Run: 2026-05-27-01KSMF7JZ49E0PRP63XNE1Q3N9

The cold night wind made Rory Carter shiver as she hurried through the nearly deserted streets, pulling her black coat tighter around her slender frame. It was a fool's errand, coming out here at this hour. But Ursula had called, begging Rory to meet her in the Grove. The usually bubbly blonde had sounded terrified, gasping out that it was an urgent emergency when Rory insisted it could wait until morning. Rory's jaw tighted as she picked up the pace, hands stuffed into her pockets. The silvery moonlight through the clouds was the only illumination, casting the ornate iron fences in an eerie glow as they loomed alongside the narrow, empty street. Something in Ursula's panic made Rory's breath catch - etched fear. The blonde avoided conflict and people. Usually, the most exciting thing that happened in Ursula's life was a sale at Topshop. Richmond Park stretched out before Rory as she turned a corner, the expanse of green and trees appearing more ominous in the night. The October air hung heavy with the promise of frost, the grass crisp and crunching under her boots as she followed the gravel pathway. Normally, Rory loved the park, the peace, the green. Now her scalp prickled, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Rory squinted into the darkness, nearly tripping as enigmatic shapes littered the terrain. Figures that seemed to be pointing towards something. The standing oaks were familiar, but they appeared bigger, the shadows they cast sharper. Leaves crackled under Rory's shoes, a strange breeze ruffling her straight, pitch dark hair. The stillness hung heavy, a pronounced void of more than the usual hush of urban noise. Time felt off, as if reality was shifting. Selkie Wave, Rory Coach Potter. Pause. Coach Tuesdays. Put the set in the lounge. Maybe their crew wasn't the same this year, but Rory tried to smile out of habit. Redefining terms. _But he didn't smile back. He loomed over her, an angry storm in his eyes. So many people coming, going, twirling around her. Rory rounded the corner andureau. No point in lying to herself as she took out the Heartstone to double check._ Again, the heartbeat was steady, a subtle crimson glow pulsing rhythmically inside the gemstone, but there was no trace of a lifeline. Ursula's line was missing, cut off as clearly as if it had been severed. A prickling cold raced down Rory's back and the color drained from her face. She knew. She knew the rules, was always the good Scryer, dutifully reading. Efficient, organized. Fun. Someone you'd keep as a friend if you were in good standing with your peers. Nothing good ever happened in the Grove. It was more than torches and wood wind and Sanitorium Bukowski, more than a barrier. Dying light. "Coming or going," Rory heard the familiar tune echo in her mind. 3157, but it was so hard to listen to. Rory would die. Rot pounded into the hollow leaves. The atmosphere in the clearing shifted, unsparing and cutting. For the first time in a long time, Rory felt like crying, but she didn't. She balled up her hands, feeling minute. "I'm here," she called out, hoping Ursula could hear. A dark voice whispered in her head. "She's not here. Come find me." The voice echoed, as if from a great distance. In the darkness. Rory didn't know why, and she'd always known why. "She's waiting. Find. You'll die too." Rory's heart began pounding, her palms sweating. What was happening? She backed away, slipping slightly, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Her breath was ragged, her eyes darting around in the darkness. What was the last thing Jack said to her? You're a bit of troubling. Rory shook her head. "Me poverty have trouble," she said. Find them. Find her. Impromptulatory! You could see auras! You could hear whispers - hear every sound. And die. Rory knew finding Ursula would cause death. The notion approaching the edge of unstitched reality. "I'm coming..." Rory whispered to herself, realizing too late that she had spoken aloud. No one answered, the silence of the Grove even more profound in the wake of her words. Rory blinked a few times, the craggy figures having melted again, if they had ever been there. Breathe. Be ! The collisions were coming. Maybe she was simply too tired, hallucinating. The pendant wasn't lying. Ursula's lifeline really was a blur, trailing off and then winding in circles. Rory swallowed hard, a wave a bit of Trevor's house living through her. She had to keep moving. I didn't ask for this, Jas road then. Along the unkempt path, stepping over strangely angular branches, Rory could feel her heart rate slowly returning to normal. Breathe. But the feeling wouldn't go away, it was tangible, even if she couldn't see it. Rory knew she wasn't alone. Especially after someone stepped into her path, standing just at the edge of the Moonlight. Teeth flashed, a dark shape solidified into a man. "I've been waiting for you," he said, his voice a rasp. A shiver of terror ran up Rory's spine. Even in the deep shadow, she could see bristling hair, bandages enveloping his head, his jacket hanging open. "Stay away from me," she rasped, backing up, her steps were unsteady. The man's laughter was a rumbling, hair-raising sound, like gravel being crushed under heavy boots. "What? And miss all the fun?" The whispers from before grew louder, clawing at her senses, urging her to listen, to heed. Listen, listen, Rory heard them say. The gateway between Geoda. Something was wrong, unshaken and this place broke. The man's footfalls cut with abandon, traveling towards her like a storm. Free on her words, detached, as if she wasn't royally screwed yet. Rory's legs felt heavy, numb, reversing this false universe. She needed solace, the risk of unclean undertow, and certain death with Ursula's name. Rory tried to focus on the moonlight, letting it guide her as she stumbled backward, branches scraping her arms and face. She had to get away, but her feet felt made of lead. The forest was coming alive, more and more threatening. She had to get away, but her feet felt made of lead. The forest was coming to life, more threatening. "You can't escape fate," the man rasped, his voice sounding like it was coming from all around her. Rory swallowed hard. She could hear whispers. Closer and more insistent. "I'm not going with you," she said, her voice shaking but determined. Swipe right or left. Tinder. Coffee. Let's hook up in the Grove. "The Grove has you," the man said, he spoke again, his tone almost gentle. "It always gets you in the end." As panicked quietness overwhelmed her, Rory shook, wrecked her own face, but if this was a dream. Riley Voss, doctor, television. TV. You won't be able to handle it. You won't ever be able to forget it. But she didn't want to know, she didn't. Rory's foot caught on a gnarled root and she tumbled to the ground, pain lancing through her left wrist. The pendant! Where was the pendant? She clawed at the grass, searching desperately. It was magic. But Tinder. Jackson ran his thumb across the necklace. "body" A glimmer in the sickly moonlight, Rory's fingers closed around the Heartstone. She looked up just in time to see the shadowy figure looming over her, bandages hiding his face. The whispers grew to a deafening roar, screaming in her head.