Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY92EHRR107V752GBPJ3RGJ

The wrought iron gate, stubbornly ornate even in the twilight, scraped against the overgrown path as she pushed it open. Richmond Park at night was usually quiet, a hushed expanse of ancient trees and sleeping deer. This… this felt different. Wrong. Rory quickened her pace, the gravel crunching under her boots, a too-loud sound in the oppressive stillness. The air thickened as she approached the standing stones, each oak a monolith against the fading light. They were older than the park itself, older than London, she suspected. The carvings, barely visible beneath a mossy film, seemed to writhe in her peripheral vision, faces contorted in silent screams. She checked the Heartstone Pendant, a deep crimson gem nestled against her collarbone. It pulsed with a faint warmth against her skin, a steady throb that mirrored the anxious beat of her own heart. It hadn't reacted like this since… she didn’t want to think about where it had reacted like this before. This place, though. The Grove. It felt potent. Too potent. Aurora – Rory, to everyone who knew her – had come here searching for a flicker, a whisper of something. Eva had mentioned it, of course. Eva always mentioned things. Fragments of forgotten lore, rumors of anomalies, a cryptic line about "Isolde’s sanctuary." Eva, with her impossible knowledge of things that shouldn't exist. It was Eva who’d gotten her out of Cardiff, out of the suffocating weight of her father’s expectations and the ghosts of a past she desperately needed to forget. The clearing itself was bathed in an unnatural luminescence. Wildflowers bloomed riotously, a jarring splash of color against the deepening gloom. Yellows, purples, blues – hues that didn’t belong in late autumn. It smelled sweet, cloying, like overripe fruit on the verge of decay. She stepped into the clearing, the shift immediate and unsettling. The air grew heavier, a tangible weight pressing against her lungs. The rustling of leaves, a constant background noise in the park, vanished. An absolute silence descended, amplifying the frantic drumming in her ears. Rory scanned the perimeter. The oaks seemed to lean inward, their branches intertwined, forming a dark canopy that blotted out the last vestiges of the sky. She told herself it was the light playing tricks on her, the shadows lengthening and distorting familiar shapes. But the feeling persisted, a prickly unease crawling across her skin. The feeling of being watched. She pulled out her phone, the screen illuminating her face with a sterile glow. No signal. Of course. She’d expected as much. These pockets… they weren't known for their reliable connectivity. "Just a precaution," she muttered, shoving the phone back into her pocket. "Check everything’s okay. Standard procedure." Standard procedure she’d invented herself. Something to anchor her to reality when the world tilted on its axis. A twig snapped. Rory froze, her breath catching in her throat. It had come from the edge of the clearing, just beyond the circle of wildflowers. A deer, probably. Or a squirrel. There were animals in the park. She waited, listening intently. Nothing. She took a tentative step forward, then another. The wildflowers brushed against her ankles, their petals velvety and strangely cold. Another snap. Closer this time. She spun around, her gaze darting across the shadows. Empty. Utterly, unnervingly empty. “Hello?” Her voice sounded small, swallowed by the oppressive silence. No response. Rory’s hand instinctively went to her wrist, tracing the small crescent-shaped scar, a pale mark against her dark skin. A memento from a childhood tree climbing accident, a reminder of a time when the world had felt simpler, safer. Now, the scar felt like a brand, a badge of vulnerability. She told herself to breathe. In. Out. Rationalize. It was just nerves. It was just the darkness. It was just the… A sound. Not a snap this time, but a soft, rhythmic rustling. Like fabric dragging across the ground. It was coming from behind her. Rory didn’t turn. She could feel it, a presence lurking just beyond her awareness. It wasn't a threat, not yet. But it was something. Something… patient. She focused on the Heartstone Pendant, willing it to provide some clarity, some reassurance. The pulsing warmth intensified, spreading through her chest, a frantic flutter against her ribs. It wasn’t just reacting to the Grove; it was reacting to… something else. Something specific. The rustling stopped. Rory held her breath, her muscles coiled tight. She could hear her own heart hammering against her chest, a frantic drumbeat in the suffocating silence. Then, a voice. It wasn’t loud, but it resonated within her skull, a low murmur that seemed to bypass her ears entirely. It wasn't in any language she recognized, but somehow, she understood. *Lost.* The word echoed in her mind, a chilling whisper. Rory finally turned, her gaze sweeping across the clearing. She saw nothing. Only the strange, luminous wildflowers and the looming shadows of the oaks. But she felt it. A presence, close. Woven into the fabric of the Grove itself. Another whisper, closer this time. *You shouldn’t be here.* The scent of overripe fruit intensified, almost choking her. Rory took a step back, then another, her boots crunching on the gravel path that led back to the gate. She didn't run. Running would be pointless. She just walked, slowly, deliberately, her eyes fixed on the wrought iron gate, a distant beacon of normalcy in this unsettling place. As she reached the gate, she glanced back. For a fleeting moment, she saw something. A figure, indistinct and shadowy, standing amongst the wildflowers. It wasn't human. It was… elongated, distorted, its form shifting and blurring at the edges. Then, it was gone. Rory didn’t hesitate. She pushed open the gate, the scraping sound a jarring intrusion on the silence. She didn’t look back again. The moment she stepped back into Richmond Park, the weight lifted. The silence receded. The rustling of leaves returned. Her phone beeped. Signal restored. She checked the time. Only five minutes had passed. Five minutes in the Grove could be five hours, five days, or five lifetimes. Shaking, she dialed Eva’s number. It rang twice before going to voicemail. “Eva,” Rory said, her voice trembling slightly. “I… I was at the Grove. Something’s wrong. Really wrong. I need to talk to you.” She hung up, staring at the locked screen. The Heartstone Pendant pulsed insistently against her skin, a warning. Something had followed her out. She could feel it. And it was closer than she thought.