Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMQSFBF7F528GF7SYWADARQ

The air inside the grove did not smell like Richmond Park. Outside the ancient oak standing stones that marked the boundary, the London winter bit with a damp, grey chill, carrying the scent of wet dog and exhaust fumes. Here, the air was thick and sweet, heavy with the perfume of blooming jasmine and something sharper, like ozone before a storm. Aurora Carter paused just past the threshold, her breath catching in her throat. She adjusted the strap of her delivery bag, though she hadn't brought any food this time, and looked down at her hands. They were trembling, just slightly. "Stay close," she murmured, more to herself than to the others. Her voice sounded wrong here, too solid, too human against the humming silence of the place. To her left, Nyx shifted. The Shade did not walk so much as flow, a humanoid silhouette of living shadow detaching itself from the deeper dark beneath the trees. At six-foot-two, they towered over Aurora, their form rippling like smoke caught in a draft. Where a face should have been, two points of faintly glowing violet light watched the surroundings with an ageless, unreadable intensity. "The boundary is thin here," Nyx whispered, their voice sounding like wind rushing through dry leaves. "Thinner than the Veil in the city. I can taste the magic on my tongue. It tastes like copper and old blood." Aurora ignored the prickling unease that crawled up her spine at Nyx's words. She forced her cool-headed mask into place, the one she wore when dealing with angry customers or navigating London traffic. She needed to focus. They were here for Isolde. "Can you sense her?" Aurora asked, scanning the tree line. The grove was a contradiction of seasons. While the world outside shed its leaves and curled into dormancy, the flora here erupted in a chaotic, vibrant explosion of life. Wildflowers bloomed year-round, a kaleidoscope of blues, purples, and golds that seemed to glow from within. Vines heavy with unfamiliar fruit draped across branches that twisted in impossible geometries, reaching toward a sky that wasn't quite the grey London overcast, but a soft, pearlescent twilight. "I sense many things," Nyx replied, drifting forward. Their feet, when they occasionally solidified to touch the mossy ground, left no impression. "Time is... fluid. An hour here could be a minute out there. Or a decade. Be careful where you step, Rory. The ground remembers." Aurora touched the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist, a habitual gesture when she felt out of her depth. It was a reminder of a childhood accident, a mundane injury in a world that suddenly felt anything but. She took a step forward, her boots sinking into moss that felt unnervingly warm, like living flesh. As they moved deeper, the sounds of the city vanished completely. There was no distant hum of traffic, no sirens, no planes. Instead, the air vibrated with a low, melodic thrumming, as if the trees themselves were singing. Birds with feathers of iridescent silver darted between the branches, their calls sounding like tinkling glass. "Do you see that?" Aurora stopped, pointing toward a cluster of standing stones further ahead. They were not like the oaks at the entrance. These were slender, white pillars that seemed to grow directly out of the earth, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic light. Nyx drifted closer, their shadowy form stretching and contracting. "Fae architecture. Or perhaps Fae biology. It is difficult to tell the difference in this realm." A figure emerged from behind the white pillars, stepping into the clearing with a grace that made Aurora feel clumsy by comparison. Isolde Varga moved without sound. Her silver hair, reaching all the way to her waist, floated around her as if she were underwater. She wore robes of woven leaves and starlight, and her pale lavender eyes locked onto Aurora with an intensity that felt physical. Isolde left no footprints. Aurora watched the hem of the Seer's robes brush against the tall grass, yet the blades did not bend, and the moss did not compress. It was a small detail, but it made Aurora's stomach turn. "You have brought the shadow with you," Isolde said. Her voice was melodic, layered with an echo that suggested she was speaking from two places at once. "And the girl who carries the stone of Gluttony." Aurora's hand flew to her chest, instinctively covering the Heartstone pendant beneath her jacket. The deep crimson gemstone, roughly the size of her thumbnail, had begun to pulse with a faint warmth the moment they crossed the threshold. It was a warning, or perhaps a greeting. "We needed answers," Aurora said, keeping her voice steady despite the urge to back away. "The Wardens say the Veil is weakening. The rifts are opening faster than they can seal them. We thought you might know why." Isolde tilted her head, a bird-like motion. "The Veil breathes, child. It expands and contracts with the turning of the sun. The solstice approaches. The barrier thins, as it must, to let the old magic bleed through. But you seek a specific tear. A wound, not a breath." "Can you show us?" Nyx asked, the violet glow of their eyes narrowing. "My senses are clouded by the density of this place. The shadows here are too bright." Isolde smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "I cannot lie to you, little shade. The compulsion of my blood forbids it. But I can choose which truths to speak." She raised a slender hand, pointing toward the center of the grove where the air seemed to shimmer like heat haze off asphalt. "There. The boundary is stretched thin as spider silk. Something pushes from the other side. Something hungry." Aurora stepped toward the shimmering distortion. As she approached, the air grew colder, a stark contrast to the warmth of the flowers. The Hairstone pendant against her chest grew hot, nearly burning her skin through her shirt. She flinched but didn't stop. "What is it?" she asked. "A door left ajar," Isolde said softly. "Prince Belphegor grows restless in Dymas. The feasts there are no longer enough. He seeks new flavors. New souls to contract." Aurora remembered the descriptions of Dymas she had heard in hushed tones at Silas' bar—a realm of excess, of sprawling vineyards and grand feasts where helbound souls cooked for eternity. The thought made her nauseous. "How do we close it?" Aurora asked, her mind already racing through possibilities, looking for the out-of-the-box solution that had kept her alive this long. Isolde's expression softened, just a fraction. "You cannot close a door with force, Aurora Carter. You must convince the one on the other side to shut it. Or you must offer a trade." She gestured to the dagger at Aurora's hip. Aurora glanced down. The Fae-forged blade, a gift from Isolde herself during their last meeting, hung in its sheath. The moonsilver hilt was always cold to the touch, a grounding weight against her thigh. In the dim light of the grove, the leaf-shaped blade seemed to glow with its own faint luminescence. "A trade?" Nyx whispered, the wind-like voice dropping an octave. "What does a prince of Gluttony desire that we possess?" Isolde's lavender eyes flickered to Aurora, then to the pulsing red light emanating from beneath her jacket. "That is a riddle you must solve before the solstice breaks the thread entirely. Time here is a trickster. You may have hours, or you may have seconds." Suddenly, the shimmering distortion in the air rippled violently. A sound tore through the grove, not a bird call or a whisper, but a roar that sounded like tearing metal and screaming voices. The wildflowers nearest the rift wilted instantly, turning brown and crumbling to dust. "The barrier is failing," Isolde said, her voice losing its melodic lilt, becoming urgent. "The scent of your world, of your fear and your hunger, draws them like moths to a flame." Aurora grabbed the hilt of the moonsilver dagger. The cold bit into her palm, sharpening her focus. She looked at Nyx, whose shadow form was expanding, spikes of darkness protruding from their shoulders in a defensive posture. "Plan?" Nyx asked. Aurora took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the strange, sweet air of the Fae Grove. She thought of her flat above Silas' bar, of the delivery routes she knew by heart, of the life she had built after fleeing Evan. She wasn't a warrior. She was a delivery girl from Cardiff who studied law before running away. But she was here, and she was the one with the plan. "We don't fight," Aurora said, her bright blue eyes hardening. "Isolde said Belphegor wants a trade. So we give him something else to eat. Something that isn't a soul." She pulled the Heartstone pendant from under her jacket. The crimson gem was blazing now, casting a bloody light across the clearing. "Nyx," she commanded, her voice cutting through the rising roar of the rift. "Can you mask the scent of the stone? Make it smell like... I don't know, like a feast? Like the richest thing in Dymas?" Nyx hesitated, the violet eyes widening. "I can twist the shadows to hide many things. But to mimic the essence of a Hel-realm artifact? That is dangerous." "Do it," Aurora said. "And Isolde, keep talking. Keep them distracted with riddles. Buy me ten seconds." Isolde nodded once, stepping forward to face the tearing sky, her silver hair whipping around her as she began to chant in a language that sounded like running water. Aurora tightened her grip on the cold dagger and stepped toward the rift, the alien world swirling around her, wondering if this was the moment her luck finally ran out.