Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7V1Y2G0Q1K5A4T5JB67GK

Aurora’s boots crunched over leaf litter that wasn’t there an hour ago. She’d parked her bike behind a gorse bush at the edge of Richmond Park, tucked her hood lower, and followed the yellowed ribbon Eva had scrawled on her wrist before she’d vanished. *Hel portal*, the text had read. *Follow the Heartstone*. The ribbon had led her here: to a clearing ringed by standing stones, their bark-scabbed trunks older than the monarchy, older than the Romans. The sky was a bruise of purple and indigo, no stars cutting through. The air smelled like wet earth and something sharper—brass, maybe, or rot. Her hand went to the pendant under her sweatshirt. The Heartstone pulsed, low and warm, like a beat too slow for a human heart. It had started flicker­ing the second she’d entered the park, then blazing when she crossed the stone circle’s edge. Now it throbbed hard enough to sting through her shirt. “Eva,” she muttered, voice cracking. *Breathe*, Rory told herself. Cool-headed, intelligent. *Think*. A twig snapped. Not a squirrel. Too deliberate. She spun. Nothing but ferns, their fronds coiled like fists. The flowers—wild, thriving—were wrong. Reds so vivid they looked painted, purples so deep they blacked out in the low light. Thorns jutted from their petals, glinting. She’d never seen blooms hold thorns in November. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fumbled it out. Screen dead. No service. Not even that weird 3G blip she got sometimes here. *Of course*. She’d left her laptop at the restaurant—no way to call Yu-Fei for backup, no way to check the tracker Eva had mentioned. Just her and the pendant and this damn clearing. The hum started then. Low, a vibration in her bones. Not the wind. The stones hummed. She leaned in, squinting at the carvings—spirals, triangles, what looked like a snake eating its tail. Fae runes? Eva had mentioned the Grove was Fae-touched, but she’d never said *this* Fae-touched. A shadow passed over her. Not the sun—there was no sun. It was too wide, too angular. She turned again. Nowhere. Only the stones, silent, watching. Her watch ticked. She listened. *Tick. Tick. Tick*. Slow. Too slow. A normal second was one beat; this felt like half. She fumbled for her phone, held it up to the light. The screen read 11:07. She’d left the restaurant at 10:52. No way. The park’s main gate was a 20-minute walk from the bike. Time here must be off. The Grove’s *behavior*, the wiki had said—*an hour inside can be minutes or days outside*. The hum rose. A low wail that made her teeth ache. She pressed the pendant to her chest. It was searing now, hot enough to burn through her hood. “Stop,” she said, louder. Her voice shook. *Calm*. A flower unfurled at her feet. Its petals were black, not purple. Thorns dripped clear fluid—blood? She stepped back. It shrank, retreating into the undergrowth. Footsteps. Soft, deliberate. Not her own. She spun. Nothing. But the trees had shifted. The standing stones weren’t in a circle anymore. They were—*moving*. Just a hair, but enough that the gap between them had narrowed. Before, she could see the park’s edge through a break; now, the stones loomed, blocking the way. “Eva?” Her voice was a whisper. *Please be Eva*. No answer. Just the hum, getting louder. She clawed at her wrist—*her scar*, the crescent from when she’d fallen off the backyard shed at 10. She pressed the skin, willing her hands to stop trembling. *Think*. What had Eva said? *The Heartstone leads to Hel*. *Don’t let them see you flinch*. A head emerged from the trees. Not a deer. A man. Tall, too tall, with a face like cracked porcelain. His eyes were black pits. He smiled. Aurora’s throat went tight. She backed into a stone. Its surface was cold, slimy. Moss? No. Something else, wet and alive. The man took a step forward. The thorns on the flowers lashed out, wrapping around her ankles. She fell, scraping her palms. The pendant tore free, clattering to the ground. It blazed, a red sun in the clearing, and the man staggered back, his face contorting. “Malphora,” he said. The voice was a chorus, men and women, overlapping. “You think we’d forget you?” She scrambled for the pendant. It was alive, pulsing so hard it left a red mark on her palm. “Who are you?” “Guests,” he said. He reached out a hand, and a thorn shot from his finger, nicking her cheek. Blood welled. She tasted iron. “You came to *our* realm, little one. Now you eat our soil.” Trees creaked. Not wind. *Moaning*. The flowers stood, their thorns glinting, and closed in. Aurora scrambled backward, tripping over a root that wasn’t there before. It coiled around her ankle, squeezing. She yelped. “Let me go!” “Laila,” the man said, and her blood ran cold. That was one of her aliases—she’d used it once in Brighton, after Evan first hit her. No one knew. *No one*. The roots tightened. She kicked, but they were too strong. The man took another step. His face wasn’t cracked porcelain anymore. It was Evan’s. The abused ex who’d broken her phone and told her she’d never leave. But his eyes were black, and his mouth stretched too wide, past his ears. “You *fled*,” he said, the chorus joining in. “But we *waited*. We always *wait*.” A thorn pressed to her throat. Not sharp enough to break skin, but firm. She could feel it, cold and slimy, as it bore down. The pendant glowed beside her, and the roots loosened. *Help*—she thought, and it echoed, a high, thin note. A sound split the hum. A roar, like thunder, but deep, underground. The thorns receded from her throat. The man-Evan staggered, his black eyes flicking to the stones. They were glowing now, the runes lighting up, casting red shadows. The ground shook. A portal opened in the center of the clearing, a tear in the air that sucked in the light. The flowers wilted, their petals turning to ash. “Run,” the man-Evan said, and the chorus sang. “Run while you can.” Aurora爬起来, her chest heaving. The pendant burned against her palm, and she dropped it, but it hovered, floating over the portal. *Go*, it said. *Get out*. She ran. The trees parted, then closed again, as if laughing. The stones screamed—*not* a sound, but a feeling, a static in her brain. She tripped, and the root snagged her coat, tearing it. But she pulled free, her boots flying. The portal grew, swallowing the clearing. She could smell rain, even though the sky was clear. The air smelled like home—Cardiff, the bay, the pub she’d worked at before Evan. “Rory!” Her name, spoken soft, sad, by someone she loved. She turned. Eva stood at the edge of the stone circle, her hands out. But her eyes were black, too. “Eva?” “Come,” Eva said. The wind picked up, carrying her words. “We’re glad you’re here.” The portal roared, and a hand shot through—pale, with black nails. Aurora screamed. She turned, running back, but the trees were behind her now. The ground opened up, a pit of darkness, and she fell. She hit the pendant. It blazed, and the world went white. When she came to, her chest ached. The Heartstone was in her hand, cool now, and the sky was light. She was on the path, her bike where she’d left it. The park was quiet, save for a bird calling. Her cheek stung. She touched it; a strip of skin was missing. The thorns had left a mark. She checked her phone. No signal. No time stamp—only 11:12. She put the pendant back under her shirt. It was still warm. And somewhere, deep in her bones, she knew. They were still watching. And they were *hungry*.