Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYA7Y5FVCS6KTW8PYT9GNRJ

The air in Richmond Park was thick with the scent of damp earth and something older, something like crushed petals and iron. Aurora Carter adjusted the strap of her backpack, her fingers brushing the cold metal of the Heartstone pendant around her neck. The pulse of warmth beneath her skin was faint, but steady—just as it had been since she’d slipped it on that morning, after leaving the flat above Silas’ bar behind. She’d come here for the grove. For the promise of answers, or at least, the chance to forget the weight of London for a few hours. The standing stones loomed ahead, their gnarled roots twisting into the soil like skeletal fingers. She exhaled, stepping over the last patch of grass, the pavement crunching beneath her boots. The moment she crossed the threshold, the world tilted. A sound. Not the rustle of leaves, not the distant cry of a nightingale. Something else. A whisper, just beyond hearing, as if the wind itself had taken on a voice. Aurora froze, her breath catching. The Heartstone pulsed again, its crimson glow dimming and brightening in time with the pulse of something unseen. She turned slowly, scanning the darkness. The trees loomed taller than she remembered, their branches weaving into a canopy that swallowed the stars. The air hummed, a low vibration that made her teeth ache. Then—movement. Not in the trees. *Under* them. Something slithered along the ground, just beyond her peripheral vision, too fast to track, too deliberate. Aurora’s pulse spiked. She’d heard stories about the Grove—Eva had warned her about the way time bent here, how the fae realm pressed close enough to feel like a breath against your skin. But she’d come alone. She’d come for the answers. For the way the stones hummed with something ancient, something waiting. A twig snapped. Aurora spun, her heart hammering. Nothing. Just the wind. But the whisper had been louder now, closer. She stepped forward, her boots sinking into the damp earth, the scent of the Grove thick in her lungs. The Heartstone burned brighter, its glow casting jagged shadows across the stones. Then she saw it. A figure. Not quite human. Too tall, too still, its form shifting just beyond the edge of her vision. It didn’t move toward her. It didn’t speak. It just *watched*, as if waiting for her to notice it first. Aurora’s breath hitched. The pendant pulsed again, its warmth spreading up her neck, her throat. She reached for it instinctively, her fingers brushing the silver chain. The glow intensified, and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw something—something like a reflection—staring back at her from the stone. The whisper came again, this time closer, closer to her ear. Not a sound. A *presence*. She turned, her pulse roaring in her ears, and there it was, just beyond the trees, too small to be human, too still. Aurora’s grip tightened on the pendant. The air around her grew heavier, the world pressing in. The standing stones pulsed, their ancient wood vibrating beneath her feet. She could feel it—the pull, the weight of something waiting. Then the whisper changed. It wasn’t a voice anymore. It was a *voice*, but not one she’d ever heard. It slithered into her mind, soft at first, then insistent, pressing against her thoughts like a hand on her skull. *You are not alone.* Aurora’s blood turned to ice. She stumbled back, her boots skidding on the damp earth. The Heartstone burned brighter still, its glow casting long, shifting shadows across the Grove. The figure in the trees didn’t move. It didn’t speak. It just *watched*, and the whisper coiled tighter around her mind. She had to leave. But the Grove wouldn’t let her go. The standing stones groaned, their roots twisting like serpents, and the trees around her seemed to lean in, their branches forming a cage. The air thickened, the world pressing in, the whispers growing louder, closer. Aurora’s hands shook as she reached for the pendant again, her fingers brushing the cold metal. The glow was brighter now, pulsing in time with the whispers, with the weight of something unseen pressing against her. She had to run. But the Grove wouldn’t let her run. The figure in the trees stepped forward, its form shifting, too fast, too strange. Aurora’s breath came in ragged gasps, her vision swimming. The Heartstone burned, its warmth spreading up her neck, her throat, and she knew—she knew what was coming. She had to make a choice. She could fight. She could run. Or she could listen. And the whispers were already pulling her toward the trees, toward the thing that waited in the dark. Aurora’s fingers tightened around the pendant, her vision blurring. The standing stones pulsed, their ancient wood vibrating beneath her feet, and the Grove seemed to breathe around her, its weight pressing in, its whispers growing louder, closer. She had to make a choice. But the Grove didn’t give her time. The figure in the trees moved again, its form shifting, too fast, too strange, and Aurora’s breath came in ragged gasps, her vision swimming. The Heartstone burned, its warmth spreading up her neck, her throat, and she knew—she knew what was coming. She reached for the pendant one last time, her fingers brushing the cold metal, and the whispers coiled tighter around her mind, pulling her toward the trees, toward the thing that waited in the dark. Aurora’s last thought was of the Heartstone, of the warmth it gave her, of the way it had saved her before. And then the Grove took her.