AI Aurora ducked beneath a gnarled oak branch that snagged her jacket like insistent fingers. The Heartstone pendant throbbed against her chest, its crimson glow seeping through her shirt in rhythmic pulses. She had followed its warmth from the edge of Richmond Park, past the deer that scattered like guilty secrets, until the ancient standing stones loomed ahead, their bark-twisted surfaces etched with symbols that twisted her gut.
She straightened, breath steady despite the prickle along her spine. The delivery shift at Golden Empress had dragged that evening , bags of dim sum cooling in the chill autumn air, but this pull overrode fatigue. The pendant, slipped into her palm two nights ago by a hooded figure outside Silas' bar, promised answers. Or warnings. Either way, it burned now, insistent.
Wildflowers carpeted the clearing, petals unfurling in defiant pinks and violets under the faint moonlight filtering through the canopy. No frost touched them. No wilt edged their leaves. Rory knelt, fingers brushing a bloom. Velvet soft. Too vibrant. Her small crescent scar itched on her wrist, a phantom twinge from that childhood fall off her father's garden wall.
A rustle stirred the undergrowth to her left. She froze, ears straining. Squirrels? Foxes roamed Richmond, bold at night. But the sound repeated, deliberate, like footsteps padding on moss. Soft pads, retreating.
Rory rose, scanning the boundary stones. Eight of them ringed the grove, each taller than her 5'6" frame, their roots bulging like veins beneath the soil. The pendant's heat intensified, syncing with her heartbeat. She slipped it from beneath her collar, the silver chain cool against hot skin. The gemstone throbbed brighter, casting ruby flecks across the nearest stone's carvings , intricate whorls that resembled eyes half-shut in sleep.
"You're malfunctioning," she muttered to the air, voice low. Cardiff grit in her tone, barrister father's influence sharpening her words. No response. Good. She circled the stone, boots sinking into loamy earth that smelled of rain-soaked earth and something sweeter, like overripe fruit fermenting underground.
Halfway around, a whisper slithered past. Not wind. Words? Gaelic lilt , maybe Welsh from her mother's side, but mangled. "Lai... laila..." Her alias from the flat above Silas', the one Eva insisted on after Evan. Rory spun. Nothing. Just flowers nodding in a breeze that never reached her face.
She pressed on, weaving between stones. The grove shrank somehow, the far edge blurring into shadow. Time played tricks here, Eva had hinted once over cheap wine, eyes darting like she spilled forbidden lore. An hour inside equalled minutes out, or days. Rory checked her phone. No signal. Clock frozen at 11:47. She pocketed it, pulse quickening.
Another rustle, closer, from the right. Leaves parted with a wet snap. She whipped her torch from her jacket pocket, beam slicing the dark. Petals glowed under the light, but no shape resolved . The beam caught a flicker , though , a pale limb darting behind the next stone. Too long for a fox. Too thin.
"Show yourself." Her voice cut sharp, Pre-Law poise masking the coil in her stomach . Silence answered, thick as fog rolling off the Thames. She advanced, pendant scorching now, pain lancing her skin. The glow illuminated runes on the stone, pulsing in echo . One symbol dominated: a jagged heart, split by thorns.
Her scar burned in sympathy. Childhood accident, Mum called it. Fell chasing a butterfly into the brambles. But the scar's curve matched this rune too perfectly . Rory traced it with a fingertip. Warm. The stone hummed, vibration climbing her arm.
Footsteps circled behind her. Multiple sets now, padding in unison, then scattering like children at play. Giggle? No, a trill, high and avian, from the canopy. Branches creaked above, weight shifting. She tilted the torch upward. Leaves rustled, but eyes glinted there , dozens, amber flecks winking out as fast as they appeared.
Not alone. The certainty settled cold in her veins. Whatever stalked her mimicked life from the park's edges , deer eyes, fox cunning , but warped. Closer. The air thickened, carrying a scent of milk gone sour, mixed with her own sweat.
Rory backed toward the centre, boots crushing flowers that released pollen dust, sparkling briefly before dissolving. The pendant yanked at its chain, pointing north, toward a denser cluster of stones forming an arch. She gripped it tight, ignoring the blister forming on her palm. Answers lay there. Or the trap.
Whispers multiplied, layering over each other. "Malphora... heart's thief..." Her other alias, hissed by Evan in rages, convinced she stole his soul with every glance. How did they know? The grove knew. Fae-touched, Eva whispered. Pocket between worlds.
She reached the arch. Smaller stones flanked it, knee-high, topped with mossy caps like toadstools. The pendant's pulses accelerated, heat radiating outward, warming the air between the pillars. A faint shimmer coated the space, like heat haze over tarmac in Cardiff summers.
Rustles converged. Shapes flitted at vision's edge: elongated shadows stretching on all fours, heads too large, limbs folding wrong. One paused, half-glimpsed: skin like birch bark, eyes milky voids. It tilted, nostrils flaring. Scenting her fear? No. Her blood. The scar wept a bead, unbidden.
Rory lunged through the arch. The world tilted. Nausea gripped her gut as colours inverted , violets to sickly greens, pinks bleeding crimson. She stumbled, catching herself on grass that squelched under palm, viscous. The pendant dimmed, but its chain tugged onward, into deepening gloom .
Sounds warped. Whispers stretched into moans, footsteps to skitters across stone. The grove expanded, trees twisting into impossible spirals, bark peeling to reveal glistening membranes beneath. Flowers carpeted everything, but thorns laced their stems now, quivering as if alive.
She ran. Torch beam bounced wildly, carving tunnels in the murk. A shape lunged from the left , claw outstretched, nails black and curved. Rory dodged, shoulder slamming a tree. Bark gave like flesh, oozing sap that burned her cheek. Hiss of pain escaped her lips.
More shapes closed in. Circles tightened. Trills morphed to chitters, hungry. One vaulted a stone ahead, landing with a splat. Hound-like, but elongated muzzle split four ways, tongues lolling in unison. It scented the ground, then her trail.
Rory sprinted for a gap in the stones. Pendant flared anew, guiding her. Whispers coalesced: "Hel's gate... heart's key..." Hel portal. The codex of her mind clicked , lore Eva dropped in fragments. Norse underbelly bleeding into Fae seams.
She vaulted a fallen log, thorns snagging her jeans, drawing blood. Warm trickle down calf. The hound-thing pursued, splashes echoing . Torch caught its eyes: not amber, but voids rimmed red, weeping ichor .
The arch loomed again, larger, thorns framing it like teeth. Pendant screamed heat, chain searing neck. Rory hurled herself through.
Reality snapped. She sprawled on dew-kissed grass, torch rolling away. Stars wheeled overhead, familiar London sprawl. Richmond Park. Out.
But whispers lingered, faint. Footsteps padded beyond the stones. The pendant cooled, glow fading to ember. Rory scrambled up, heart hammering. Her phone buzzed in pocket. Signal back. Clock read 3:12 AM. Hours lost.
A shape crested the outermost stone. Not hound. Taller. Humanoid. Birch skin stretched taut over bones too sharp. Face split in a grin of needle teeth. It dropped into the grove, others flanking. Eyes fixed on her scar, on the pendant.
The stones hummed. Boundary thinned. They poured through.