Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KR792KXY5RYKJJ7Q2A4QMN

Night had dropped hard over Richmond Park and the paths were empty. Aurora pulled her coat tighter against the damp and checked the time on her phone. 2:17. The pendant hung cold against her chest under her shirt, a deep crimson thumbnail on a silver chain, and it had not warmed. She had told herself it was a job. A late delivery to Silas' bar had gone wrong, a regular who claimed he left a package for pickup at the old oak stones, and the tip was stupidly high. Yu-Fei would have laughed at her for taking it. The trees closed in as she left the main avenue. The map on her phone showed nothing but green. The standing stones rose out of the grass ahead, seven ancient oaks set in a loose circle, their trunks thick with moss. Wildflowers pushed up between them even in November, white and yellow and impossible. She stopped at the edge of the circle and lifted the pendant. The stone stayed dark. "Right. Hello." Her voice sounded thin. She tucked the scar on her left wrist under her sleeve without thinking, the small crescent from when she was nine and a kettle tipped. The air inside the circle felt heavier. The wind that had been tugging at her hair stopped. She stepped between two stones. The ground under her boots changed from packed earth to soft loam. The flowers leaned toward her. A sound came from the left. A twig snap, sharp and close, then nothing. Aurora turned her head. Bright blue eyes caught movement in the dark between trunks, a flicker of pale. "Show yourself." No answer. The silence returned, too complete. Even the distant traffic on Roehampton Lane had gone. She pulled out her phone again. Signal had died at the stones. The screen showed 2:17 still. The pendant was warm now. A faint heat pressed against her skin. The crimson gem pulsed once, slow. She walked further into the clearing. The centre was open, a flat ring of grass where no leaves had fallen. A hollow oak stood there, its trunk split open like a mouth. Inside the split, something glowed. She reached the hollow and stopped. The glow was not from her phone. It was low and amber, breathing. "You shouldn't be here." The voice came from behind her. Low, male, close enough that she felt the air move. Aurora spun. No one stood there. The stones stood. The flowers stood. "You shouldn't be here." She stared at the hollow. The glow steadied. "Who's there?" A shape shifted at the edge of vision, just beyond the right-hand stone. She caught it out of the corner of her eye, a dark that moved wrong against the dark. She turned. The space between the stones was empty. Grass. Flowers. Her breath came short. The pendant was hot now, enough to sting. The gem threw a faint inner light across her palm. The wind returned. It moved through the oaks with a rush that made them groan. The sound did not match the trees. It came from inside them. She took a step back toward the stones. The ground felt uneven under her boots, as if the loam had shifted while she watched. "I'm leaving." The flowers leaned away from her as she moved. The glow in the hollow dimmed. A laugh came, soft and close to her ear. She jerked her head up. Nothing. The standing stones were not where she left them. One of them had moved. The seventh oak now stood a foot closer to the centre, its roots showing above the soil where they had been buried. Aurora's coat caught on a low branch as she turned. The branch was not low a moment before. Her fingers brushed bark that was warm. "Enough." The pendant flared. The crimson stone glowed hard enough to paint her chest red. The heat spiked and then dropped. The air changed. The clearing smelled of wet earth and something sweet and rot. She heard footsteps behind her, bare feet on soft ground. Slow. Deliberate. They stopped when she stopped. She did not turn. "You're not alone." The words came from the hollow. From the trees. From the space where the shape had been. She lifted her hands, empty. Her phone was in her pocket, dead weight. The glow in the hollow steadied again. It pulsed in time with the pendant. She looked down at her wrist. The crescent scar had gone white. It throbbed. The shape moved again at the edge of vision. This time she saw it. A tall, thin outline, hair like black water, eyes that caught the pendant's light and threw it back wrong. It did not step forward. It waited. Aurora's throat worked. She spoke to the air, to the shape, to herself. "Rory Carter. Delivery for Silas. That's it." The footsteps resumed. Closer. The oak standing stones groaned. Bark split with a sound like a bone cracking. From the split, a thin white root rose, uncurling toward her ankle. She stepped back. The root followed. The pendant pulsed once, hard, and the crimson light spilled across the grass. The flowers shivered and turned their faces up. A whisper slid through the clearing, in a language that felt like Welsh and something older. She pulled the chain over her head. The stone was burning now. "Fine. Take it." She opened her hand. The shape stepped into the open.