AI Rory ducked beneath the gnarled arm of an ancient oak, its bark rough against her palm as she steadied herself. The standing stone loomed inches from her face, etched with spirals that twisted under moonlight like living veins. She squeezed through the gap, thorns from wild roses snagging her jeans, and stumbled into the clearing.
The Heartstone pendant burned hot against her chest. She yanked it free from her collar, the silver chain whipping cool across her skin. Crimson gem throbbed, brighter than she'd ever seen, not the faint pulse from Hel-touched spots in London, but a steady thrum that matched her heartbeat. Eva's note had been cryptic: *Grove. Midnight. Come alone. Trust the stone.* Rory had biked from her flat above Silas's bar, dodging deer in Richmond Park until the oaks called her off the path. Now the pendant demanded she press on.
She scanned the clearing. Wildflowers carpeted the ground, petals unfurling in impossible pinks and violets despite the chill autumn bite. No frost touched them. No paths led out. The oaks ringed the space like sentinels , their branches interlocking overhead into a dome that smothered stars. She crouched, fingers sifting soil soft as velvet . Too rich. Too alive. It clung to her skin, wriggling faintly before she shook it off.
A twig snapped behind her.
Rory spun, boots sinking into the flowerbed. Nothing. Just shadows pooling between trunks. She rose slow, breath steady, bright blue eyes narrowing on the boundary stones. Wind rustled leaves elsewhere in the park, but here the air hung still, thick as honey. She touched the crescent scar on her wrist, a habit from tense deliveries in dodgy alleys. *Focus. Eva wouldn't lure you into a trap.*
The pendant warmed further, drawing her gaze downward. Its glow cast ruby flecks across nearby petals, which quivered . Not from breeze. She knelt again, closer this time. A flower stem bent sideways, then snapped upright. Another followed, petals peeling back like eyelids. Rory's pulse quickened . She pinched one between thumb and forefinger. Sticky sap oozed, smelling of crushed berries and something sharper, metallic.
Footsteps pattered from the oaks' far side. Light, skittering, like a child's bare feet on stone.
She froze, hand dropping to her pocket knife. The blade flicked open with a soft click, steel glinting . No one emerged. The patter circled left, fading into rustles that mimicked small animals burrowing. Rory edged sideways, knife low, eyes darting to peripheral trunks. A shape flickered there, low to the ground, elongated limbs folding unnaturally before vanishing. Peripheral vision played tricks, always had since that night with Evan, but this felt solid. Watching.
Her boot crunched a petal. The sound echoed wrong, amplified, bouncing off invisible walls. The clearing shrank in her mind, oaks inching inward. She backed toward the boundary, pendant scorching now, chain searing her collarbone. *Get out. Reassess.* But Eva's words anchored her: *The grove hides truths. Stone shows the way.*
A whisper slithered from the flowers at her feet. Not words. A hiss, sibilant, like breath through hollow reeds. Rory stamped down, crushing stems. They sprang back, unharmed, releasing pollen that dusted her jeans in glittering motes. She coughed, throat tightening. The motes swirled upward, forming vague outlines, child-sized, before dissolving.
The skitter returned, closer, from multiple directions. Left. Right. Behind. Rory pivoted, knife slashing empty air. Leaves shivered on branches above, shedding in a slow spiral that brushed her shoulders, feather-light. One stuck to her sleeve, pulsing like the pendant. She flicked it away. It landed on a flower, burrowed in, stem thickening instantly.
Sweat beaded her forehead despite the cold. She pressed the pendant to her lips; it tasted of iron and salt. The glow intensified, illuminating a depression in the clearing's centre, a low mound ringed by toadstools. Eva's note mentioned a heart-tree, source of Fae whispers plaguing London streets. Rory had dismissed it as junkie ramble until the pendant flared two nights ago, syncing with screams from Silas's alley.
She approached the mound, knife ready. Toadstools glowed faintly, caps veined blue, spores puffing with each step. The ground softened underfoot, sucking at her boots like mud. A root snaked across her path, thick as rope, coiling lazily before stilling. Rory stepped over, heart hammering. At the mound's peak, soil parted, revealing a hollow. Inside, a knot of roots cradled a thumbnail-sized crystal , twin to her pendant, pulsing crimson.
The whispers rose, overlapping now. *Stay. See. Join.* Not English. Shapes darted bolder at vision's edge: hunched forms with twig-fingered hands, eyes like wet berries. Rory lunged for the crystal . Roots whipped up, wrapping her ankle. She slashed down, blade biting wood. Sap sprayed, burning her knuckles. The root recoiled, but more surged, braiding around her calf.
She yanked free, tumbling backward. Flowers crushed beneath her, releasing a chorus of pops, like bones cracking. The skitterers closed in, giggles threading the air, high and jagged. Rory scrambled up, pendant clutched tight. Its heat spread through her chest, veins lighting under skin. The boundary oaks twisted, branches lowering like claws.
A figure materialised midway across the clearing. Small, no taller than her waist, skin bark-textured, eyes hollow pits leaking sap. It tilted its head, limbs unfolding into too many joints. More joined it, peeling from trunks, flowers birthing others from calyces. They didn't charge. They waited, fingers twitching in unison.
Rory bolted for the stones. Roots erupted, tripping her mid-stride. She rolled, knife carving air. The lead creature scuttled forward, mouth splitting into a maw of thorns. Its whisper hit her ears: *Mother calls.*
The pendant blazed, blinding. Rory thrust it forward. Light erupted, searing the nearest fae-things. They shrieked, melting into sludge that seeped into soil. But the circle tightened, dozens now, petals falling like confetti around their feet. One leaped, claws raking her arm. Pain flared, hot and deep.
She slashed wildly, gaining feet. The boundary stone rushed close. A final root snagged her wrist, yanking hard. The scar there split open, blood mixing with sap. Creatures swarmed, giggles swelling to a cacophony .
Then the oaks parted. Not by her hand. A shadow loomed beyond the boundary, tall and horned, eyes glowing amber. It stepped through, air warping. The fae-things froze, then scattered, burrowing frantic. The newcomer fixed on Rory, smile splitting a face of bone and moss.
Eva's voice, but twisted: *You came. Good girl.*