Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7MHVBREDX1YHYVZ2KNY9T

The ancient oaks loomed, their branches clawing at the bruised twilight sky. Rory pulled her threadbare jacket tighter around her, the chill seeping deeper than the October air warranted. Richmond Park at night held a familiar quiet, a comfortable darkness she often sought after a brutal shift at the Golden Empress. But this… this wasn’t right. This wasn't the park she knew. She stopped before the standing stones, their moss-slick surfaces radiating a damp coolness. The Heartstone pendant warmed against her skin, a subtle throb against her collarbone. It always did here. Always confirmed she was in the right place. Or, at least, the place she needed to be. The clearing beyond the stones shouldn't have existed. A perfect circle of wildflowers bloomed in defiance of the season, their vibrant colors jarring against the monochrome landscape. It was beautiful, unsettlingly so. The Fae Grove. Isolde’s grove, some called it. Rory called it a necessary evil. She hadn't intended to come back. Not after… everything. But Eva’s cryptic message, delivered via a burner phone and a trembling voice, had left her little choice. *“The resonance is growing stronger. You need to check the nexus. Please, Rory. Before it’s too late.”* Nexus. That’s what Eva called the point where the Fae realm bled most heavily into Earth. It was here, somewhere within this pocket of impossible flora and manipulated time. Rory took a tentative step into the clearing. The air thickened, tasting like honey and something else… something metallic and faintly rotten. A breeze stirred, whispering through the wildflowers, but it carried no scent of leaves or earth. Only that unsettling sweetness. A rustling sound caught her attention. She froze. Just a rabbit, she told herself. Or a squirrel. Richmond Park was teeming with them. But the sound wasn’t the skittering of small paws on leaves. It was… smoother. Like fabric being dragged across stone. She scanned the perimeter of the clearing. Shadows danced in the periphery, playing tricks on her eyes. The moonlight, filtered through the dense canopy, painted the ground in a shifting mosaic of light and darkness. Everything seemed to warp and breathe. Another rustle, closer this time. Rory’s hand instinctively went to the small pocketknife she carried—a habit ingrained from a childhood spent exploring the Welsh mountains with her father. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “Hello?” she called out, her voice sounding thin and reedy in the oppressive silence. “Is anyone there?” Only the rustling answered. It circled her now, a slow, deliberate dance just beyond her vision. She activated the flashlight on her phone, a narrow beam cutting through the gloom. The wildflowers seemed to recoil from the light, their petals curling inward as if in pain. The shadows intensified, deepening into pools of impenetrable black. Something shifted in the corner of her eye. A flicker of movement. Rory spun around, aiming the flashlight beam, but found nothing. Just the swaying wildflowers. “Stop it,” she muttered, the words a fragile defiance against the rising tide of unease. “Just… stop.” The air grew colder. A distinct smell now—cloying and sickly sweet, like overripe fruit left to rot. A twig snapped behind her. Rory whirled around again, flashlight sweeping the area. This time, she saw it. Just a glimpse, a fleeting impression of something tall and slender, disappearing behind one of the oaks. It was humanoid in shape, she thought. But impossibly elongated, its limbs too long, its movements too fluid. And it moved with a disconcerting silence. It shouldn't have been possible. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. She backed away slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the oak. The flashlight beam trembled in her hand. A low hum vibrated through the ground, a resonant thrum that seemed to crawl into her bones. The wildflowers began to glow, their petals radiating an eerie, phosphorescent light. The Heartstone pendant pulsed violently against her skin, its warmth transforming into a searing heat. Rory gasped, instinctively clutching at the chain. “Eva…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “What have I gotten myself into?” The rustling sound intensified, coalescing into a chorus of whispers. They swirled around her, unintelligible yet somehow menacing. She couldn't decipher the words, but she understood the tone—a cold, mocking amusement. A shape began to emerge from the shadows, coalescing from the darkness behind the ancient oak. It was tall, impossibly so, its form shifting and indistinct. Rory struggled to focus on it, her mind reeling. It wasn't solid. Not entirely. Parts of it shimmered, like heat rising from asphalt on a summer day. Other parts were… wrong. Twisted and elongated, with angles that defied geometry. She could sense it now, a presence radiating palpable malevolence. It wasn’t an animal. It wasn’t human. It was something… else. The whispers grew louder, closer. They seemed to be coming from the thing itself. *“Lost, little mortal?”* the whispers seemed to say, weaving together into a single voice. *“Seeking something you shouldn’t?”* Rory raised her phone, the flashlight beam unwavering. Her hand trembled, but her resolve didn’t. “What do you want?” she demanded, her voice surprisingly steady. The form shifted, resolving itself slightly. Rory could now make out a semblance of a face—or what passed for a face. It was gaunt and elongated, with eyes that gleamed like polished obsidian. *“We want…balance,”* the voice echoed in her mind, not through her ears. *“The veil weakens. The echoes grow loud. And you, little mortal, are the disruption.”* A long, skeletal finger extended from the being’s hand, pointing directly at Rory. *“The resonance…it calls to us.”* The Heartstone pendant flared with an intense crimson light, almost blinding. Rory cried out, stumbling backward. The creature seemed to lean forward, its obsidian eyes fixed on her. *“Give us the stone. And perhaps… we will let you walk away.”*