Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMY8D3CHN9PEGD6J3VCKRE

The winter air nipped at Aurora's cheeks as she approached the ancient oak standing stones marking the boundary of the grove. Frost crunched beneath her boots, the December sun hanging low in the sky behind the barren trees of Richmond Park. She glanced at Nyx, whose shadowy form seemed to flutter at the edges like smoke caught in a breeze. "Are you certain this is wise?" Nyx's voice came as a whisper, though no breath clouded the air before them. "The Fae are not known for their hospitality, especially during winter solstice." Aurora fingered the Heartstone Pendant at her throat, its crimson surface warmer than it should be in the frigid air. "Isolde invited us. Besides, we need answers." The third member of their party, a college student named Marcus who'd stumbled into their supernatural world just weeks ago, shifted nervously from foot to foot. "So we just... walk in?" "Not quite." Aurora reached into her pocket and withdrew a small pouch of salt. She sprinkled it across the threshold between two standing stones, watching as the crystals briefly glimmered blue before dissolving into nothing. "A gift for entry. The Fae appreciate exchanges." She took a deep breath and stepped through the stones. The world shifted—not dramatically, but in subtle ways that sent a shiver down her spine. The winter chill remained, but the quality of light changed, becoming softer, more diffuse. Sounds dampened, the distant traffic of London fading to silence. Nyx slipped through next, their form momentarily stretching like taffy before resolving. Marcus followed with obvious reluctance, his eyes widening as he crossed the boundary. "It's... different," he whispered, turning in a slow circle. "Like the air is thicker somehow." Aurora nodded. "Watch your step, and stay close. Time moves differently here." They followed a narrow path that hadn't been visible from outside the stones. Winter-bare trees gradually gave way to others still bearing leaves in impossible colors—deep purples and blues that shimmered with their own inner light. Wildflowers dotted the ground despite the season, their petals unfurled in defiance of winter's grip. The Heartstone Pendant pulsed against Aurora's skin, its rhythm slightly faster than her own heartbeat. She couldn't tell if it was warning her or encouraging her, but its warmth was oddly comforting as they ventured deeper into the grove. "Look there," Nyx said, their shadowy arm extending toward a clearing ahead. The trees opened to reveal a perfect circle of grass, its emerald hue too vibrant for December. At its center stood a small stone table with three carved chairs. Sitting in one, silver hair cascading down her back like moonlight on water, was Isolde Varga. "The seeker arrives with shadow and innocent in tow," Isolde said without turning. Her voice carried the musical lilt of the Fae Courts, though there was something human in its warmth. "Winter's threshold weakens as the longest night approaches." Aurora approached cautiously. "Thank you for agreeing to meet us, Isolde." The Half-Fae rose and turned, her pale lavender eyes seeming to look through rather than at them. She wore a simple dress of shifting colors that reminded Aurora of mother-of-pearl. "Sit," Isolde gestured to the empty chairs. "Time passes swiftly beyond the stones." Aurora took a seat, noticing how the stone felt neither cold nor warm beneath her. Nyx remained standing, their shadowy form unable to properly sit, while Marcus perched awkwardly on the edge of his chair. "You seek knowledge of the Veil's thinning," Isolde said, her gaze fixing on the Heartstone Pendant. "That which burns against your breast speaks of deeper hungers stirring in Dymas." "Prince Belphegor is planning something," Aurora confirmed. "The Heartstone led us to three separate rift points this week alone. The Wardens are stretched thin." Isolde smiled enigmatically. "Follow me. Words alone cannot paint what you must understand." She rose from her seat and moved toward a path Aurora hadn't noticed before. As they followed, the grove grew denser, the foliage overhead creating a tunnel of branches and leaves. Light filtered through in dappled patterns that seemed to form and reform into almost-recognizable symbols before dissolving again. "This is incredible," Marcus murmured, reaching out to touch a flower whose petals curled away from his fingers. "How has no one found this place before?" "Many have," Nyx replied, their form sliding between patches of shadow. "Few remember. The Fae realm touches lightly against human consciousness." The tunnel of vegetation opened suddenly into a vast clearing that defied the physics of Richmond Park. What should have been a modest wooded area stretched before them like an amphitheater, with terraced rings of earth descending to a central depression. In that depression stood a pool of water so still it appeared solid, reflecting the amber sky above with perfect clarity. Wait—amber sky? Aurora looked up, startled. The winter blue of London had been replaced by a warm golden hue that reminded her of honey held to sunlight. "The Veil thins here," Isolde explained, her feet making no sound as she descended toward the pool. "What you see above is not your sky, but that of Dymas. The realm of Gluttony reaches hungrily toward Earth when solstice approaches." Aurora felt a chill that had nothing to do with the December air. The Heartstone Pendant pulsed faster against her skin, almost painfully warm now. "Is this... safe?" she asked, following carefully down the terraced earth. Isolde's laugh was like distant wind chimes. "Safety is a mortal preoccupation, young seeker. But yes, we observe only. They cannot reach through—not here, not yet." As they approached the pool, Aurora realized it wasn't water at all, but something more viscous, with the consistency of mercury but the clarity of glass. Its surface rippled without wind. "Kneel," Isolde instructed, "and look upon Belphegor's domain." Aurora knelt at the pool's edge, conscious of Nyx hovering protectively behind her and Marcus crouching nervously at her side. She leaned forward, and the world inverted. Suddenly she was looking down—or was it up?—into a vast landscape of impossible abundance. Rolling hills covered with vineyards stretched toward the horizon, their fruits swollen and glistening. Great banquet tables laden with feasts dotted the landscape, surrounded by figures whose features were mercifully indistinct at this distance. "The Prince of Gluttony prepares a feast unlike any before," Isolde's voice came as if from far away. "The winter solstice approaches, when hunger may reach across barriers grown thin." As Aurora watched, transfixed, the scene shifted. The vineyards withered, the tables emptied, and the indistinct figures grew gaunt, desperate. Then the image rippled again, returning to abundance, but now she could see preparation for some grand event—servants rushing, chefs laboring over creations that defied natural law. "I don't understand," Aurora said, unable to tear her eyes away from the vision. "What are they preparing for?" "The consumption of experience," Isolde replied cryptically. "Not merely food sustains Gluttony's hunger, but the very act of desire and fulfillment. Belphegor seeks to taste the mortal world's wanting." The vision in the pool darkened suddenly, and Aurora gasped as a massive figure moved into view—humanoid but grotesquely proportioned, draped in finery that couldn't disguise its bloated form. Though she couldn't make out distinct features, she felt its gaze as if it looked directly at her. The Heartstone Pendant flared with heat, and Aurora jerked backward, breaking contact with the pool. The vision vanished, the surface returning to its mercury-glass stillness. "He sensed you," Isolde said, not sounding particularly concerned. "The pendant marks you to his sight." "That's... not comforting," Aurora touched the stone, which had cooled to merely warm again. She stood on shaky legs, aware that the amber light above had deepened to a burnt orange. "What can we do to stop whatever he's planning?" Isolde approached, her movements flowing like water. From within her shimmering dress, she withdrew something wrapped in leaves. "The Fae-Forged Blade has tasted demon essence before. It remembers their vulnerabilities." She unwrapped the bundle, revealing a slender, leaf-shaped dagger of moonsilver that seemed to drink in the light around it. Even in the growing dimness, its edge remained perfectly defined, as if cutting into reality itself. "I cannot leave my grove, but you walk between worlds already," Isolde held out the dagger. "The blade goes where it chooses. Today, it chooses you." Aurora hesitated before taking the weapon. It was unnaturally cold against her palm, yet somehow felt right in her grasp. "Thank you. But how do I use it against an entire realm's influence?" "Cut what binds," Isolde said, her enigmatic smile returning. "The feast requires channels—cords of influence stretching through weaknesses in the Veil. Find them with the pendant, sever them with the blade." The light above darkened further, shifting toward twilight though Aurora's watch showed it was barely past noon. "We should go," Nyx urged, their violet eyes brightening with concern. "The longer we stay, the more time passes outside." Isolde nodded. "The shadow speaks truth. What seems moments here may be hours beyond the stones." As if to emphasize the point, the grove around them began to change. The vibrant colors dimmed, and the wildflowers closed their petals. The air grew colder, with a biting edge that hadn't been present before. "The path back lies that way," Isolde pointed toward a narrow opening in the trees that definitely hadn't been there moments ago. "Follow it without deviation. And remember—Prince Belphegor has tasted your presence now. The Veil will not shield you as it once did." Aurora clutched the Fae blade tightly as she led her companions toward the exit path. The weapon's cold intensity matched her resolve, even as uncertainty churned in her stomach. Behind them, Isolde's voice floated on the wind. "When gluttony's hunger reaches through the longest night, look to what sustains rather than consumes. The feast carries its own undoing." The path narrowed as they hurried forward, branches reaching like fingers overhead. The amber light faded entirely, replaced by the natural gray of a London winter afternoon. As they approached the standing stones, Aurora felt the Veil's subtle resistance—the barrier that separated ordinary Richmond Park from the Fae-touched grove. With one last look behind them at the otherworldly domain, Aurora stepped through the stones, the Heartstone Pendant cooling against her skin and the Fae blade hidden beneath her coat. The familiar sounds of distant traffic returned, along with the everyday smell of London winter. Marcus checked his phone and blanched. "We were in there for four hours!" Aurora felt the weight of their discovery pressing down on her. Four hours lost, and the winter solstice was only days away. Whatever Belphegor planned would come to fruition soon—and somehow, she needed to stop a Prince of Hel with nothing but a dagger and a pendant that marked her to his sight. She touched the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist—a nervous habit—and took a steadying breath. "Then we'd better hurry."