Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYA318TXVS3SJXWQYNDT90S

The air smelled of damp earth and something older, something that clung to the back of her throat like rust. Aurora Carter stepped past the gnarled oak standing stones, her boots sinking slightly into the moss beneath. The pendant at her throat—given to her by a stranger in a back alley, its weight unfamiliar—pulsed faintly, warm against her skin. She ignored it. The grove swallowed her whole. Wildflowers, their petals too bright, too *wrong*, lined the path. They didn’t sway with the wind. They *twitched*, as if something beneath the soil had just shifted. Aurora’s fingers tightened around the delivery bag slung over her shoulder. She’d come here for the package. A job. Nothing more. But the way the shadows pooled at her feet, the way the trees seemed to lean in just a little too close—it made her pulse jump. She shouldn’t have come. The grove wasn’t supposed to be this way. A rustle. Not from the wind. From *something*. Aurora froze, her breath shallow. The bag dug into her ribs. She turned slowly, scanning the undergrowth. Nothing. Just the usual—feral cats, maybe. Or foxes. Or— A whisper. It slithered through the air, too low to be human. Too *wet*. Aurora’s stomach twisted. She took a step back, then another, her boots crunching over dead leaves that hadn’t fallen yet. The pendant burned against her collarbone. *Wrong.* The path forked ahead. Left or right. She chose left. The wrongness coiled tighter around her ribs. A sound like tearing fabric. Then silence. Aurora’s breath hitched. She pressed her back against the trunk of an oak, its bark smooth despite the centuries it must have seen. The pendant pulsed again, brighter this time. She didn’t dare look at it. Didn’t dare *think* about it. Something moved at the edge of her vision. A flicker of movement, too quick to be real. Aurora’s fingers curled into the bark. The air smelled like iron now, like old blood. *You shouldn’t be here.* The voice wasn’t in her head. It was *around* her, wrapping itself around her skull like a noose. Aurora’s skin prickled. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady. “Who’s there?” No answer. Just the grove, breathing. She took a step forward. Then another. The path narrowed. The trees pressed closer. The pendant burned hot against her skin. A shadow detached itself from the trunk of a tree. Too tall. Too *wrong*. Aurora’s breath came in ragged gasps. The shadow stretched, elongating, until it stood before her—a figure, but not quite. Its limbs were too long, its joints bending in ways that made her stomach clench. It tilted its head. Its face—if it had one—was smooth, featureless. Like polished stone. Aurora’s fingers trembled. She clutched the pendant, her knuckles white. The figure took a step forward. The air grew thick, suffocating. “You don’t belong here,” it said, its voice a chorus of whispers. Aurora’s pulse roared in her ears. She turned, running. Branches lashed at her arms, but she didn’t stop. The path twisted, the trees closing in. The pendant burned like fire. She couldn’t outrun this. A hand—cold, skeletal—closed around her ankle. Aurora screamed, twisting, but the grip didn’t loosen. The figure dragged her back, its breath a wet rasp against her ear. “You shouldn’t have come,” it hissed. Aurora’s vision blurred. The pendant pulsed, searing against her skin. She could feel it now, the pull of something *else*, something waiting just beyond the grove. And then— A sound. A *click*. The figure stilled. The grip on her ankle loosened. Aurora gasped, stumbling back, her breath ragged. The figure was gone. The grove was silent. But the pendant— It pulsed brighter than ever.