Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9VZ0NXT351XT2A9HCP2T1

The air in the Grove was too thick, too sweet with the scent of damp earth and something older—something like rotting honey. Aurora Carter adjusted the strap of her backpack, her fingers brushing the cool metal of the Heartstone pendant beneath her shirt. The pendant pulsed faintly, a warmth she’d come to recognize like a second heartbeat. *This is where it should glow.* She’d followed the directions to the letter—Richmond Park at dusk, past the standing stones where the air hummed just a little differently. The path had been clear enough in daylight, but now, under the sickly yellow glow of the streetlamps filtering through the trees, the Grove felt like a wound in the world. The standing stones loomed ahead, their gnarled oaks twisting into shapes that made her skin prickle. She’d seen photos of the Grove before—wildflowers blooming in impossible patterns, the way the light seemed to bend at the edges—but none of them had prepared her for the way the place *breathed*. Aurora exhaled slowly, her breath fogging in the cold. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not really. But the note had been clear: *If you want to see him, come when the stones are quiet.* And the Heartstone had led her here, its warmth steady against her ribs. She stepped between the stones. The moment her foot crossed the threshold, the world *shifted*. The air turned heavier, pressing against her skin like a second layer of clothing. The streetlamps beyond the Grove flickered, then steadied, but the clearing itself was bathed in an eerie, silvered light—no stars, no moon, just a glow that seemed to come from nowhere. The wildflowers along the path pulsed faintly, their petals trembling as if caught in a breeze that didn’t exist. Aurora’s pulse jumped. She forced herself to move deeper into the clearing, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. The trees here were different—taller, their branches twisting into shapes that made her stomach clench. The Heartstone warmed against her skin, a slow, steady pulse that matched the rhythm of her own heartbeat. *It’s just the Grove,* she told herself. *It’s just—* A sound. Not a rustle of leaves. Not the wind. Something *else*. A wet, dragging noise, like fabric scraping against stone. Aurora froze, her breath catching. She turned slowly, scanning the darkness between the trees. Nothing. She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. *Paranoia. Exhaustion.* She’d been up all night, driving from London, her mind racing with questions she didn’t have answers for. But the Grove wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to *watch* her. A twig snapped. Not from the direction of the sound. From the *other* side of the clearing. Aurora’s fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack, her knuckles whitening. She took a step back, then another, her boots crunching on something brittle beneath her feet. Twigs. Leaves. *No. Not leaves.* Her breath hitched. The ground beneath her feet was *wrong*. The earth was too soft, too yielding, as if she were walking on something alive. She glanced down— —and saw the way the dirt *moved*. Not rippling. Not shifting. The soil itself seemed to *breathe*, rising and falling in slow, deliberate waves, like something beneath the surface was pushing against it. Aurora stumbled back, her heel catching on a root. She barely caught herself, her heart hammering against her ribs. The Heartstone burned against her skin now, a searing warmth that made her wince. She fumbled at her shirt, pulling it away from her chest to get a better look at the pendant. The crimson gemstone glowed faintly, its inner light pulsing in time with her panic. *It’s reacting.* She didn’t know what that meant. But it meant something. A whisper slithered through the trees. Not a word. Not a sound. Just the *impression* of a voice, like a breath against her ear. Aurora’s skin crawled. She spun around, her gaze darting between the shadows. *There.* A flicker of movement. Just for a second. A shape between the trees—tall, slender, *wrong*. It moved like a dancer, fluid and unnatural, its limbs bending at angles that made her stomach clench. Then it was gone, swallowed by the darkness. Aurora’s breath came in ragged gasps. She pressed a hand to her chest, her fingers trembling. *Hallucination. Stress. You’re losing it.* But the Grove wasn’t supposed to *react* to her. It wasn’t supposed to *watch*. Another sound. This one closer. A *click*. Aurora’s blood turned to ice. She turned slowly, her gaze sweeping the clearing. The standing stones. The ones she’d passed through. The ones that were supposed to mark the boundary. One of them was *open*. Not split. Not broken. *Open*, like a mouth. And from within it, something *moved*. Aurora didn’t wait to see what. She turned and ran. Her boots pounded against the earth, her breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts. The trees blurred past her, their branches twisting into grotesque shapes in the dim light. The Heartstone burned against her skin, its warmth now a brand, a warning. *Run.* She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t know if she could escape. But she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t *breathe* if she stopped. A hand clamped around her ankle. Aurora screamed, her body jerking forward before she could stop herself. She twisted, her fingers scrambling for purchase in the damp earth. The hand was cold. Too cold. Like something that had been dead for years. She kicked out, her heel connecting with something solid. A *thud*. A wet, squelching sound. The hand let go. Aurora didn’t dare look back. She ran. The trees blurred. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something *rotten*. The Heartstone burned against her skin, its glow casting long, shifting shadows that seemed to move on their own. She was almost to the standing stones. Almost to the *other* side. Almost— A voice, soft and smooth as honey, whispered in her ear. *"You shouldn’t have come."* Aurora froze. The voice wasn’t behind her. It wasn’t in front of her. It was *everywhere*. She turned slowly, her gaze sweeping the clearing. The trees were wrong. The flowers were wrong. The *air* was wrong. And then she saw it. A figure stood at the edge of the clearing, its form shifting between solid and smoke. Tall. Too tall. Its limbs were too long, its fingers too many. Its face— Aurora couldn’t look. Couldn’t *breathe*. The figure tilted its head, its voice a chorus of whispers. *"You were never supposed to see."* The Heartstone burned against her skin, its warmth now a searing pain. The pendant pulsed, its light flickering like a dying flame. Aurora stumbled back, her boots slipping on the damp earth. She reached for the pendant, her fingers closing around the silver chain. *"No,"* she whispered. *"No, no, no—"* The figure lunged. Aurora screamed. And then— She was running again. The standing stones loomed ahead, their gnarled forms twisting in the dim light. She didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. She didn’t know if she’d made it. But she didn’t care. She just kept running.