Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMN6SFTGSYFPV7GJY4SK0B8

The air smelled like honeyed wine and something older—something that had been fermenting in the dark for centuries. Aurora Carter stepped over the threshold of the standing stone, her boots sinking slightly into the earth as if the ground itself were breathing. The pendant at her throat, the Heartstone, warmed against her skin, a faint pulse of heat that had nothing to do with the warmth radiating from the trees. The Fae Grove was nothing like the park she’d driven through earlier. The oaks here were ancient, their bark etched with runes that glowed faintly in the dim light, like veins of silver beneath translucent skin. Wildflowers—pinks, purples, and whites—bloomed in clusters, their petals shimmering as if dusted with stardust. The air hummed, a low vibration that settled in her bones, making her teeth ache slightly, as if the world itself were tuning to a frequency she couldn’t name. Beside her, Nyx moved like a shadow given form, their silhouette shifting as they stepped forward. Their voice was a whisper on the wind, just audible to her ears. *"This is not as it seems, little thief."* Aurora glanced back at them, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the Fae-forged blade at her waist. The cold of the weapon seeped through her coat, a constant reminder of what it could do. *"You said it yourself. It’s not London."* Nyx’s form flickered, solid for a moment before dissolving into smoke. *"No. But it is still a cage."* Isolde stood apart from them, her silver hair catching the light like spun moonlight. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, but her presence was a weight, a quiet certainty. The standing stones around them were older than the park’s name, older than the city itself. Their roots twisted into the earth, and the air between them crackled with something unseen. Aurora reached out, brushing her fingers against the bark of the nearest oak. The moment her skin touched the wood, a jolt of energy shot up her arm, like static from a forgotten memory. The pendant pulsed harder, its warmth spreading through her chest. *"What is this place?"* Isolde’s lips curled, not quite a smile. *"A pocket. Between worlds. Where time bends and the Veil is thin."* She gestured vaguely toward the grove. *"Step deeper, and you may find what you seek. Or what you fear."* Aurora exhaled sharply. She had come here for answers—not just about the pendant, but about the visions that had been haunting her since she’d first touched it. The way the world had tilted when she’d worn it. The way the air had *shifted*, like the moment before a storm breaks. She took another step forward, her boots crunching on fallen leaves that weren’t quite dead. They were too vibrant, too alive. The trees here didn’t just grow—they *thrived*, their branches stretching upward as if reaching for something beyond the sky. Nyx’s voice was a breath against her ear. *"Beware the stillness."* Aurora turned, but Nyx was already dissolving into smoke, reforming just ahead of her. The path ahead was clearer now, the ground less uneven, the air less thick with the hum of magic. She followed, her pulse quickening as the trees closed in around her. Then she saw it. A glade. Not a clearing—*a glade*—where the earth itself seemed to rise in gentle waves, like the surface of a pool of liquid silver. In the center stood a figure, tall and gaunt, their skin the color of old parchment. They held a goblet of wine, though the liquid within didn’t slosh—it *moved*, swirling in slow, deliberate patterns, as if caught in a current not of the earth but of something deeper. Prince Belphegor. Aurora’s breath caught. The ruler of Dymas, the realm of gluttony, stood before her, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. *"Ah,"* he said, his voice like syrup thickened with honey. *"The mortal who carries the Heartstone."* Nyx’s form solidified behind her, their voice a warning. *"Do not reach for it."* Aurora didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her feet were rooted to the spot, as if the earth had decided to hold her in place. The pendant at her throat burned, its warmth now a searing heat, like a brand pressed to her skin. Belphegor lifted the goblet, offering it to her. *"Drink, and you will see. Drink, and you will know."* Aurora’s fingers twitched. She could take it. She could— A sharp pain lanced through her wrist, sharp enough to make her gasp. She looked down, and there, just beneath the surface of her skin, was a thread of silver light, pulsing in time with the pendant. A ward. A *lock*. Isolde’s voice cut through the haze of her thoughts, her words sharp as shards of ice. *"You do not belong here, little thief. This is not your path."* Aurora tore her gaze from the goblet and looked at Isolde, her breath ragged. *"What do I do?"* Isolde’s eyes, pale lavender in the dim light, held hers. *"Walk away. Now."* The words barely left her lips before the world *shifted*. The trees groaned. The ground trembled. And then— Silence. The glade was gone. The prince was gone. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something older, something *hungry*. Aurora stumbled back, her boots sinking into the soft ground as if she were standing in quicksand. Nyx was solid again, their form solid and unyielding. *"We must leave. Now."* Aurora nodded, her pulse hammering in her throat. She turned, her fingers clutching the hilt of the Fae-forged blade. The cold was a comfort, a reminder that she was still herself. Still *here*. Isolde moved first, her silver hair shimmering as she stepped forward. The standing stones loomed larger now, their runes glowing brighter, as if sensing her urgency. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the bark of the nearest tree. The moment she touched it, the world *snapped* back into place. The park was real again. The sky was real. The air was real. And they were standing in the middle of Richmond Park, the grove nothing more than a memory. Aurora exhaled, her breath shaky. The pendant at her throat was cool now, its warmth gone. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde, her mind racing. *"What just happened?"* Isolde’s lips twitched, almost a smile. *"You were shown a taste of Dymas. A glimpse of what lies beyond the Veil."* Nyx’s voice was a whisper. *"And what you saw was a trap."* Aurora swallowed hard. She had come here for answers. She had come here because she had nowhere else to turn. But the answers she’d found were worse than the questions. She looked down at the pendant, at the silver thread beneath her skin. It pulsed once, then twice, like a heartbeat. *"Then what do we do?"*