Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ082NK58GBWW73622DKMXGZ

The standing stones rose from the earth like broken teeth, ancient oak transformed into something that belonged to another age. Aurora traced the carvings along the nearest monolith—spirals and symbols that seemed to shift beneath her fingertips when she wasn't looking directly at them. "Creepy, aren't they?" Nyx's whisper came from everywhere and nowhere, their shadowy form coalescing beside her. In the pre-dawn gloom of Richmond Park, they appeared more solid than usual, the faint violet glow of their eyes casting strange reflections on the stone. "Creepy isn't the word I'd use." Aurora stepped back, her breath misting in the cold air. The Heartstone pendant hung heavy against her chest, its warmth pulsing against her skin like a second heartbeat. "Old. Wrong. Like they're waiting for something." The Fae blade at her hip radiated cold through its sheath, a counterpoint to the pendant's heat. She'd strapped it on without thinking this morning, some instinct driving her actions before Eva's cryptic text had arrived: *Richmond Park. The stones. Sunrise.* Eva should have been here by now. "We should not linger at the threshold." Nyx drifted toward the gap between two stones, their form flickering as they passed through a patch of darkness. "The boundary thins at dawn. If we are to enter—" "Enter where, exactly?" Nyx turned, and despite their featureless face, Aurora caught something like surprise in the angle of their shadow. "You did not know?" "Know what?" "The grove. Isolde's domain." Nyx moved closer, their voice dropping to something almost reverent. "The Seer who walks without footprints. She dwells between the stones, in a place that is not quite here and not quite elsewhere." Aurora's hand moved to the pendant. The warmth had intensified, its pulse quickening. Through the crimson gem, she felt something—a pull, like a current tugging at her from beyond the stones. "I was told to come here. That's all." "Then come." Nyx passed between the monoliths and vanished. Aurora stood alone in the grey morning, her breath clouding around her face. The park stretched empty in every direction—not even early joggers braving the winter chill. Just her and the stones and the growing warmth against her chest. She stepped forward. The world folded. Not painfully, not dramatically—more like turning a corner and finding the architecture had rearranged itself while you weren't looking. The grey London dawn gave way to something else entirely. Warm light, the colour of honey, spilled across a landscape that belonged in a storybook. Wildflowers carpeted the ground in impossible abundance—bluebells and primroses and varieties Aurora had never seen, blooming in defiance of the December cold she'd left behind. The air tasted of summer, of green growing things and something sweeter beneath. Ancient oaks ringed the clearing, their branches intertwined overhead to form a cathedral canopy, and between their trunks, shadows moved with purpose. "The time differential hits everyone differently." Aurora spun. A woman stood where no one had been a moment before, silver hair cascading to her waist, pale lavender eyes watching with an agelessness that made Aurora's skin prickle. She wore simple clothing—earthy tones that shifted colour as the light caught them—but carried herself like royalty. When she moved closer, the wildflowers bent toward her, reaching. "You're Isolde." "I am known by that name, yes." The Seer circled Aurora with unhurried grace. Her feet made no sound against the earth, left no impression in the soft soil. "The Shadow told me you would come. They did not mention you would bring questions in your eyes." "Where is Nyx?" "Exploring." Isolde gestured toward the trees, and Aurora glimpsed a flicker of violet between the trunks—Nyx's form blending with shadows that moved independently of any light source. "This place agrees with them. It exists between, as they do." Aurora looked up. The sky above wasn't sky at all—it shimmered like the surface of a soap bubble, colours bleeding into each other in patterns that hurt to follow. And beyond that shimmer, she caught glimpses of something else. Towers, maybe. Spires reaching toward stars that shouldn't exist in daylight. "What is this place?" "A pocket." Isolde bent to touch a flower, and it bloomed brighter under her fingers. "A fold in the world where the Fae realm brushes against yours. Time moves differently here—an hour might be minutes beyond those stones, or it might be days. The grove decides." "That's not comforting." "Comfort was not the purpose of your summons." Aurora's hand found the pendant again. The Seer's eyes tracked the movement. "You feel it calling. The Heartstone knows its origin." "Its origin?" Aurora frowned. "Someone left it for me. No note, no explanation—just this pendant in a box on my doorstep." "Anonymous gifts carry the heaviest prices." Isolde straightened, and for a moment, her lavender gaze seemed to look through Aurora entirely. "That stone comes from Dymas. The realm they call Gluttony. It is bound to the Hel domains, and it pulses warm when gates draw near." Dymas. The word snagged in Aurora's mind like a fishhook. She'd heard it before—in whispers from customers at the Golden Empress, in half-remembered dreams that left her gasping in the dark. "The pendant—it's from Hel?" "The craftsmanship, yes. The intent behind its giving?" Isolde spread her hands. "That thread leads elsewhere. I see fragments. A feast. A contract signed in hunger. A prince who collects chefs like others collect art." "Belphegor." The name left Aurora's mouth before she could stop it, and Isolde's expression sharpened. "You know of the Princes?" "I know enough to be afraid." Aurora's fingers brushed the Fae blade's hilt, its cold searing against her palm. "Enough to know I shouldn't be standing in a Fae grove discussing demons while my pendant hums like a compass." "Then you know more than most who stumble between the stones." Isolde moved away, her silver hair catching light that had no source. "Walk with me. There are things you should see." The grove deepened as they walked—or perhaps it simply revealed more of itself. The oaks grew larger, their bark etched with symbols that glowed faintly when Aurora passed. Streams crossed their path, the water running uphill as often as down, and each crossing made the world tilt slightly before resettling. She heard music. Faint, distant—strings and voices woven into something that made her want to walk toward the trees and never stop. "The Fae Court calls to you." Isolde's voice cut through the melody. "Resist. Those who follow the music do not return." "What if I can't?" "You carry a Fae blade. It will anchor you." The Seer paused beside a pool that reflected a sky Aurora couldn't see above her—stars wheeling in patterns that spelled out something in a language she almost understood. "Moonsilver cuts through enchantment as easily as flesh. You need only draw it." Aurora swallowed. The music pulled at her, notes wrapping around her thoughts like silk. "Where did you get this blade?" "I forged it." Isolde crouched by the pool, trailing fingers through water that didn't ripple. "Three hundred years ago, before my exile. The Courts do not share their weapons willingly, and I paid dearly for the knowledge of its making." "Why give it to me?" "Because you will need it." The Seer looked up, and her lavender eyes held something like compassion—something like grief. "The Veil weakens, Aurora Carter. The solstice approaches, and with it, tears that the Wardens cannot mend alone. A time comes when blades must be drawn and choices must be made." "You speak in riddles." "I speak truth. The difference is merely perspective." From somewhere deeper in the grove, a sound like laughter echoed—bright and cruel and utterly inhuman. The wildflowers trembled. Aurora's pendant flared hot against her skin, and she felt the Fae blade shiver in its sheath. Nyx materialized at her shoulder, their form more solid than she'd ever seen it. The violet glow of their eyes had intensified, and their whisper carried an edge. "Something comes through the boundary. Not Fae." Isolde rose with fluid grace, her face betraying nothing. "Then it seems your education begins sooner than anticipated."