Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9MF1XQDJR1QRS9EAF423W

Aurora pushed through the dense underbrush of Richmond Park, the crunch of leaves under her boots the only sound breaking the night's heavy silence. She had come here chasing a whisper from the pendant around her neck—the Heartstone, that deep crimson gem that had warmed against her skin all evening, pulling her like a magnet toward this forgotten corner of the park. Eva had laughed off her stories about it, called it a cheap trinket from some market stall, but Aurora knew better. The pulse had grown insistent, a rhythmic throb that matched her heartbeat, urging her to the grove she'd only heard about in old Welsh tales her mother used to spin. Answers waited here, or so the warmth promised. She adjusted the strap of her backpack, flashlight beam slicing through the dark, and stepped past the ancient oak standing stones that loomed like silent guardians. The air shifted the moment she crossed the boundary. Cooler, thicker, carrying a scent of wildflowers that bloomed impossibly in the autumn chill. Petals brushed her ankles, vibrant even in the dim light, as if the grove scorned seasons. She paused, heart quickening. No wind stirred the leaves overhead, yet a faint rustle echoed from the shadows ahead. Probably just a rabbit, she thought, shaking off the unease. She flicked off the flashlight to save battery, letting her eyes adjust to the moonlight filtering through the canopy. The clearing stretched before her, a pocket of unnatural stillness, wildflowers carpeting the ground in bursts of color that glowed faintly under the stars. She moved deeper, boots sinking into soft earth. The pendant warmed again, a steady pulse against her collarbone. Good. That meant she headed in the right direction, toward whatever portal or secret the thing hinted at. Her scar on the left wrist itched, a phantom reminder of that childhood fall from the tree in Cardiff, but she ignored it, focusing on the path. The grove's reputation for twisting time nagged at her—stories of people vanishing for days, emerging thinking only minutes had passed. She checked her watch: 11:47 PM. Plenty of time before dawn chased her back to the flat above Silas' bar. A twig snapped somewhere to her left. She froze, ears straining. Silence swallowed the sound, but her pulse hammered in her throat. Animals roamed parks at night, sure, but that snap carried weight, deliberate, like a footfall testing the ground. She scanned the treeline, bright blue eyes narrowing. Nothing. Just shadows dancing where branches overlapped. She exhaled, forcing her feet forward. The wildflowers parted under her steps, releasing a sweet, cloying aroma that clung to her clothes. Her black hair swung as she turned her head, catching a flicker at the edge of her vision—a shape, low and fleeting, gone before she could focus. "Get a grip, Rory," she muttered, voice slicing through the quiet. The words hung, unanswered, but they steadied her. She unzipped her backpack, pulling out the crumpled map Eva had sketched from some online forum—Richmond Park's hidden spots, marked with an X for the grove. The pendant's glow intensified, casting a faint crimson hue on the paper. She traced the lines with her finger, orienting herself toward the center, where the stories claimed the veil between worlds thinned. Isolation pressed in, the park's distant traffic hum faded to nothing, as if the grove sealed itself off from London entirely. Leaves whispered overhead, though no breeze touched her skin. She stopped again, tilting her head. The sound came rhythmic, like breath drawn through foliage, in and out, slow and measured. Wind, she told herself, but doubt crept in. Winds didn't breathe. She pushed on, shorter steps now, the clearing's heart drawing nearer. Moonlight painted the standing stones in silver, their bark etched with patterns that twisted like veins. One stone leaned slightly, as if listening. Something brushed her calf. She whipped around, heart lurching. Wildflowers swayed gently, but nothing else moved. A trick of the undergrowth, maybe, vines tangling her laces. She knelt, fingers probing the stems—cool, unyielding, no sign of disturbance. The pendant throbbed hotter, urgent now. Rising, she caught another flicker, this time to her right, a silhouette slinking between two oaks, too tall for a fox, too fluid for a deer. "Who's there?" Her voice cut sharp, echoing back distorted, like it passed through water. No response. The breathing sound returned, closer, mingling with a low hum that vibrated through the ground. She backed up a step, flashlight clicking on again, beam sweeping the perimeter. Empty. Just flowers and stones and endless shadow. But the certainty bloomed in her gut—she was not alone. Eyes watched her, unseen, patient. She swallowed, throat dry, and forced herself to move, backpack slung tighter over her shoulder. The center of the grove revealed itself as a shallow dip in the earth, ringed by smaller stones half-buried in moss. Wildflowers clustered thicker here, petals unfurling in the night air as if blooming just for her arrival. She circled the dip, pendant now a burning coal against her skin, its inner glow piercing the fabric of her jacket. This had to be it—the spot where time bent, where fae whispers slipped through. She knelt again, hands pressing into the soil, cool and damp, searching for any sign, any portal. A soft scrape echoed from behind a stone. Like nails on bark, deliberate, testing. She rose fast, spinning. Nothing. But the shadows deepened there, pooling unnaturally, defying the moonlight. Her breath came quicker, chest tight. The rustling returned, circling now, faint footsteps padding through the flowers, crushing petals with wet squelches. She tracked the sound, flashlight beam jerking left, then right, catching only glimpses— a branch bending, a leaf trembling out of sync. "Show yourself!" she shouted, voice cracking the stillness. The echo returned mockingly, stretched thin. Her scar burned, a sharp twinge that made her wince. The pendant pulsed in rhythm with it, as if connected. She clutched the gem through her shirt, warmth spreading up her arm, but it offered no comfort now, only insistence. The breathing grew louder, multiple sources now, inhalations overlapping like a chorus hidden in the trees. One drew near, hot and moist against the back of her neck. She whirled, beam flashing—empty air. Panic edged in, but she shoved it down, cool head prevailing. Think, Rory. Out-of-the-box. She backed toward the dip, eyes darting. A shape detached from a shadow, low and hunched, vanishing as her light hit it. Another followed, darting across her peripheral vision, pale and elongated. Not human. Not animal. The footsteps multiplied, a patter encircling her, closing in slow, inevitable. She dropped to one knee, rummaging in her backpack for the salt Eva had joked about packing—old folklore trick against fae. Her fingers closed on the shaker, spilling grains in a hasty circle around her. The sounds paused, as if assessing. Silence gripped the grove, thick and oppressive. Then a chuckle rippled through, low and guttural, not quite laughter, more like stones grinding together. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The pendant flared, crimson light spilling out, illuminating the flowers in bloody hues. Shapes resolved at the edges—limbs twisting unnaturally, eyes glinting like embers in the dark. They inched closer, testing the salt line, recoiling with hisses that mimicked wind through leaves. "Back off," she growled, voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. The chorus of breaths answered, swelling, pressing against her makeshift barrier. One shape lunged, a blur of motion, claws raking the air inches from her face. She staggered back, salt scattering underfoot. The pendant burned fiercer, a beacon in the night, drawing them like moths to flame. More emerged, slinking from behind stones, their forms shifting, elusive. The grove's time twisted around her—her watch ticked erratically, minutes stretching into what felt like hours. A whisper slithered into her ear, close enough to feel lips brush her hair. "Stay... play..." She spun, flashlight arcing. Empty. But the voice lingered, joined by others, murmurs overlapping in languages she half-recognized from her mother's tales—Welsh laced with something ancient, feral. They circled tighter, shadows weaving through the wildflowers, petals wilting where they touched. The ground hummed beneath her, vibrating up her legs, as if the earth itself awakened. Aurora gripped the pendant, yanking it free from the chain. Its glow intensified, pulsing in her palm, warmth surging like a heartbeat not her own. The shapes recoiled slightly, but pressed on, testing, always testing. A claw grazed her boot, cold and sharp, withdrawing with a snarl. She hurled salt at it, grains sparkling in the crimson light, and the thing shrieked, a sound like tearing metal. More voices rose, a cacophony now, words tumbling over each other. "Mine... ours... stay..." She backed into the dip's center, pendant raised like a talisman. The air thickened, wildflowers curling inward, vines snaking toward her ankles. Footsteps thundered closer, no longer subtle—crashing through underbrush, shapes materializing fully at last, twisted limbs and glowing eyes fixed on her. They ringed the dip, a wall of shadow and malice, breaths hot and ragged. One stepped forward, form coalescing into something almost human, features smeared like wet clay. It reached out, fingers elongating, voice a rasp. "Give it... give us..." Aurora's mind raced, piecing together fragments— the pendant's origin from Dymas, its pull to portals. This grove wasn't just fae-touched; it hungered. She clutched the gem tighter, its heat scorching her skin, and thrust it skyward. Light exploded outward, crimson waves rippling through the grove, illuminating horrors in stark relief—faces contorted in agony, bodies warped and fluid. The creatures howled, recoiling as one, shadows fracturing under the glow. But they regrouped, pressing in, whispers turning to roars. "Ours... forever..." She scanned for escape, the standing stones mocking her from afar. Time warped further—her watch spun backward, the moon dipping lower in an instant. Vines wrapped her calf, tugging her down. She kicked free, salt shaker emptying in a desperate arc. The lead creature lunged again, claws slicing air, breath foul and ancient on her face. "Get away!" she bellowed, voice raw. The pendant answered, a final surge of warmth flooding her veins. Light blinded her momentarily, and when vision cleared, the shapes hovered inches away, frozen in mid-attack, eyes burning with hunger. The grove trembled, ground splitting with faint cracks, wildflowers bursting into unnatural bloom around her feet. Whispers intensified, a torrent now, pulling at her mind. "Join us... stay..." Aurora staggered, pendant slipping from slick fingers, clattering into the dip. The creatures surged, a wave of darkness crashing toward her.