Run: 2026-10-07-01M4AV4KCJYBD185T823TGY4J6

The ancient oaks loomed like sentinels, their gnarled branches twisting into the moonless sky. Rory stepped over the threshold of the standing stones, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. The air smelled of wet moss and something sweeter—wildflowers, though it was the wrong season for them. She adjusted the strap of her bag, the Heartstone pendant warm against her collarbone. She shouldn’t have come at night. But the note had been clear: *Midnight, or not at all.* A twig snapped behind her. Rory froze, fingers tightening around the pendant. The Grove was never silent, but this was different. The usual hum of insects, the rustle of unseen creatures—gone. Only the faint pulse of the Heartstone, steady as a second heartbeat. She turned slowly. Nothing. Just the trees, their bark rough and dark in the dim light. “Eva?” Her voice sounded too loud. No answer. The note had been in Eva’s handwriting—or close enough. *Meet me at the Grove. I’ve found something.* But Eva knew better than to wander here after dark. Everyone did. A whisper of movement, just beyond the edge of her vision. Rory spun, her pulse hammering. The shadows between the trees seemed thicker, as if something lingered just out of sight. “This isn’t funny,” she muttered. No reply. Only the wind, stirring the leaves in a way that sounded almost like laughter. She exhaled, forcing her shoulders to relax. The Grove played tricks. That was all. The Fae-touched places always did. But then the pendant flared, its crimson glow seeping through the fabric of her shirt. Rory’s breath hitched. A Hel portal? Here? The air shifted. A scent like rotting fruit curled into her nostrils. Her stomach twisted. “Eva, if that’s you, stop messing around.” Silence. Then—a footstep. Not hers. Rory’s grip on the pendant turned white-knuckled. The warmth of it burned now, not just a pulse but a warning. She took a step back, her heel catching on a root. The trees seemed to lean in, their branches creaking like old bones. A shadow detached itself from the trunk of an oak. Tall. Too tall. Its edges blurred, as if the darkness itself had taken shape. Rory’s throat went dry. “Who are you?” The shadow didn’t answer. It just… watched. Then, from the opposite side of the clearing, a voice—soft, familiar. “Rory?” Eva’s voice. Rory’s chest tightened. “Eva?” The shadow twitched. “Over here!” Eva called, but the voice came from everywhere and nowhere, as if the Grove itself had spoken. Rory’s instincts screamed. The pendant was a brand against her skin. She didn’t move. The shadow stretched, elongating like smoke. A whisper slithered through the air, a word in a language that made her teeth ache. Then—laughter. Eva’s laughter. Rory’s vision swam. The trees spun. For a second, she saw Eva standing between the oaks, grinning, her dark hair catching the faint glow of the pendant. Then the image flickered, like a candle in the wind, and Eva’s face stretched, her mouth too wide, her eyes black and endless. Rory stumbled back. The shadow lunged. She barely dodged, her boot skidding in the damp earth. The pendant seared her palm. The shadow hissed, recoiling as if burned. “Eva, *run*,” Rory shouted, but the words tangled in her throat. The laughter came again, closer this time. The shadow split, multiplying, until the Grove was full of them—twisting, writhing things that moved like living smoke. Rory’s back hit the rough bark of an oak. The pendant’s glow flared, casting jagged red light across the clearing. The shadows hissed, retreating just enough for her to see the path between the stones. She didn’t think. She ran. The moment she crossed the boundary, the weight on her chest lifted. The shadows vanished. The Grove was just a Grove again—silent, still. But the pendant didn’t cool. It burned, hotter than before. And behind her, just beyond the stones, something laughed.