Run: 2026-05-27-01KSMETT5BXNT05Y618SY86VC3

The first drops of rain pattered against the hood of Rory's jacket as she hiked deeper into the Richmond Park forest. As a delivery person for the Golden Empress in London, she was used to braving all sorts of weather. But coming here, to this isolated grove, with her heartstone pendant clutched in her palm, made her shiver despite her practical coat. Ancient oak standing stones loomed ahead, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. Mist clung to the ground, swirling around her boots. She knew from her university studies in history that this copse of trees was thought to be the entrance to a fae realm. But until that morning, she had always assumed it was myth, despite her Sight. She let the heartstone pendant's chain slide into her palm and warmed it. The gemstone pulsed faintly with a crimson hue, the way Helena Windcutty's crazy fae stories had said it would when a Hellportal was near. Rory hugged her arms tightly, studying the fog. At first glance, the grove looked utterly deserted at this late hour, empty of any signs of life. The only sound was the pattering of raindrops on leaves and the low howl of wind through the treetops. And yet... she couldn't shake that prickle of wrongness. A deeper hush settled over the forest, the patter fading to lick her skin. Too quiet. An unnatural stillness. She pressed a hand to the nearby birch and squeezed her eyes shut, willing the wrongness to dissolve. Nothing but wetness on her fingertips. The temperature in the grove was constant, even with the rain. The skin of her neck buzzed, eyes bulging as she turned to look over her shoulder, squinting for shapes in the fog. And there, in the corner of her eye... A dark figure. It stood at the edge of the trees. She caught only a flash of movement, a glimpse of pale eyes that shone brightly. Then it was gone. Rory swiveled on her heels, heart pounding as she scanned the grove, but whatever she had seen was invisible now. There was only the rustling of wind and the whisper of leaves in the canopy above. Then another rustling from behind. And another. Closer now. "What is this?" Her voice emerged pathetic and thin in the humidity. Danger looming, Rory knew with numb certainty. But she was powerless to move from her spot, captivated by the eerie fog swirling at her feet. She blinked as a black patch of ink spread frolicked across her hand. The fog began to glow with an unearthly light, casting ghostly shadows. Between the trees, familiar shapes began to emerge from the shadows. Her parents, arms outstretched, desperate to reach her. But frozen, like a memory. "Rory, run! Run! It's not safe!" Her hands reached out, but they couldn't take her. Across the grove, her best friend from university curled in on herself, shivering. "I can't," she whispered. "It has me." And there in the clearing, tall as the trees, with eyes of silver and skin of pale grey, stood... "Lindon!" The unmistakable voice of her ex-boyfriend, still laced with a cruel smirk. "This is a place of power, of potential," he spoke from across. "It's where we can rebuild, together." He reached out to take her hand, and Rory, frozen with confusion, felt her heart nearly burst with joy - until a flash of pain ripped through her. Her arm splattered with blood as tendrils broke through, hitting her wrist. She screamed as her ex-boyfriend's wound opened up, the dark tendril latching onto him. He shook his bitten hand maniacally, and the wound disappeared, but the tendrils remained, wrapping around him and Rory, bindings dragging them close. Another lashed at Rory's leg, and then another at her throat, until she had long tentacles wrapped around her head, her feet, her wrists. Her vision clouded until she was looking at Lindon through the slits between fingers, seeing him rise up to kiss her. "Let it in," she heard his voice whisper, before the world went black. Gasping, she woke to Lindon standing over her as his tendrils submerged deep inside her body, tearing her apart from within. Rory's head swam in the sick silence of the ruined forest. She watched her best friend lie curled, motionless, amidst the broken bodies of a dozen fae. Helen lay dead, her neck bent at an unnatural angle. But Rory didn't think for a minute this was over. The portal had been opened, and the sleeping creatures of that realm were all awake.