Run: 2026-09-23-01M37HQDG3E7PTK7K40WF5QKND

The first thing Rory noticed was the absence of traffic. Richmond Park lay behind her, all dark paths and distant roads. She had heard a car less than a minute ago. Now, between the upright pillars of ancient oak, there was nothing. No tyres, no wind in the trees. Even her breathing sounded as though it belonged to somebody standing a few feet away. She checked her phone. 11:58 p.m. No signal. The note in her coat pocket had said midnight. You want to know who gave you the stone? Come to the grove. Alone. No signature. She had found it under the door of her flat above Silas’ bar, folded around a pressed white flower. She’d spent half an hour looking at the handwriting and another half hour telling herself she was not going. Then she’d put on her boots. Rory stepped between the oak pillars. Beyond them, the ground opened into a clearing washed in moonlight. Wildflowers grew thick among the grasses, small white and yellow blooms that had no business being there in November. She knew that much about the grove. She also knew time could misbehave inside it. She had told herself she would stay ten minutes. At the boundary, she pulled a receipt from her pocket and tucked it into a split in the nearest oak pillar. The paper was printed with the Golden Empress logo and a customer’s order for three portions of sweet-and-sour chicken. If the paths shifted, she wanted a marker she could recognise. Then she walked in. The Heartstone rested against her skin beneath her jumper, a thumbnail-sized weight on its silver chain. Its faint inner glow showed through the fabric when she looked down. She drew it out and held the deep crimson gem in her palm. Cool. “Right,” she said. “I’m here.” Her voice travelled a little way into the clearing and stopped. She took another few steps. The grass brushed her calves. The flower heads all faced the same direction, though she couldn’t see the moon through the branches on that side. Somewhere beyond the clearing came a soft metallic chime. Rory turned. It sounded again. Two quick notes, then one: the bell above the door at the Golden Empress. She had heard Yu-Fei come through that door often enough to know its uneven little rhythm. There was no door here. She waited for a voice, or for the bell to ring a third time. Nothing followed. The clearing remained still. A branch moved at the edge of her sight. She looked straight at it. An ordinary branch, slender and bare, hanging from an oak that leaned over the grass. It was still moving when she found it, swaying gently back and forth. None of the branches around it stirred. Rory put the Heartstone away. “Very funny.” She could hear the strain in her voice. She listened for an answer, annoyed with herself for expecting one. The chime did not come again. Instead, she heard footsteps in the grass behind her. She turned at once. The way back lay open between the pillars. Her receipt was a pale fleck against the dark oak. Beyond it, the park path disappeared into trees. No one was there. Rory took a step toward the boundary. Grass whispered at her back. She stopped, and the whisper stopped just after she did. For a few seconds she stood with one foot forward, feeling the cold damp creep through her boot. Then she walked three quick paces and halted. One, two, three. A fourth step sounded behind her. She spun around. The flowers nodded where she had passed. Farther out, near the middle of the clearing, a strip of grass bent under a weight she could not see. It rose slowly when that weight lifted. Her hand went to the pendant. It had grown warm. She remembered the little scrap of paper that had arrived with it, before the note under her door: a warning, not an explanation. The stone would warm near a Hel portal. Whoever had sent it had assumed she would know what to do with that information. Rory looked back at the boundary. The receipt was still there. Perhaps the grove had its own noises. Perhaps something had followed her in and was keeping to the trees. Either way, she had no reason to stay. A woman cleared her throat behind her. It was a small, polite sound. Rory had made it herself a dozen times that day while waiting for someone to move aside on a crowded pavement. She went cold. The pendant gave one faint pulse against her fingers. Rory walked toward the oak pillars. She kept her eyes on the receipt and counted her steps. At eight, a second pair of footsteps joined hers, soft and close. At twelve, they fell into time with her own. She stopped counting. She wanted to run, but the receipt had begun to move. It fluttered in the split wood although the grass remained still. As she watched, its printed face turned toward her. Three portions of sweet-and-sour chicken. A grease mark from the bottom of her delivery bag. She was close enough now to make out the writing she had put on the back. Rory halted. She hadn’t written anything on the back. The paper snapped flat against the oak. In thick, dark strokes, it said: COME BACK. She heard her own voice from the clearing. “I’m here.” The words were exact. Same pitch, same impatient edge she’d given them minutes ago. Rory backed away from the pillar. The pendant warmed quickly, until its edges hurt her palm. She opened her fingers and saw red light leak between them, faint but steady. Near a Hel portal. She searched the clearing for any change. No opening had appeared in the earth. The trees stood where they had stood before. The only movement was in the grass behind her, where a narrow track pressed forward, blade by blade. Whatever had made it was approaching the boundary with her. Rory glanced at the receipt again. COME BACK faced her from the oak. She had seen it blank when she first tucked it there. The paper was no longer any use as a marker. The other footsteps stopped. A terrible thought came to her: it was waiting for her to choose a way out. She forced herself to look past the pillars. The park path was visible between them, but its gravel shone too brightly. A patch of bracken she remembered passing on the way in was gone. She couldn’t trust what she saw. She could trust the heat in her hand. The pendant pulsed harder when she held it toward the gap. She moved it left. Cooler. Right. Hot enough to make her flinch. She turned slowly, arm extended, and felt the strongest heat when she pointed not at the gap but at the place in the grass where the unseen track ended. The thing following her stood between her and the oak pillars. Rory’s fingers tightened around the stone. She had carried it here for whoever had written the note. Perhaps that was all the note had been for. She unclasped the silver chain. The grass dipped a yard away. Rory threw the pendant across the clearing. The crimson stone caught the moonlight once before vanishing among the flowers. Its chain made a thin, bright sound as it struck a root. The grass in front of her flattened in a sudden rush, a trail racing after it. Rory ran the other way. She aimed for the left-hand pillar, not the space between them. She had touched that oak when she tucked in the receipt; she remembered the rough split beneath her fingertips. Now she drove her shoulder against it and felt hard wood hold. From there she turned, reached past the pillar, and found empty air. She stepped through. Traffic sounded at once. A car hissed over wet tarmac somewhere beyond the trees. Wind lifted her hair. Rory stumbled onto the park path and kept going until the oak pillars were hidden behind her. Only then did she look at her phone. 6:14 a.m. Three days later. She had twenty-seven missed calls from Eva and eleven from Silas. A message from Yu-Fei asked whether she was ill. Rory stood in the grey morning with the screen trembling in her hand, trying to think which call to return first. Behind her, from deep among the trees, the bell above the Golden Empress door gave its two quick notes and one more. Rory started down the path. She did not look back. After a few steps, something warm touched the inside of her left wrist, just below the small crescent scar. She reached into her coat pocket without slowing. Her fingers closed around the Heartstone.