Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ9548ERVGRK8J2WGJBGESWZ

The ancient oak standing stones loomed, silhouetted against a bruised twilight sky. Aurora pushed through the last of the tangled undergrowth, twigs snagging at her dark jacket, and stepped onto the soft, yielding earth of the clearing. Richmond Park was a familiar expanse of green lung, but this place, the Fae Grove, was a secret whispered between trees, a pocket dimension tucked away from the city's ceaseless thrum. She'd only found it by following the increasingly insistent warmth radiating from the Heartstone Pendant nestled beneath her shirt. It pulsed against her skin, a small, insistent heartbeat of its own, growing stronger the deeper she ventured into the shadowed woods. She’d told Silas she was going for a walk, a vague excuse to escape the clatter of the Golden Empress’s delivery boxes and the stale air of her flat above his bar. He’d squinted at her, his usual good humor tinged with something closer to concern. “Night walks? In *that* part of the park? Be careful, Rory. Some places don’t like being disturbed.” Aurora stepped further in, the standing stones receding behind her, cloaked now by the oppressive darkness of the mature oaks and beeches. The air inside the Grove was different. Still. Heavy. It carried the ghost of damp earth and a cloying sweetness that seemed to emanate from the wildflowers blooming with impossible vibrancy under the sliver of moon visible through the canopy. They were an unnatural riot of color – deep indigo, startling viridian, fiery crimson – defying the season, defying the night itself. Winter-hardened botanists would weep. A faint breeze, no more than a sigh, stirred the leaves overhead. But it was a singular sound in the profound silence that followed. The usual night chorus of insects, the distant hoot of an owl, the city’s murmur – all were absent. It was as if the Grove had swallowed every discernible sound, leaving only the emptiness. Aurora paused, listening. Her own breath sounded too loud, a ragged intrusion. Her heart hammered a nervous rhythm against her ribs. She touched the pendant through her shirt. It was warm, a steady, comforting heat, but the faint inner glow seemed to pulse with a little more urgency now. Near a Hel portal, it had said. But this wasn't a portal. It was a place. A place that felt… wrong. She began to walk slowly, her boots sinking slightly into the leaf litter. The trees here were ancient, their bark gnarled like the skin of old men, their branches reaching like skeletal fingers. Shadows pooled thick and inky, obscuring the ground, playing tricks with her vision. She paused again, straining her eyes. Had something moved? A flicker, deep in the periphery, a deepening of the dark between two trees. She turned her head, focusing, but there was nothing. Only the dense, unyielding night. "Hello?" she called out, her voice swallowed by the stillness. No answer. Of course, no answer. Why would there be? She was alone. Utterly alone. But the prickling sensation on her skin, that undeniable feeling of being observed, refused to subside. It wasn't the passive appraisal of a cautious animal; it felt more deliberate, more intelligent. She pulled her jacket tighter, though the air wasn’t particularly cold, not a biting autumn chill. This was a different kind of cold, seeping from the ground, from the air, from the very stones of the ancient oaks. It settled into her bones, a prelude to a dread she couldn't name. The wildflowers, impossibly bright, seemed to watch her, their petals unfurling like silent mouths. Aurora reached the center of the clearing. A ring of stones, almost entirely consumed by moss and ivy, marked its heart. They weren't like the standing stones at the edge; these were rougher, tumbled, as if disturbed by some ancient, cataclysmic event. Standing among them, she felt a profound sense of displacement, like a single, misplaced note in a vast, silent symphony. The pendant pulsed again, a distinct tremor against her sternum. It was warmer now, almost hot. It definitely recognized something here. She walked a slow circle, her gaze sweeping the impenetrable wall of trees surrounding the clearing. The shadows were restless. They didn’t just lie still; they breathed. They stretched and contracted, elongating unnaturally, then snapping back. A trunk, impossibly dark, seemed to detach itself from the surrounding gloom for a fraction of a second, only to melt back into place. Aurora’s breath hitched. She told herself it was fatigue, the stress of work, the city air finally getting to her. But the rationalizations felt flimsy, like cobwebs against the sheer force of her unease. This place was sentient, and it knew she was here. A sound. So faint, she almost missed it. A delicate *snap*. Like a dry twig breaking underfoot. But there was no one there. She spun around, her eyes darting, sweeping the tree line. Nothing. The sound hadn't come from the edge of her vision; it felt closer. *Too* close. She looked down at her own feet, half-expecting to see a hidden root, a fallen branch, but the ground was clear, thick with undisturbed leaf litter. She clutched the pendant, its warmth a small anchor in the encroaching dread. Its glow, though faint, seemed to be intensifying, a tiny crimson ember against her skin. It was trying to tell her something, warning her, or perhaps guiding her further into whatever existed in this place. Another sound. This one was a rustle, a dry, papery scrape that moved with a fluid, unsettling grace. It didn't sound like leaves disturbed by wind. It sounded deliberate. Like something slithering, inching, over the forest floor. It moved with a speed that defied logic, seeming to be both everywhere and nowhere at once. Aurora held her breath, straining to pinpoint its source. It was just beyond the edge of the clearing, circling. A slow, patient circuit. She backed away from the center, her eyes fixed on the darkness, trying to pierce the veil of shadows. The feeling of being watched intensified, pressing in on her, heavy and suffocating. It was no longer a vague sensation; it was a palpable presence, a weight in the air. She could almost feel the heat radiating from unseen eyes, the silent anticipation. A whisper. It slithered directly into her ear, a sound like dry leaves skittering across cold stone. It wasn't distinct words, not a language she recognized, but the *intent* was clear. Hunger. Ancient, cold hunger. Aurora flinched violently, spinning around, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Nothing. Not a flicker, not a rustle, not a shadow out of place. But the whisper had been so intimate, so close. Her mind raced, grasping for reason. A trick of the wind? Her own imagination? But her body screamed danger. Her muscles tensed, coiled. Her senses were on high alert, every nerve screaming. The peripheral movements were no longer subtle hints; they were undeniable shifts in the darkness. Shapes coalesced and dissolved at the very edge of what she could see, fleeting impressions of impossible angles, of limbs that bent the wrong way, of things that were too tall, too thin, too *wrong*. She fumbled for her phone, its screen jumping to life, casting a harsh, sterile beam into the oppressive gloom. The light painted the ancient oaks in stark relief, illuminating their furrowed bark, the tangled roots, the clumps of unnaturally vibrant wildflowers. But the light seemed to shrink from the deeper shadows, unable to penetrate their absolute darkness. The mobile’s signal bars were a mocking, empty grey. Of course. Lost in the Fae Grove. A single, distinct *thump* echoed from the treeline. Not a twig snap this time. Heavier. Like something solid hitting the ground. And then, another. And another. Slow, deliberate, heavy thuds, as if something immense was patiently pacing just beyond the reach of her phone’s beam. The ground beneath her feet felt as if it thrummed in response, a low, resonant vibration that shook her to the core. Aurora swallowed, her throat dry. Her crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist, usually a faint white line, seemed to itch, to tingle with the heightened strangeness of it all. She lifted her hand, her fingers trembling, and touched the Heartstone Pendant. It burned against her skin, a fierce, steady heat, and for the first time, she saw it. Under the sharp beam of her phone, the crimson gem wasn't just glowing; it was throbbing, a pulse of deep, internal light that seemed to mirror the heavy thuds echoing through the woods. It pulsed with a frantic, terrified rhythm. The thudding stopped. The silence that fell was even more terrifying than the noise. A different kind of stillness, charged with imminent action. The air grew thick, heavy, pressing in on her, making it hard to breathe. The sweet perfume of the wildflowers turned sickly, almost toxic. Her phone light wavered, an unsteady beam in a world that had ceased to make sense. Then, from the deepest shadow directly opposite her, a patch of blackness seemed to detach itself. It didn’t move like a creature, or an animal. It flowed, unspooling from the tree line like viscous ink, solidifying not into form, but into an absence of light more profound than the surrounding night. It was tall, impossibly so, and it carried with it a silence that devoured all other sound. It did not have eyes, but Aurora felt its gaze, cold and ancient, pierce through her. She knew, with a chilling certainty that sank deeper than bone, that she was no longer alone. She had stepped into a place that remembered things best left forgotten, and it had finally noticed her. The pendant flared, a desperate, crimson warning against her skin.