Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMN15FM6A6Q59S9H2P495MD

The air smelled like honeyed wine and something older—something that had been fermenting for centuries. Aurora Carter stepped forward, her boots sinking slightly into the rich, golden earth, which gave way beneath her like dampened sponge. The sky above was a warm amber, streaked with veins of gold that pulsed faintly, as if the very atmosphere were alive. She adjusted the silver chain of the Heartstone Pendant around her neck, feeling its warmth against her skin. It pulsed once, slow and steady, as if answering her presence. Beside her, Nyx moved like a living shadow, their form flickering between substance and mist. Their violet eyes gleamed with an eerie light, scanning the landscape with an intensity that made Aurora’s skin prickle. "This is Dymas," Nyx murmured, their voice a whisper carried on the wind. "Prince Belphegor’s domain." Aurora exhaled slowly. She had expected something monstrous, something grotesque—hellfire and screaming souls—but this was worse. This was *beautiful*. And that made it dangerous. Ahead, the vineyards stretched endlessly, rows of grapevines heavy with fruit so ripe it seemed to hum. The grapes shimmered with an inner light, their skins iridescent, as if they’d been dusted with stardust. A breeze carried the scent of spiced meats and roasted nuts, though no fire or smoke was visible. The air was thick with the promise of feasts that had never ended. Isolde Varga lingered at the edge of the path, her silver hair catching the golden light like spun moonlight. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, but her pale lavender eyes were fixed on something beyond Aurora’s sight. "The Veil is thin here," Isolde said at last, her voice like the rustling of leaves in an unseen wind. "But so is the prince’s patience." Aurora glanced back at the group—Silas, her landlord, who had insisted on coming despite his usual skepticism, and two of his bartenders, Jake and Mara, who had been drawn in by the promise of adventure and the promise of free drinks in the afterlife. They all looked as uneasy as she felt, their faces pale beneath the amber glow. Silas cleared his throat. "Right. So, uh. We’re in hell. And it smells like a Michelin-starred restaurant." Mara smirked, but her grip on the dagger at her hip tightened. "I was expecting more *hellscape* vibes." Jake, ever the optimist, squinted at the vineyards. "I call dibs on the wine." A distant chime echoed through the air, deep and resonant, like a gong struck in a cathedral. The ground trembled ever so slightly beneath their feet, and the grapes on the nearest vines rippled, as if in response. Nyx’s form darkened, their silhouette sharpening into something more solid. "That’s the prince’s signal," they said. "He knows we’re here." Aurora’s pulse quickened. "We should move. Now." They turned and began walking, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth. The path widened as they went, revealing more of Dymas’s opulence. Towering fruit trees laden with fruit so large it looked unreal—peaches the size of melons, figs that glowed faintly, grapes that dripped a sap like liquid gold—lined the way. A fountain in the distance bubbled with a liquid that wasn’t water, shimmering with colors that shifted like oil on rain. Then, the first taste. Aurora’s mouth watered before she could stop it. The scent of roasted chestnuts filled her nose, and suddenly, she was *starving*. Her stomach growled, loud enough that Silas shot her a look. "You okay?" She swallowed. "Fine." But it wasn’t fine. It was *wrong*. Her body was betraying her, her hunger twisting into something primal, something that didn’t belong to her. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to focus. The pendant pulsed again, warm against her chest, as if it sensed her unease. Nyx’s voice cut through her thoughts. "Stay close to the path. The deeper you go, the harder it is to leave." They pressed on, the group sticking together. The trees grew taller, their branches heavy with fruit that seemed to *call* to them, their colors shifting in the amber light. Ahead, a bridge arched over a river of liquid gold, its surface rippling like molten metal. On the other side, a feast was laid out—plates of food so elaborate they looked like sculptures, steam rising from dishes that shouldn’t have been hot, shouldn’t have been *real*. Isolde stepped forward, her bare feet leaving no impression in the earth. "The prince’s hospitality is… generous," she said, though her voice held no warmth. "But generosity has its price." Aurora didn’t need to see the Veil to know it was thinner here. The air hummed with something unseen, something *hungry*. The pendant burned against her skin, its warmth now a searing heat. She reached up, gripping it tightly. Then, a sound. A laugh—deep, rich, and utterly *wrong*. It slithered through the air, winding around them like smoke. The group froze. From between the trees emerged a figure—a man, tall and broad-shouldered, his skin the color of polished mahogany, his eyes glowing like embers. He wore a robe of woven gold and silver, embroidered with vines that seemed to shift and grow. Prince Belphegor. His smile was slow, knowing. "Ah. New guests." Aurora’s breath caught. The man was *perfect*—in the way a predator is perfect. In the way a storm is perfect. In the way hell itself should look. Belphegor tilted his head. "You’ve come for the food, I think. Or perhaps the wine." His gaze flicked to the pendant at Aurora’s neck. "Or maybe you’ve come for *this*." The pendant flared, its warmth now a pulse of fire against her skin. Aurora gasped, stumbling back. The group scattered, instinct taking over. Nyx moved first, their shadowy form dissolving into mist before reforming at Belphegor’s side. "You shouldn’t have summoned us," Nyx said, their voice a blade of ice. The prince chuckled. "Summoned? No, no. I merely *welcomed*." His fingers twitched, and the air around him rippled. "You see, my dear Shade, I’ve been waiting for someone with your… *taste*." Aurora’s mind raced. The pendant. It was a beacon. A *lure*. She had to get away from it. She lunged for the river of gold, her boots splashing through the surface. The liquid was warm, almost *alive*, and it clung to her skin as she waded deeper. The pendant burned against her, its heat searing through her shirt. She had to lose it. Had to *throw* it away. But the river was deeper than it looked. The water rose to her waist, then her chest, pulling her under. She fought, her lungs burning, her vision swimming. The pendant—*gone*. She kicked, surfacing with a gasp, her lungs screaming for air. She was on the other side now, standing on solid ground. The river behind her was just a trickle, the gold now dust in the wind. She turned, panting, to see the others. Silas was already running toward her, Mara close behind. Jake clutched his stomach, his face pale. "What the hell was that?" Aurora didn’t answer. She was too busy staring at the pendant in Silas’s hand. It wasn’t there anymore. The pendant had *moved*. It was now around Silas’s neck, its chain glinting in the amber light. His eyes widened. "What—?" The pendant pulsed, then *flared*, its crimson glow casting eerie shadows across Silas’s face. He staggered, his breath hitching. His body seemed to *change*—his skin darkening, his veins glowing faintly, his hunger twisting into something primal. Nyx was on him in an instant, their shadowy form wrapping around Silas like a noose. "No," Nyx whispered. "Please." Silas’s eyes locked onto Aurora’s. His lips peeled back in a snarl. "Rory…" Aurora’s blood turned to ice. The pendant had chosen. And it had chosen *him*.