AI The headlights of Aurora’s beat-up beat-up Ford Fiesta cut through the dark, the engine sputtering like a sick animal. She’d turned off the main road an hour ago, following a crumpled map—*Eva’s * map, scrawled in her messy handwriting, tucked in Aurora’s jacket pocket since dawn. “It’s the only way,” she’d said, before the call had cut out, static hissing like a serpent. “He knows. They all know. But you—you can help. The pendant… it led you. To me.”
Eva had been her anchor, once. The only one who’d seen Evan’s jaw clench when Aurora forgot to answer his texts, the way his hand lingered too long on her waist in public. When he’d thrown her phone into the Thames, laughing, Aurora had run to Eva’s flat, packed a suitcase, and taken the 6:17 to London. Now, four years later, Aurora pulled into a dirt turnout at the edge of Richmond Park, the engine dying with a final wheeze. The air smelled of damp earth and something sharper—pine? Or rot? She couldn’t be sure.
She unbuckled her seatbelt, her left wrist brushing the Heartstone Pendant through her thick winter coat. It pulsed faintly, a warmth like a hand pressed to her skin. Not cold, not hot—*alive *. The codex said it glowed near Hel portals, but she’d worn it for months without incident. Maybe it was just a faulty gemstone. Maybe Eva was delirious. Either way, she’d come.
She grabbed her duffel—snACKs, a flashlight, a utility knife—and stepped out into the dark. The park was silent, too silent. No wind, no birds, not even the distant hoot of an owl. Her breath fogged in front of her, visible as a gray ghost. She checked her phone—no service, as expected—but the screen flickered when she pressed the power button, a faint red glow bleeding from the edge of the display. *Interesting *.
The map said to follow the oak trees. She started walking, her boots crunching on frost. The trees loomed, their branches twisted like gnarled fingers. The path was narrow, overgrown with brambles that snagged her coat. After twenty minutes, she stopped. The trees had thinned, and up ahead, a circle of stones jutted from the ground. Ancient oaks, their trunks scarred with carvings—she squinted, saw what looked like runes, not the usual bark patterns. The map had called them standing stones. *Boundary *, it said. *No turning back.*
Aurora took a step forward. The pendant flared, a sharp throb that made her gasp. She pressed a hand over it, feeling the gemstone warm through her glove. *Just a portal *, she told herself. *Eva’s talking about a portal.* But why would she be near a Hel portal ? Hel was their term for the Fae realm, the one that didn’t play by human rules. Evan’s family had been into that kind of thing —he’d once dragged her to a seance, laughing when she’d left after an hour,心悸得厉害. *Don’t think about him *, she told herself, but the memory seeped in, cold and sharp.
She entered the circle. The stones were rough, their surfaces slick with dew. As she stepped between two of them, the world *hummed *. A low, vibrational hum that made her teeth ache. The air shifted—thinner, like someone had taken a layer off the atmosphere. She looked down. The wildflowers, usually dormant this time of year, bloomed around her: daisies, poppies, lavender, all in full, vibrant bloom. *They shouldn’t be here *, she thought. *Not now.*
The map said the clearing was beyond the stones. She pushed through the underbrush, her boots sinking into soft, mossy ground. The hum grew louder, until it filled her ears, a white noise that drowned out her own heartbeat. Then—*silence *.
The clearing was circular, ringed by trees that seemed to lean in, their leaves rustling . At its center, a depression in the earth, about the size of a table. And over that depression, a mist—pale, shifting, not the kind that rose from the ground. It rolled outward, as if alive , and Aurora saw something in it: a flicker of movement, a shape that wasn’t a tree, wasn’t a rock. She froze. The mist parted, and a door appeared.
It was made of wood, carved with the same runes as the stones. It stood ten feet tall, its planks warped, as if by time or magic. *Hel portal *, she thought. *Eva is here.*
She took a step forward, then another. The pendant burned now, a hot weight against her chest. She unzipped her coat, pulled it out—crimson stone, silver chain, pulsing fiercely. The gemstone glowed, a deep, almost angry red, casting an odd light over the clearing. The mist around the door thickened, and the runes blazed, a bright blue fire that seared her retinas.
A sound made her jump. A *sigh *. Not the wind through leaves, not the creak of wood. A human sigh , warm and wet, like breath exhaled through lips pressed together.
Aurora spun. The trees were closer, their branches stretching toward her. The wildflowers had stopped blooming, their petals wilting, black veins snaking across them. The mist from the door had spread, covering the ground now, a gray blanket that oozed upward, like molasses.
“Eva?” she called. Her voice shook. *Stupid *, she thought. *Stupid to come here alone.*
No answer. But the sigh came again, and this time, she heard it more clearly: it was *behind * her.
She turned. Nothing. Just the trees, their trunks blackening at the base, bark peeling away to reveal something else—something white, like bone, but smooth, unbreakable. The gemstone burned hotter. She fumbled with the chain, unclasping it, holding the pendant out in front of her. The runes on the door blazed brighter, and the mist rushed toward her, a cold wave that made her skin prickle.
A hand appeared. Not a human hand—too long, fingers too many , nails black and curved. It emerged from the mist, palm up, as if offering something . Aurora stepped back, tripping over a root. The hand reached for her, and suddenly , she was aware of the weight in her pocket: the utility knife. She fumbled it out, her fingers slipping on the handle.
“Stay back,” she said, her voice higher than she intended . The hand closed around nothing —*nothing *—as if the air was solid. The sigh came again, closer now, and she smelled it: rot, sweet and cloying, like overripe fruit left in the sun.
The pendant exploded in light. Red, then white, then red again, a flash that blindsided her. When she blinked, the mist was gone . The runes on the door flickered , then went dark. The flowers had collapsed, their stems black . And in the center of the clearing, where there had been a depression, there was now a body.
A woman. Late teens, early twenties. Black hair, straight and shoulder-length, just like Aurora’s. Bright blue eyes, wide and unseeing. A small crescent scar on her left wrist.
Aurora froze. The girl’s dress—torn, stained with dirt and blood—was familiar . *Eva’s * dress. The one she’d worn to their high school graduation, the one she’d said she’d never throw away.
“Eva?” Aurora whispered. She stood, the knife shaking in her hand, and took a step toward the girl.
The girl’s eyes fluttered open.
They were *black *. No white, no iris—just empty, bottomless pits. Aurora stopped. The girl smiled, a slow, wide smile that split her face, revealing teeth that were too many , too sharp.
The pendant burned through her palm. She dropped it, watching as it rolled across the ground, its glow dimming. The girl stood, slow, her joints creaking like rusted hinges. Her dress unraveled, the fabric turning to ash, revealing skin that was gray, veined with black .
“*Laila *,” the girl said. The voice wasn’t hers. It was low, guttural, but it carried Aurora’s name—*Laila *—with a familiarity that made her blood run cold. “*Carter *.”
Aurora backed away. The trees creaked, their branches twisting into arms, fingers reaching. The gemstone at her wrist pulsed , a memory flooding her: a voice, soft and urgent, saying *Don’t let them take you. Use the stone. Find the Grove.*
She’d thought it was a nightmare, at first. The man in the black coat, the one with no face, who’d stood outside her flat door that night, three months ago, just after she’d closed the Golden Empress. *“You carry a piece of us,”* he’d said. *“Your blood, it binds you. Find the Grove, or they will take you.”*
She’d forgotten about it. Until Eva’s call. Until the pendant started glowing.
“Who are you?” Aurora asked, her voice steady now, the fear giving way to anger, to *focus *. She was a delivery person—she could think on her feet. She could *run *.
The girl—*thing *—stepped closer. The trees surrounded them, their branches closing in, blocking her escape. The air thickened, heavy, making it hard to breathe. “We are *many *,” the thing said, its voice splitting into a chorus of voices, all overlapping, all whispering *Laila , Laila , Laila *. “We are the ones you left behind . The ones Evan tried to bury.”
Evan. Her ex. The man who’d hurt her. The man she’d fled from.
Aurora’s chest tightened. *He’s here *, she realized. Not Evan, exactly, but Evan’s *something *. *Evan’s family *. The Fae, maybe. The ones who’d marked her, back when she’d been naive enough to trust him.
The thing raised a hand. Its fingers elongated, nails slashing the air. Aurora turned, running, her boots slipping on the moss. The pendant glowed at her wrist, a beacon , and she saw it—the door, its runes flickering back to life. She dove through it, scrambling onto the other side, the mist slamming into her back.
The Grove vanished.
She was back in the park, the standing stones behind her, the trees now just trees, their branches silent. The pendant burned, a bright red light that radiated from her wrist. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fumbled it out, the screen showing a single text: *They knew you’d run . They’re coming.*
Aurora looked up. The sky was lighter now, the first hints of dawn peeking over the horizon. But somewhere, deep in the park, she heard a laugh. A man’s laugh, low and cruel, and it made her skin crawl.
She stood, her hand on her wrist, the pendant pulsing, and started walking. The trees lined the path, their leaves rustling, and she was sure she saw faces in them—Evan’s, his mother’s, his sister’s—all watching, all waiting.
They were coming for her. And she was ready.
Her boots crunched on the frost, and the heartstone glowed brighter, a promise, a warning. *Run *, it seemed to say. *Fight *.
Aurora kept walking.