Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMW2X2BE3A5XH0JKGMXZK9

The standing stones loomed like the ribs of some long-dead titan, their gnarled surfaces slick with dew under the pale London dawn. Rory adjusted the strap of her messenger bag, the Heartstone Pendant tucked safely beneath her shirt, its warmth a steady pulse against her sternum. The air smelled of damp earth and something older—something electric, like the moment before a storm breaks. Nyx materialized beside her, their form solidifying from the shadows cast by the oaks. The faint violet glow of their eyes flickered like candlelight in a draft. *"The boundary hums,"* they murmured, their voice a whisper carried on the wind. *"The Veil is thin here."* Rory exhaled, watching her breath curl into the cold air. "Isolde said the grove would let us in if it wanted to." She stepped forward, boots sinking into the moss between the stones. The moment her fingers brushed the nearest monolith, the world *shifted*. One heartbeat, she was in Richmond Park, the distant call of a crow cutting through the mist. The next— The trees stretched impossibly tall, their trunks silver-barked and luminous, leaves shimmering like stained glass in hues of emerald and gold. Wildflowers carpeted the ground, their petals unfurling in impossible colors—indigo, violet, a deep, bruised crimson that seemed to drink in the light. The air was warmer here, thick with the scent of honey and something sharper, like ozone after a lightning strike. Rory’s breath hitched. "Okay. That’s new." Nyx flowed forward, their shadowy form rippling as they moved deeper into the grove. *"The rules are different here,"* they said, crouching to trail their fingers through a patch of glowing blue blossoms. The petals curled inward at their touch, as if recoiling. *"Fae magic. It remembers."* A path wound ahead, paved with smooth river stones that glowed faintly underfoot. Rory followed, her pulse quickening. The Heartstone Pendant grew warmer, almost uncomfortably so, as if reacting to the magic saturating the air. She resisted the urge to pull it out and look at it—something about this place made her want to keep it hidden. The trees thinned, opening into a clearing where a single, massive oak stood at the center, its branches twisting toward the sky like grasping fingers. Beneath it, a figure sat cross-legged on a bed of moss, her silver hair spilling over her shoulders like liquid moonlight. Isolde. The Half-Fae seer didn’t turn as they approached, but her voice carried clearly, threaded with amusement. *"Took you long enough, little mortal. I was beginning to think you’d lost your nerve."* Rory bristled. "Traffic was hell." Isolde laughed, the sound like wind chimes in a breeze. She finally turned, her pale lavender eyes gleaming. *"And yet, here you are. The grove has judged you worthy."* Her gaze flicked to Nyx, lingering for a moment before she rose gracefully to her feet. *"Though I see you’ve brought a shadow with you. How… unexpected."* Nyx tilted their head, their form flickering at the edges. *"The Veil is thinning everywhere, Seer. Even in the places between."* Isolde’s smile faded, just for a second. Then she turned, beckoning them forward. *"Come. There’s something you should see."* The path beyond the clearing sloped downward, winding through a tunnel of flowering vines that swayed without wind. The deeper they went, the more the air hummed, a low, resonant vibration that Rory felt in her teeth. The Heartstone Pendant burned now, its heat seeping through her shirt. Nyx noticed. *"It reacts to the magic here."* Rory nodded, fingers brushing the fabric over the pendant. "It’s never done this before." Isolde glanced back, her expression unreadable. *"Perhaps it recognizes its kin."* The tunnel opened into a cavern—no, not a cavern. A *hollow*. The walls pulsed with bioluminescent veins of light, casting the space in an eerie, shifting glow. At the center of the hollow stood a pool of water so still it looked like glass. But it wasn’t the pool that made Rory’s breath catch. It was the *door*. Carved into the far wall, its edges wreathed in crackling violet energy, was an archway of black stone. Runes glowed along its surface, pulsing in time with the heartbeat of the grove. The air around it shimmered, warping like heat rising from pavement. Rory’s stomach twisted. "That’s a Hel portal." Isolde nodded. *"And it’s weakening. The Veil is fraying."* Nyx stepped forward, their form solidifying as they reached out. The moment their fingers brushed the shimmering air, the runes flared brighter, and a low, resonant *chime* echoed through the hollow. *"It’s old,"* they murmured. *"Older than the Wardens. Older than the Fae Courts."* Rory’s fingers curled into fists. "Can we close it?" Isolde’s laughter was soft, sad. *"Oh, little mortal. You don’t close a wound like this. You *tend* to it."* She turned, her silver hair catching the light. *"But first, you must understand what it is you’re tending."* She gestured to the pool. The water’s surface rippled, then stilled, and then— Images formed. A sprawling city of golden spires and winding canals, where the sky burned amber and the air smelled of spices and something sickly-sweet, like rotting fruit. Feasts stretched across endless tables, platters piled high with meats and pastries, wine flowing like rivers. But the people—no, not people. *Demons*—were hollow-eyed, their laughter too loud, their movements jerky, like marionettes on fraying strings. *"Dymas,"* Nyx breathed. *"The realm of Gluttony."* Rory’s throat tightened. "They’re trapped." Isolde’s voice was quiet. *"All of Hel is a prison, little mortal. But some chains are heavier than others."* The vision shifted. The portal flickered, its edges fraying, and through the gaps, Rory saw something *moving*. Shadows slithering, coalescing into shapes that didn’t quite hold form—hands reaching, mouths whispering. Nyx’s voice was a growl. *"They’re testing the boundaries."* Rory’s hand went to her bag, fingers brushing the cold metal of the Fae-forged blade Isolde had given her. "We can’t just leave it like this." Isolde turned to her, her lavender eyes unreadable. *"No. But you cannot fix it alone."* She reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out a small, woven pouch. Inside, something glinted—another pendant, this one carved from bone. *"Take this. It will guide you when the time comes."* Rory hesitated, then took it. The moment her fingers closed around the pouch, the Heartstone Pendant flared hot against her skin, and the runes on the portal *screamed*. The hollow trembled. Isolde’s voice cut through the chaos. *"Go. Now. The grove will not hold them back for long."* Nyx grabbed Rory’s arm, their grip solid and cold. *"We need to move."* They ran. The path back through the grove twisted unnaturally, branches snapping into place behind them like a living maze. The air grew thick, cloying, the scent of magic turning sour. Rory’s lungs burned, her legs aching, but she didn’t stop. Not when the trees groaned behind them. Not when the shadows at their feet *moved*. They burst back into the clearing, the standing stones looming ahead. Rory didn’t look back. She lunged for the boundary, fingers scraping against the monolith— —and then they were back in Richmond Park, the cold morning air slamming into her like a physical force. Rory gasped, doubling over, hands on her knees. Nyx materialized beside her, their form flickering in the weak sunlight. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Rory straightened, pulling the Heartstone Pendant from beneath her shirt. It glowed faintly, its crimson light pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Nyx’s violet eyes locked onto it. *"It’s not just a guide,"* they said slowly. *"It’s a key."* Rory’s fingers tightened around the pendant. "And we just walked into a door it fits." The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the distant sound of a crow’s call. Somewhere beyond the Veil, something was waiting. And it was hungry.