Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPATXJXK26ZNRJF9M8CT4H

The Heartstone pendant pulsed against Aurora's collarbone like a second heartbeat as she stepped through the standing stones. The air shimmered around them, thick with the scent of honeysuckle and something metallic beneath—like blood on the wind. She rubbed the small crescent scar on her wrist, an old nervous habit. "Told you she'd be here," Nyx murmured from the shifting shadows between two ancient oaks. Their violet eyes glowed faintly in the twilight as they solidified into humanoid form, though their edges still blurred like ink in water. Aurora squinted at the grove ahead. Wildflowers bloomed in impossible colors—indigo petals with gold veins, crimson blossoms that pulsed like living embers. "Time's different here, isn't it?" She glanced at her watch; the second hand stuttered, then spun backward. "Faster or slower depends on the Grove's mood," Isolde said, appearing between two foxgloves taller than she was. The silver-haired seer left no footprints in the dew-heavy grass. Her lavender eyes tracked something unseen in the canopy. "Today she's restless. Best not linger overlong." Nyx drifted forward, their shadowy fingers trailing through a cluster of bioluminescent mushrooms. The fungi dimmed where they touched, then flared brighter when they withdrew. "The boundary's thin here. Can you feel it?" Aurora could. The pendant's warmth spread through her chest as they approached a ring of mushrooms—perfectly spaced, too symmetrical to be natural. The air above them warped like heat haze over pavement. She unsheathed the Fae-forged dagger at her belt; the moonsilver blade glowed faintly blue in the gathering dark. Isolde tilted her head, listening to whispers only she could hear. "Dymas lies beyond. A place of feasts and hungers." She plucked a single silver leaf from her hair and let it fall. It hovered midair over the mushroom ring, spinning slowly. "The path will open when the leaf touches ground." The waiting stretched. Aurora's breath fogged in the suddenly chill air. Nyx coalesced beside her, their whisper-voice barely audible: "Something's watching from the other side." Then—a sound like glass shattering in reverse. The leaf vanished mid-spin. The mushroom ring flared emerald-green, and the warped air solidified into an archway of twisted vines. Beyond it stretched a twilight landscape bathed in amber light, where trees bore fruits that glistened like candied jewels. Aurora's stomach growled despite herself. The scents wafting through the arch—roasting meats, spiced wine, caramelized sugar—made her mouth water. "Gluttony's realm," Isolde said, her voice gone distant. "Tread lightly. Even the air here conspires to make you crave." Nyx flowed through the arch first, their form blurring at the edges as they crossed between worlds. Aurora followed, the dagger's hilt cold in her sweating palm. The moment she stepped through, the pendant flared hot enough to burn. She gasped, clutching at it—then froze. The sky wasn't sky at all, but a vast, swirling canopy of golden fireflies moving in synchronized patterns. Their light reflected off obsidian-black streams that cut through fields of wheat taller than houses. In the distance, a banquet table stretched as far as she could see, laden with dishes that steamed despite the lack of visible heat sources. "Don't." Nyx caught her wrist as she reached unconsciously toward a nearby bush heavy with plump, violet berries. Their grip was cool and strangely weightless. "Everything here is hungry in its own way." Aurora shook herself. The craving dulled slightly, though her mouth still watered. "Right. Portal's behind us, but which way—" A sound cut her off: wet, rhythmic chewing. From the wheat field emerged a figure—humanoid but wrong, its limbs too long, its mouth stretching ear to ear. It gnawed on what looked like a roasted leg of lamb, juices dripping down its chin to sizzle where they hit the ground. Isolde went very still. "One of Belphegor's tasters. They sample every dish in the realm, endlessly." The creature's bulbous eyes locked onto them. It dropped its meal and loped forward, sniffing loudly. Nyx stepped in front, shadows swirling around them like a cloak. The taster recoiled with a hiss, then turned its gaze to Aurora—specifically, to the pendant at her throat. It grinned, revealing rows of needle teeth. "Fresh meat," it rasped, then let out a shrill whistle that echoed across the amber-lit plains. "Run," Nyx said, already dissolving into smoke. Aurora didn't need telling twice. She sprinted after Isolde toward the obsidian stream, the wheat whipping at her arms. Behind them, answering whistles rose from every direction. The pendant burned hotter with each step, its crimson glow painting the ground beneath her feet. Isolde reached the stream first and turned, her silver hair lifting in a nonexistent wind. "The water's a mirror—step where I step!" She walked onto the black surface without breaking stride, her bare feet leaving momentary ripples that froze solid behind her. Aurora hesitated—then followed, bracing for the icy plunge. Instead, the stream held her weight like tempered glass. Nyx flowed beside her, their form barely holding together. "They won't cross running water," they whispered. "Even here, some old rules hold." Glancing back, Aurora saw the tasters gathered at the shore, their elongated fingers twitching. One reached out—only to yelp as its fingertips blackened and curled like burned paper. Isolde was already halfway across, her silhouette wavering in the strange light. "The palace lies beyond the salt flats," she called, her voice carrying oddly over the frozen stream. "Where the hungriest things are kept... and fed." Aurora adjusted her grip on the Fae blade. The dagger's glow had deepened to an urgent violet. Somewhere ahead, another archway shimmered into view—this one framed by bones woven through with grapevines. The scent of wine and decay rolled over them in a nauseating wave. Nyx solidified just long enough to meet Aurora's eyes. Their violet gaze was grim. "Whatever happens next," they whispered, "don't taste anything. Not even a drop." The Heartstone pulsed once, hard, as the three of them stepped toward the bone archway—and whatever waited beyond.