Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMNCCJPD8KT8931K1X910DY

The first step onto the moss-slicked stones sent a jolt through Aurora’s bones, like the earth itself had exhaled. The air smelled of damp earth and something sweeter—wild honey, maybe, or the faintest trace of burnt sugar. She paused, fingers brushing the rough bark of the nearest oak, its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly, as if breathing. The standing stones loomed around them like silent sentinels, their surfaces carved with spirals and symbols she didn’t recognize, their edges worn smooth by centuries of unseen hands. Beside her, Nyx shifted restlessly, their shadowy form flickering like a candle flame in a draft. The Shade’s violet eyes gleamed with an eerie light, though Aurora couldn’t tell if it was their own glow or something reflecting off the strange, shimmering mist that curled between the trees. *"This place is wrong,"* Nyx murmured, their voice a whisper carried on the wind. *"Too still. Too… hungry."* Aurora swallowed hard. She’d expected the Fae Grove to be magical—she’d read enough myths to know that—but this was different. This was *alive*. The wildflowers swaying in the breeze weren’t just flowers; their petals shifted colors as she watched, deepening from lavender to violet to a shade so dark it looked like spilled ink. A butterfly with wings like stained glass fluttered past, its iridescent patterns shifting between emerald and sapphire as it landed on a thornless rose. The rose didn’t wilt. It *unfurled*, petals parting to reveal a single, perfect blackberry inside. Isolde, her silver hair catching the dappled light like moonlight on water, stepped forward without hesitation. Her pale lavender eyes were fixed on the standing stones, her lips moving silently as if reciting something she couldn’t remember. *"The Grove remembers us,"* she said at last, her voice like wind through reeds. *"But it doesn’t like us yet."* Aurora’s grip tightened on the Fae-forged blade at her belt. The dagger was cold to the touch, its moonsilver edge humming faintly against her skin. She hadn’t expected to need it here, but then again, she hadn’t expected *this*. The world around them wasn’t just beautiful—it was *watchful*. The air hummed with an energy she couldn’t name, something that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. It was like standing too close to a fire, where the heat wasn’t just warmth but a living thing, pressing against her skin. Nyx let out a soft, disbelieving hiss. *"It’s not just the Grove. Something else is here."* Their shadow stretched unnaturally long, pooling at the base of the nearest stone before dissolving into the mist. *"A rift. Not the Veil—something deeper."* Aurora’s stomach twisted. A rift. That meant Hel. That meant Dymas. Isolde’s fingers brushed the nearest stone, and the air between them *rippled*, like a stone dropped into still water. The symbols on the stone flared with light, and for a heartbeat, Aurora saw something beyond—golden light, rich as a feast spread, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wines thick in the air. Then it was gone, replaced by the sharp, metallic tang of fear. *"It’s hungry,"* Isolde whispered. *"And it’s been waiting."* A sound cut through the silence—a low, guttural growl, vibrating through the earth beneath their feet. The ground trembled slightly, and the flowers around them bent as if bowing. Nyx’s shadow coiled around Aurora’s ankles, pressing her back against the stone. *"We shouldn’t have come,"* they hissed. *"We’re too late."* Aurora’s pulse hammered in her throat. She could feel the Heartstone Pendant at her neck, warm against her skin, pulsing faintly as if in time with the rift. She reached up, fingers brushing the crimson gemstone. *"Then we fix it."* Isolde’s laugh was brittle, like dry leaves skittering across stone. *"Oh, child. You don’t understand."* She turned, her silver hair catching the light as she stepped toward the heart of the grove, where the standing stones formed a perfect circle. *"The Grove doesn’t give gifts. It takes. And what it takes… it never lets go."* The first drop of blood fell from the sky. Aurora barely had time to register the warmth on her cheek before the world *shifted*. The air thickened, pressing in around them like a living thing. The flowers shrieked—a sound like tearing silk—and the standing stones groaned, their ancient wood splitting as if under too much weight. The mist coiled tighter, wrapping around their ankles, their knees, their waists, until they were standing in a circle of golden light, the Grove forgotten behind them. Before her, the land stretched into something impossible. Vineyards sprawled endlessly, their grapes plump and ripe, hanging heavy on branches that arched like the ribs of some great, sleeping beast. The air was thick with the scent of roasted lamb, spiced wine, and something darker—something like burnt sugar and old blood. The sky above was the color of warm amber, bleeding into the horizon like a wound. *"Dymas,"* Nyx breathed, their voice trembling. *"Prince Belphegor’s feast."* Aurora’s breath caught. She could see it now—the grand hall, its ceiling lost in darkness, its walls lined with banquets so lavish they looked painted. Figures moved in the distance, their forms blurred by the heat haze, their laughter ringing like chimes. But it wasn’t just laughter. It was *pleading*. It was *screaming*. Isolde’s hand shot out, gripping Aurora’s wrist. The Fae-forged blade at her belt flared with light, its cold edge burning against her skin. *"We have to move. Now."* They ran. The ground beneath them was soft, yielding like a trampoline, each step sending ripples through the earth. The vineyards gave way to orchards, their trees heavy with fruit so perfect it looked unnatural—apples like rubies, pears like pearls, figs so ripe they oozed honey when touched. Nyx’s shadow darted ahead, their form flickering in and out of existence as they scouted the path. *"There’s a way in,"* they called back. *"But it’s guarded."* Aurora’s pulse roared in her ears. She could see it now—the grand feast hall, its doors carved with scenes of gluttony and excess, its tables groaning under the weight of dishes. And at its center, a throne of blackened bone, its occupant a figure draped in silver and gold, his laughter rich and deep as a cello’s lowest note. *"Belphegor,"* Isolde murmured, her voice tight. *"The Prince of Gluttony."* The air grew heavier, the scent of the feast thick enough to taste. Aurora’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. She hadn’t *wanted* to eat since yesterday. But now, the thought of a single bite made her mouth water, her fingers twitching like she could already feel the weight of a plate in her hands. *"No,"* she said aloud, her voice steadier than she felt. *"We don’t stop. We don’t look. We just go."* Nyx’s shadow flickered beside her, their form solidifying just long enough to nod. *"Then let’s move."* They ran into the orchard, branches whipping at their faces, fruit plopping to the ground with wet thuds. The trees here were taller, their leaves so dense they blocked out the amber sky, plunging them into twilight. The ground beneath them sloped downward, the air growing colder, the scent of the feast fading like a dream dissolving. Then, the trees parted. Before them stretched a chasm, its edges lined with blackened stone. The air above it shimmered, the Veil thin and fragile as spider silk. On the other side, the grove waited, its standing stones silent and still. But between them and the chasm stood something. A figure, tall and gaunt, its limbs too long, its fingers ending in claws. Its skin was the color of old parchment, its eyes hollow pits of black. It turned its head slowly, its mouth stretching into a grin too wide for its face. *"Lost, little mortals?"* Its voice was a rasp, like dry leaves scraping stone. *"The Prince would love to have you."* Aurora’s breath hitched. She could see the rift now, the tear in the Veil, pulsing like a heartbeat. And beyond it, the feast hall, the throne, the *hunger*. Nyx’s shadow surged forward, their form solidifying into a wall of darkness between Aurora and the thing. *"Run,"* they commanded, their voice a whisper of wind. Aurora didn’t hesitate. She lunged for the chasm, her fingers brushing the cold stone as she leapt. The world tilted, the ground falling away beneath her. For a heartbeat, she was weightless, suspended between realms. Then her feet hit the other side, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. She landed hard, rolling onto her side, her vision swimming. The standing stones loomed above her, their symbols flashing with light. The grove was whole again, the flowers swaying gently, the air cool and clean. Isolde was already moving, her silver hair catching the light as she stepped toward the nearest stone. *"We have to seal it,"* she said, her voice urgent. *"Before it’s too late."* Aurora pushed herself up, her hands shaking. The Heartstone pendant burned against her neck, its warmth steady, grounding. She reached for the Fae-forged blade, her fingers closing around the hilt. The cold was a comfort. Nyx was already there, their shadow pooling around the standing stones, their form flickering like a candle in a storm. *"We can do this,"* they said, their voice steady. *"But we have to be quick."* Aurora nodded, her pulse still hammering in her throat. She had no idea what they were doing. She had no idea if they could *actually* seal a rift to Hel. But she knew one thing for certain. They weren’t leaving anyone behind. The first stone groaned as Isolde pressed her palm against it, her fingers tracing the symbols with a speed that belied her age. The air hummed, the Veil shimmering like a sheet of water over a fire. Nyx’s shadow coiled around the base of the stone, their form solidifying into a barrier of darkness. Aurora gripped the Fae-forged blade, her other hand pressing against the pendant. *"Now,"* she said. Isolde’s voice was a whisper, a prayer, a curse. *"By blood and bone, by root and thorn, by the hunger of the hungry, we seal this door."* The world *shuddered*. The standing stones flared with light, their symbols burning bright as embers. The air between realms *ripped*, the tear in the Veil snapping shut like a drawn blade. The scent of the feast was gone, replaced by the clean, damp earth of the grove. The flowers swayed, their petals shifting back to their natural colors. Silence. Then, the standing stones settled, their light fading to a soft glow. The grove was whole again, the rift sealed. Aurora exhaled, her breath steadying. She turned to Nyx, her voice rough. *"We did it."* Nyx’s shadow flickered, their form solidifying just long enough to smile. *"For now."* Isolde stepped back, her silver hair catching the light as she turned to face them. *"The Grove remembers,"* she said, her voice like wind through reeds. *"And it will remember what we did here."* Aurora swallowed hard. She could feel the weight of the pendant at her neck, the cold of the blade at her belt. She could feel the hunger of Dymas, still out there, still waiting. But for now, it was sealed. For now, they were safe. Aurora exhaled, her breath steadying. She turned to Nyx, her voice rough. *"We did it."* Nyx’s shadow flickered, their form solidifying just long enough to smile. *"For now."* Isolde stepped back, her silver hair catching the light as she turned to face them. *"The Grove remembers,"* she said, her voice like wind through reeds. *"And it will remember what we did here."* Aurora nodded, her grip tightening on the Fae-forged blade. *"Then we’d better remember too."* The standing stones stood silent, their secrets safe for now. The grove was whole. And they were free.