Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMQM8HETA3ENCA177ASZT8X

The air on the other side of the rift tasted of caramelized sugar and ozone, a cloying sweetness that coated the back of Aurora Carter’s throat the moment she inhaled. She stumbled, her boots sinking into ground that felt less like soil and more like damp, velvet sponge. "Steady," a voice whispered, sounding like dry leaves skittering across pavement. Aurora righted herself, instinctively reaching for the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist, a grounding habit she’d carried since childhood. She looked up and forgot to breathe. The sky above them wasn’t the bruised grey of a London winter, nor the pitch black of the void they had just traversed. It was a suffocating, radiant amber, thick and heavy as honey, casting the world below in a warm, eternal golden hour. "Tell me I’m hallucinating," Aurora said, her voice tight. "Tell me this is just a gas leak at the restaurant and I’m passed out in the kitchen." "The air is too rich for hallucinations," Isolde Varga replied. The Half-Fae stepped through the shimmering distortion of the Veil behind them, the rift snapping shut with a sound like a cracking whip. Isolde looked sickeningly at home here; the amber light caught the metallic sheen of her waist-length silver hair, making her glow. As she moved to stand beside Aurora, her feet pressed into the lush, violet moss, yet when she lifted them, the vegetation sprang back instantly, leaving no footprint. "We have walked beyond the boundaries of the mortal map, Aurora. This is Dymas." Aurora scanned the horizon. "Dymas. Gluttony." "The realm of Prince Belphegor," Nyx added. The Shade stood a few feet away, their form a jagged silhouette against the golden backdrop. They seemed uncomfortable, their edges blurring and sharpening in a nervous rhythm. "It is… bright. Too bright. The shadows here are thin. They have no depth." Aurora looked down at her chest. The Heartstone Pendant, the crimson artifact roughly the size of her thumbnail, was pulsing against her collarbone. Its faint inner glow beat in time with a heat that seeped through her shirt. It was reacting to the residual energy of the portal, a frantic rhythm that slowed as the rift behind them faded into nothingness. "Okay," Aurora said, forcing her analytical mind to take the wheel. She adjusted her jacket, trying to summon the cool-headedness she’d relied on back in her Pre-Law days, before life and survival had derailed her plans. "We’re in. The Veil is sealed behind us. We need to find the anchor point to get back, but first, we need to move. Standing still in a place called 'Gluttony' feels like a bad tactical decision." The group moved forward, pushing into a sprawling orchard that defied logic. The trees were colossi, their twisted, dark-wood trunks as wide as houses, their branches groaning under the weight of fruit that looked like polished gems. Pears the size of human heads hung low, their skins translucent and shimmering with ruby juice. Vines thick as pythons wrapped around the boughs, dripping a nectar that pooled on the ground in sticky, golden puddles. It was beautiful, and it was repulsive. "Don't touch anything," Aurora commanded, taking the lead. Her straight black hair fell forward as she inspected a low-hanging cluster of berries that looked suspiciously like sapphires. "And definitely don't eat anything." "A difficult request," Isolde murmured, drifting alongside a massive, drooping flower that smelled of roast venison and lavender. "The very air is designed to hollow you out, to create a hunger where there was none. Do you feel it?" Aurora did. It was a subtle gnawing in her stomach, a dryness in her mouth that water wouldn’t cure. She ignored it, focusing on the path ahead. "I deliver takeout for a living, Isolde. I’ve spent three years smelling Yu-Fei’s roasted duck while biking through rainstorms on an empty stomach. I can handle being hungry." "This is not hunger of the belly," Nyx whispered, their voice carried on a phantom wind. They glided over a root system that pulsed with a faint, arterial red light. "It is the hunger of the soul. It wants to fill you until you burst." They walked for what felt like an hour, though the amber sky refused to change, offering no clue to the passage of time. The silence of the orchard was heavy, broken only by the wet sound of overripe fruit falling from high branches and bursting against the forest floor. The deeper they went, the more cultivated the landscape became. The wild tangles of vines gave way to manicured rows of crops that had no earthly name—stalks of wheat that chimed like crystal in the breeze, melons that thrummed with a low, bass-heavy vibration. Aurora stopped abruptly. The path ahead opened into a clearing dominated by a long, marble banquet table, grown over with moss and creeping ivy. It was empty of food, but the plates were set—gold and porcelain, waiting. "Something is wrong," Aurora said, her hand dropping to her belt. Her fingers brushed the hilt of the Fae-Forged Blade. The weapon, a gift from Isolde, was always cold to the touch, a biting chill that cut through the humid warmth of Dymas. "We are watched," Nyx hissed. The Shade dissolved into a pool of darkness, sliding flat along the ground to scout the perimeter. "Not watched," Isolde corrected, her pale lavender eyes narrowing as she scanned the tree line. "Coveted." A tremor ran through the ground, vibrating up through the soles of Aurora’s boots. From the treeline, the sweet, cloying smell intensified until it was choking. "Movement," Aurora snapped, drawing the dagger. The moonsilver blade flared with a pale, ghostly luminescence, cutting a stark white line through the amber gloom. "Three o'clock." The underbrush parted, but it wasn’t a soldier or a demon that emerged. It was the vegetation itself. A vine, thick and muscular, uncoiled from the canopy with the speed of a striking cobra. It lashed out not to strike, but to wrap. Aurora pivoted, her breath hissing through her teeth. She swiped the dagger in a tight arc. The moonsilver severed the vine instantly, slicing through the magical flora as if it were smoke. The severed end shrieked—a high, human sound—and sprayed a violet sap that hissed where it hit the grass. "It’s an ambush," Aurora yelled, backing toward the stone table. "The garden is the guard dog." More vines descended, dropping from the amber haze above like hangman’s nooses. "Nyx!" Aurora called out. The shadow on the ground surged upward. Nyx solidified into a humanoid form directly beneath a descending cluster of thorns. They raised a hand, and the shadows beneath the trees elongated, spearing upward like obsidian spikes. The darkness collided with the vines, tangling them in a net of intangible force. "The magic here is thick," Nyx’s voice grated, their violet eyes flaring. "It fights me. It wants to consume the shadow." "Isolde, can you calm it down?" Aurora shouted, ducking under a lashing branch. She slashed again, severing a tendril that tried to snare her ankle. "I cannot command what I do not own," Isolde said calmly. She stood perfectly still amidst the chaos. A vine whipped toward her face, but inches before impact, it curled away, repelled by the sheer ancient nature of her Fae blood. "But I can see the root." Isolde pointed a slender finger toward the center of the clearing, beneath the stone table. "The soil is hungry because it is being fed. The heart of this grove lies there." Aurora didn't hesitate. "Cover me." She sprinted toward the table, the humid air dragging at her lungs like water. A wall of briars erupted from the earth in her path. She didn't slow down. She drove the Fae-Forged Blade forward, the moonsilver glowing brighter as it sensed the hostile magic. The briars withered at the blade’s touch, turning to grey ash that crumbled as she crashed through. She slid beneath the marble table. There, pulsing in the dirt, was a bulbous, fleshy node, beating like a exposed heart. It was connected to the root system of every tree in the clearing. Aurora raised the dagger. For a second, a wave of dizziness hit her—a sudden, overwhelming desire to drop the knife, to sit at the table, to eat, to rest, to let the vines hold her. The scent of her mother's Welsh cakes filled her nose, a memory weaponized against her. *It’s not real,* she thought, gripping the cold handle of the blade until her knuckles turned white. *It’s just a craving.* She plunged the dagger into the pulsing node. A scream tore through the clearing, vibrating in Aurora’s teeth. The amber light overhead flickered violently. The vines went rigid, then slack, dropping to the ground like cut ropes. The oppressive sweetness in the air turned instantly to the scent of rotting vegetation. Aurora scrambled out from under the table, gasping for air. She wiped a smear of violet sap from her cheek. Nyx reformed near her, their silhouette trembling slightly. "That was… unpleasant." Isolde walked to the table, looking at the withered vines with a detached curiosity. "You struck true, Aurora. But you must understand—that was merely a weed in this garden. If we are to cross Dymas to find what we seek, the hunger will only grow stronger." Aurora sheathed the dagger, the cold metal soothing the heat in her palm. She looked at the bruised, endless amber sky, feeling small but sharp. " Let it try," Aurora said, adjusting her jacket. "I'm not on the menu."