Run: 2026-03-03-01KJTXTGGZTXFVS7X9K69AVGP3

The ancient oak stones loomed against the black canvas of the Richmond sky, their gnarled surfaces twisted into shapes that defied natural growth. Rory stepped across the threshold, the dry grass crunching beneath her boots with a sound unnaturally loud in the oppressive silence. She clutched the silver chain at her throat, the deep crimson gemstone pressing cold against her collarbone before it began to thrum with a sluggish, rhythmic heat. It belongs here, doesn't it? Just show me where. Her voice died instantly, swallowed by the thick, stagnant air of the Grove. No birds sang. No wind stirred the heavy canopy of leaves above. The temperature plummeted, turning her breath into ragged plumes of white mist that hung suspended like ghosts. She traced the crescent scar on her left wrist, her fingers trembling as she scanned the periphery of the clearing. Something skittered behind the nearest oak monolith. A dry, scraping sound, like talons dragging over brittle stone. She whipped her head around, her blue eyes straining against the gloom. The foliage remained undisturbed, a wall of thorns and shadow, but the air now tasted metallic, stinging the back of her throat with the sharp tang of copper. Deep breaths, Rory. Just a delivery. Get the drop, find the pulse, leave. The pendant surged with warmth, a sudden flare of intensity that forced her to gasp. The gemstone pulsed in time with her own racing heart, acting as a beacon that pointed toward the center of the clearing. She took a step forward, then halted. Another sound drifted through the stagnant air—the faint, rhythmic clicking of teeth. It originated from everywhere and nowhere, a constant, shifting vibration that seemed to emanate from the very roots beneath her feet. She backed toward the standing stones, her soles finding the uneven, moss-covered ground, but the wall of oaks seemed further away than it had seconds ago. The grove stretched. She turned a slow, deliberate circle. The path she had taken inward had vanished. In its place stood a tall, slender obstruction, its bark pale and slick as stretched skin. She reached out, her fingers grazing the surface, only for the wood to recoil with a wet, sucking sound. Find the center before it finds you. She pivoted toward the heat radiating from her chest. The crimson glow of the Heartstone became a blinding point of light in the total darkness, illuminating the space ahead. The grass beneath her boots shifted, undulating in waves despite the absolute absence of wind. A dozen pale shapes detached themselves from the base of the standing stones, towering, spindly silhouettes that possessed no discernable faces. They stood perfectly still, their elongated limbs draped in layers of shredded leaves and velvet night. One of them tilted its head at a sharp, bone-cracking angle. A low whine vibrated in Rory’s ears, rising in frequency until her teeth ached. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to tear the necklace from her throat and fling it into the dark. Did you bring it for us, or are you just a stray that wandered into the trap? The voice didn't belong to a throat. It seeped into her mind, heavy with the texture of stagnant water and rotting soil. She opened her eyes, finding the distance between her and the nearest entity had closed by half. They moved only when she blinked, advancing in the gaps between her heartbeats. I’m looking for the portal, not the company. She spun on her heel, her breath hitching as the pendant flared again, burning hot enough to blister her skin. The red light washed over the ground, revealing not grass, but a dense, living carpet of intertwined root systems that pulsed in the same rhythm as the stone. Every time the pendant cast its crimson light, the beings froze, their faceless masks turning toward the source of the glow. She focused on the vibration in her palm, letting it drag her forward. Fear crawled up her spine, cold and oily, but she pushed it down, locking her gaze on the ground ahead. She did not look at the shadows. She focused on the heat. Stay in the light. Just move. She broke into a run, her boots slapping against the shifting roots. The clicking behind her accelerated, a frantic, rattling applause, and the temperature dropped so sharply that frost erupted across her jacket. The air grew dense, viscous, forcing her to slog through it as if submerged in deep water. She sensed the movement just behind her ear—a rush of displaced air, the smell of ozone and wet earth. She didn't turn back. She lunged forward, her hand hitting the side of an massive, pulsating column that felt disturbingly like a chest cavity. The pendant lashed out with a beam of crimson fire, tearing open the darkness in front of her. A ripple in the space—a tear in the reality of the Grove—widened as the artifact recognized the proximity to the Hel portal. It was an aperture of pure, swirling void, cold as deep space and infinitely hungry. She stood at the precipice, the vacuum threatening to pull her equilibrium into the maw. Is this the end of the line, or just a shortcut through the rot? She didn't wait for a response. The sounds behind her reached a fever pitch, a chorus of clicks and wet tearing noises as the entities surged forward, their spindly shadows stretching out to claim her. She saw the flick of a long, grey finger grazing the edge of her coat. With a final, desperate heave, she reached into the rift, feeling the shift of air and the sudden, violent transition of pressure. The ground fell away from her feet. The coldness of the grove clamped down like a vice before it vanished, leaving her tumbling into a space where gravity held no jurisdiction. There was no sound here. No clicks, no shifting roots, no whispers. Only the fading flicker of the crimson light and the terrifying, absolute silence of the in-between. She curled her knees to her chest, the pendant finally dimming to a soft, rhythmic hum. Not today. I’m not yours today. She drifted in the blackness, the pressure slowly normalizing against her skin while she watched her own breath vanish into the infinite void. The Grove was behind her, trapped in its pocket of distorted time, while she remained suspended, waiting for the rift to deposit her somewhere that stayed still. Her pulse slowed as the heat in her chest faded, leaving her trembling in the sudden aftermath of the hunt. She traced the scar on her wrist with her thumb, feeling the sharp, jagged imperfection of her own skin in the dark. Silence became her only companion, indifferent and vast. She stared into the nothingness, searching for a sign of anything that wasn't the reflection of her own terrified eyes. Where does it end? And who finds me if I stop here?