Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPCEAFQGZYRJPQA8GH3HYQ

In the hush of a London dawn, Rory Carter, her breath misting in the chill, led the way through Richmond Park. The others followed—Nyx, the Shade, their form a flickering shadow at her back, and Isolde, the Half-Fae, her silver hair catching the first light like a comet's tail. They were bound for the Fae Grove, a place Rory had heard whispers of but never seen. The park was quiet, the world still yawning awake. Their footsteps crunched on frost-kissed leaves, the only sound save for the distant call of a lone bird. Rory's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of anticipation and unease. She clutched the Heartstone Pendant at her throat, feeling its faint pulse against her skin. As they walked, the trees began to change. Their leaves turned a deeper green, almost iridescent, and wildflowers bloomed at their feet, defying the season. The air grew heavy with magic, prickling against Rory's skin like static. She glanced at Isolde, who walked with an otherworldly grace, her eyes distant, as if she were already elsewhere. Nyx, ever watchful, moved between them, their form shifting like smoke. "We're close," they whispered, their voice carried on the wind. "I can feel it. The Veil is thin here." Rory nodded, her gaze fixed ahead. She could see them now—the ancient oak standing stones, their bark etched with runes that seemed to dance in the light. Beyond them, the air shimmered, like heat haze on a summer's day. The boundary of the Fae Grove. Isolde stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper. "Three steps, and we shall cross." She took one, then another, her footfalls silent. On the third, she vanished, swallowed by the shimmer. Rory took a deep breath, her hand going to the Fae-Forged Blade at her side. She could feel Nyx's presence behind her, solid and reassuring. Then, with a quick glance back at the world they knew, she stepped through. The change was immediate. The air was warmer, heavier, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and distant rain. The sky above was not the pale blue of an English morning but a warm amber, like honey. Dymas, Rory thought, her heart quickening. We've crossed into Hel. Nyx stepped through behind her, their form solidifying. "We're in Dymas," they said, their voice echoing slightly. "Gluttony. Be on your guard." Rory nodded, her eyes scanning the landscape. They stood in a grove of trees laden with fruit, their branches heavy with the weight. Beyond, she could see sprawling vineyards, their vines thick with grapes, and in the distance, the spires of a grand palace, its towers reaching for the sky. Isolde waited for them, her eyes closed, her face upturned. "It's been so long," she murmured. "I had forgotten the feel of it. The taste of it." She opened her eyes, her gaze meeting Rory's. "We are not alone, child. The prince knows we are here." Rory's hand tightened on the blade at her side. "Belphegor," she said, her voice steady despite the fear coiling in her gut. "What does he want?" Isolde smiled, a small, sad curve of her lips. "He wants what all princes want, child. Power. Knowledge. Control." She turned, her gaze fixed on the palace. "But we are not here for him. We are here for the truth." They moved deeper into the grove, the trees parting before them like a living thing. Rory could feel the magic here, thick and heavy, pressing against her skin. She could hear laughter in the distance, the clink of glasses, the hum of voices. A feast, she thought. They're having a feast. As they approached, the laughter grew louder, the voices more raucous. They came to a clearing, a grand table laid out before them, laden with food. Souls, Rory realized, her stomach turning. They're using souls to cook. Nyx stepped closer, their form flickering. "We should not be here," they said, their voice low. "This is not our fight." Rory looked at them, then at Isolde, who stood watching, her expression unreadable. "We're here for the truth," she said, her voice steady. "And we're not leaving until we have it." Isolde nodded, her gaze meeting Rory's. "Well spoken, child." She turned, her voice rising, carrying over the laughter and the noise. "Belphegor! We seek an audience!" The laughter stopped. The noise faded. The souls at the table turned, their eyes wide, their faces pale. Then, from the palace, a figure emerged, tall and imposing, his eyes burning like embers. Belphegor. He walked towards them, his steps slow, measured. His gaze fixed on Rory, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Aurora Carter," he said, his voice like thunder. "I have been expecting you." Rory stood her ground, her hand tight on the blade at her side. "I'm here for the truth," she said, her voice steady. "I want to know why you're after me. Why you sent Evan. Why you gave me the Heartstone." Belphegor laughed, a sound like distant thunder. "Always so many questions, little mortal." He stepped closer, his gaze fixed on her. "Very well. I will give you your answers. But in return, you must give me something." Rory's heart pounded in her chest. She could feel Nyx behind her, solid and reassuring. She could feel Isolde, her presence like a beacon. She took a deep breath, her gaze meeting Belphegor's. "What do you want?" she asked. Belphegor smiled, his eyes burning. "A favor, Aurora Carter. When the time comes, you will owe me a favor." Rory hesitated, her gaze flicking to Nyx, to Isolde. Then, she nodded. "Alright," she said. "I'll make you a deal, Belphegor. You tell me the truth, and I'll owe you a favor. But if you lie, if you mislead me, the debt is null and void." Belphegor laughed, a sound like distant thunder. "Agreed," he said, his gaze fixed on her. "You are a bold one, Aurora Carter. I like that." He turned, his gaze fixed on the palace. "Come," he said. "Let us talk. Let us make our deal." As they followed him, Rory could feel the magic here, thick and heavy, pressing against her skin. She could hear the laughter, the clink of glasses, the hum of voices. But she kept her gaze fixed ahead, her hand tight on the blade at her side. She was here for the truth, and she would not leave until she had it. No matter the cost.