Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQ86PSJ7086AC8NEMYDR68

The Heartstone Pendant lay heavy against Rory’s collarbone, its crimson glow bleeding through her shirt like a slow, steady heartbeat. She adjusted the strap of her backpack, the weight of the takeout containers inside shifting with the motion. The standing stones loomed ahead, their gnarled oaks twisting into the night sky like skeletal fingers. Richmond Park should’ve been empty at this hour—just the rustle of wind through grass, the distant hum of the city beyond the trees. But the air here was too still. Too *thick*. She exhaled through her nose, fog curling in the cold. "Alright, you paranoid git. It’s just a delivery." Her boots crunched over frost-kissed gravel as she stepped past the stones. The moment she crossed the boundary, the world tilted. The trees ahead blurred, their trunks stretching, warping—then snapping back into place. Rory froze. Her pulse hammered in her throat. The pendant pulsed once, warm against her skin, then stilled. "Right. Time’s wonky here. Eva warned me." Eva had been insistent. *Take the Heartstone. The Grove’s safe, but only if you’ve got the pendant. And don’t stay past midnight.* Rory had rolled her eyes at the time. Now, she wished she’d asked more questions. The clearing opened before her, bathed in silver moonlight. Wildflowers glowed faintly, their petals shimmering like scattered stars. At its center stood a cottage, its thatched roof sagging under the weight of ivy. Smoke curled from the chimney, the scent of burning cedar sharp in the air. Rory’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. Someone was home. Someone who’d ordered enough food to feed a small army, judging by the weight of the bag. She knocked on the door. No answer. "Hello?" The word echoed, swallowed by the night. A gust of wind rattled the windows. Rory jumped, then cursed under her breath. "Get a grip, Carter." She tried the handle. The door creaked open. Inside, the cottage was warm, the fire in the hearth crackling. A table sat in the center, laden with plates—empty, but set for a feast. Candles flickered, their wax dripping onto the wood like slow tears. Rory’s stomach twisted. The food in her bag suddenly felt like a bribe. "Hello?" she called again, louder this time. A whisper slithered through the room. Not words. Just breath, hissing against her ear. Rory spun. The doorway was empty. The pendant flared hot against her chest. She yanked it out, the crimson gem pulsing in time with her heartbeat. The glow cast long shadows across the walls, stretching, twisting— Something moved in the corner. Rory’s breath hitched. A figure crouched there, too still, too *wrong*. Its limbs bent at angles that made her teeth ache. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t anything. The figure tilted its head. A sound like wet paper tearing filled the room. Rory stumbled back, her heel catching on the threshold. The door slammed shut behind her. The fire roared, flames licking the ceiling. The plates on the table rattled, then shattered, one by one. The whispering grew louder, a chorus of voices overlapping, chanting in a language that made her skull vibrate. The pendant burned now, searing her palm. She clenched her fist around it, the pain grounding her. "What the hell do you want?" The figure stood. Its mouth stretched too wide, too many teeth glinting in the firelight. It took a step forward. Rory didn’t wait for another. She lunged for the door, her fingers scrambling for the handle. The wood was slick under her touch, like wet skin. The door wouldn’t budge. Behind her, the thing laughed—a sound like breaking glass. The pendant’s glow flared blindingly bright. Rory shielded her eyes. When she lowered her hand, the figure was gone. The cottage was silent. The fire had died. The table was bare. Rory’s breath came in ragged gasps. She pressed her back against the door, her fingers trembling as she fumbled with the handle. This time, it opened. Outside, the Grove was different. The wildflowers had wilted, their petals blackened. The standing stones were cracked, their surfaces etched with symbols that hadn’t been there before. The moon hung low, bloated, its light sickly. Rory didn’t look back. She ran. The pendant’s glow flickered, then dimmed. The crimson light pulsed weakly, like a dying heartbeat. She didn’t stop until she reached the edge of the park. Until the distant hum of the city drowned out the whispering in her ears. Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone. Eva’s name flashed on the screen. Rory’s thumb hovered over the call button. The pendant was cold now. Dead. She swallowed hard. "Yeah. It’s me. We need to talk."