Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMN94MB3SAEHK6ZENKP978

The air changed as they crossed the threshold marked by ancient oaks. Aurora felt it first—a subtle shift in pressure, as if her ears needed to pop. The forest around them transformed with each step. Richmond Park's familiar paths dissolved into something wilder, more primeval, where dappled sunlight cut through a canopy that shouldn't have been so dense in December. "Everyone feel that?" Aurora asked, touching the Heartstone Pendant at her throat. It remained cool against her skin, offering no warning of Hel portals nearby. This was something different. Nyx moved beside her, their form rippling like smoke caught in crosswinds. "Time thins here," they whispered, voice barely distinguishable from the rustling leaves. "We should proceed with caution, Aurora." The third member of their unlikely party drifted forward without hesitation. Isolde's silver hair caught the strange light, seeming to absorb and reflect it in equal measure. Her feet made no sound on the forest floor—no breaking twigs, no rustling leaves. She simply glided forward, pale lavender eyes fixed on something beyond mortal sight. "You're returning me home, in a manner of speaking," Isolde said, her voice musical and distant. "The veil wears thin where my kind have walked often." Aurora exchanged glances with Nyx, whose shadowy form solidified slightly in what she'd come to recognize as their version of alertness. The Fae-Forged Blade tucked into Aurora's boot seemed suddenly colder, as if responding to their surroundings. They followed a path that appeared with each step and vanished behind them. Wildflowers bloomed impossibly alongside it—bluebells, foxgloves, and others Aurora couldn't name, all flourishing despite the winter chill that should have gripped London. "It's beautiful," Aurora murmured, bending to examine a cluster of star-shaped blooms that pulsed with gentle bioluminescence. "But unsettling." "The Fae do not distinguish between beauty and danger as humans do," Nyx observed. "Often, their most alluring creations harbor the greatest threats." "Listen not to shadow-songs," Isolde called back, "for they know only the spaces between things, not the things themselves." Aurora straightened, suppressing a smile at Nyx's bristling reaction—their form growing spikier around the edges. The rivalry between the Fae and the ancient sorcerer-turned-Shade remained undiminished even after centuries. The grove opened before them suddenly, as if reality had hiccupped. One moment they walked through dense woodland, the next they stood at the edge of a perfect circular clearing. Standing stones—not the gray granite Aurora might have expected, but living oak trees twisted into impossible shapes—ringed the space, their ancient trunks carved with spiraling symbols that seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of one's eye. At the center stood a small pool of water so still it mirrored the amber sky above with perfect clarity. Aurora blinked, disoriented. Amber sky? She looked up and gasped. The blue December sky of London had vanished, replaced by a warm amber expanse threaded with clouds that moved too quickly. "This can't be right," she said, her hand instinctively seeking the Heartstone. It remained cool. "This looks like—" "Dymas," Nyx finished, their voice tightening. "The sky of Gluttony." Isolde laughed, the sound like water over stones. "The sky is as the visitor needs it to be. Look again, shadow-dancer." Aurora watched in fascination as Nyx tilted their featureless face upward. The shadow-being went perfectly still. "What do you see?" she asked. "Void," Nyx whispered. "The spaces between stars." Aurora looked up again, expecting to see either Dymas's amber vault or perhaps Nyx's cosmic emptiness. Instead, she saw twilight—neither day nor night, but the perfect balance between. Stars were just beginning to emerge, while the last purple-gold rays of sunset lingered at the horizon. "It shows us different skies," she murmured, the crescent scar on her wrist itching as it often did when she encountered powerful magic. "Why?" Isolde approached the still pool, her silver hair falling forward as she knelt beside it. "The grove exists in the space between spaces. It touches many realms at once—Earth, Fae, even the edges of Hel. It is a nexus point where the Veil grows gossamer-thin." She gestured to the water. "Come. See what you've journeyed to find." Aurora approached cautiously, Nyx a comforting shadow at her side. The pool remained unnaturally still, not even rippling when a breeze stirred Isolde's hair. As Aurora leaned over it, she expected to see her reflection—black hair, bright blue eyes, the face that had stared back at her from mirrors her entire life. Instead, she saw London—but not the London she knew. This was London ablaze, buildings crumbling as massive cracks split the earth. People ran screaming through streets choked with oily black smoke. And rising from the Thames, a monstrous shape assembled itself from darkness and bones, its shoulders scraping skyscrapers as it pulled itself free from some underground prison. "What is this?" Aurora whispered, unable to look away even as horror crawled up her spine. "The winter solstice approaches," Isolde said softly. "When the Veil weakens most. What you see is one possible tomorrow." "Possible?" Aurora tore her gaze from the apocalyptic vision. "Not certain?" "The Fae cannot lie," Nyx reminded her, their form darkening with what Aurora had learned to read as concern. "But they excel at misleading." Isolde's pale lavender eyes met Aurora's. "Possible futures branch like roots from a tree. This one grows strongest, fed by intention and ancient hunger. Prince Belphegor stirs in Dymas, plotting his ascension." The name sent a shiver through Aurora. She'd encountered evidence of the Gluttony Prince's servants in London—souls contracted from Dymas, establishing footholds for their master. The pendant at her throat finally warmed slightly, as if acknowledging the threat. "The water shows more than doom," Isolde continued. "Touch its surface." Aurora hesitated, looking to Nyx, who gave the barest shake of their shadowy head—a warning. But they had come too far for caution now. She extended her hand, finger hovering just above the mirror-like surface. "What will I see?" she asked. "What you need," Isolde replied with typical Fae crypticism. Aurora touched the water. It felt neither wet nor cold, but like touching the surface of a soap bubble—a tension that bent but didn't break. Ripples spread outward from her finger, and the scene shifted. Now she saw herself standing at the edge of what could only be a Hel portal—a tear in reality that shimmered with malevolent energy. In her hand, she held the Fae-Forged Blade, which glowed with moonlight despite the underground setting. Behind her stood figures in shadow—Nyx certainly, but others too, allies gathered for a final stand. Before her, emerging from the portal, loomed a figure of terrible beauty and power—Belphegor himself, his form both alluring and revolting in its excess. The vision-Aurora raised the blade, and as she did, the Heartstone Pendant at her throat flared with crimson light. The real Aurora gasped and jerked her hand back. The water stilled instantly, returning to its perfect mirror state. "You need allies," Isolde said, rising to her feet in one fluid motion. "The coming battle cannot be won alone." "What did you see?" Nyx asked Aurora, their whisper-voice closer than before. "A confrontation," she said, her throat dry. "With Belphegor. There were others with us—fighting alongside us." "Names would be useful," Nyx said dryly. "The water shows truth but not detail," Isolde said. "You must seek the allies yourself, Malphora." Aurora startled at the use of the strange name—one that had begun appearing in her dreams months ago, before she'd even known about Hel or the Veil. "Why do you call me that?" Isolde smiled enigmatically. "It is what you will become, if you succeed. The name waits for you, as the blade waited." The Fae-Forged Blade in Aurora's boot grew colder, as if responding to Isolde's words. She reached down to touch it through the leather, drawing comfort from its solid presence. "How do we find these allies?" she asked. "Some already walk your path," Isolde said, glancing at Nyx. "Others must be awakened to their purpose. One waits in the realm of excess—a chef whose soul is contracted but not yet lost." "Dymas," Nyx said, their form rippling with obvious distaste. "You suggest we venture into Gluttony itself?" "I suggest nothing," Isolde replied. "I merely reveal paths." Aurora looked up at the twilight sky, feeling the weight of what they'd learned. The grove around them pulsed with ancient magic, wildflowers glowing brighter as darkness deepened. Time moved differently here, Nyx had said. How long had they been gone from the real world? Minutes? Hours? Days? "We should go," she said, suddenly anxious. "We have what we came for." "Do we?" Nyx asked softly. Isolde approached Aurora, moving with that unsettling grace that left no footprints. From within the folds of her ethereal garment, she produced a small cloth bag that smelled of herbs and starlight. "For the crossing," she said, placing it in Aurora's hand. "When you seek the contracted chef in Dymas." Aurora accepted the bag, feeling its contents shift like sand. "Thank you, Isolde." The Fae woman's ageless face softened momentarily. "We are both exiles in our way, Malphora. I from the Courts, you from your destiny. Yet here we stand, making our way home through crooked paths." With those words, Isolde turned and walked toward the far side of the grove, her silver hair and pale form fading into the growing darkness until she simply wasn't there anymore. Aurora looked at Nyx. "Ready to return to the world?" The Shade's form solidified slightly, their glowing violet eyes brightening. "The question, Aurora Carter, is whether the world is ready for what we bring back." Together they turned, seeking the path that would lead them out of the grove and back to London—back to a city unknowingly perched on the edge of catastrophe, with the solstice drawing nearer every day.