much distance between her and this place as possible. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her, something waiting for her to return. She turned away, her steps quick and hurried. She could feel the cold breath of the grove on her neck, the whispers echoing in her mind. She knew she would never forget this place, the ancient, primal force that seemed to pulse and throb like a living thing. She knew she would never be the same again.