Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMR087JSA8A4EQ1BN93Y1PA

The world folded in on itself, and Aurora felt her stomach lurch as though she'd stepped off a ledge in a dream. Then the air changed. Warmer. Heavier. Thick with the scent of something impossibly sweet—ripe peaches and honey and woodsmoke all tangled together in a way that made her mouth water against her will. She opened her eyes. The sky above them burned amber, a permanent golden hour that cast everything in soft, forgiving light. No sun hung visible—just that diffuse warmth radiating from somewhere beyond the horizon, as if the color itself carried heat. Aurora's hand drifted to her chest without thinking, her fingers finding the Heartstone pendant beneath her shirt. The gem pulsed against her palm, steady and warm, warmer than it had been in London. "Interesting." Nyx's whisper of a voice slid through the stillness. They had solidified the moment they passed through, their shadowy form taking on edges and definition that seemed almost human in this light. Their violet eyes swept the landscape with something that might have been recognition. "I have not walked these paths in centuries." Aurora took a step forward, her boots crunching on grass that was too green, too vibrant, each blade seeming to shimmer at its edges. Before them stretched an expanse of rolling hills dotted with orchards heavy with fruit she couldn't name—globes of deep purple hanging from silver-barked trees, something that looked like a cross between a pomegranate and a rose blooming on twisted vines that climbed toward nowhere. "This is Dymas." She didn't phrase it as a question. The pendant's warmth had told her that much. "One of the seven realms of Hel, yes." Nyx drifted beside her, their feet leaving no impression in the grass. "The domain of Gluttony. Though the poets rarely capture its true nature." "Which is?" "Excess wears many faces. Not all of them monstrous." Aurora moved deeper into the orchard, her hand brushing against a low-hanging fruit. The skin was smooth as glass, and when she pulled her fingers away, they left faint smudges of gold on the surface. The tree shuddered overhead, a sound like a contented sigh rustling through leaves that were darker than any natural green. She thought of Isolde's parting words, delivered in that silver-light voice that always made Aurora feel as though she were hearing half a conversation: *The hunger that feeds the soul is not the hunger that empties it. Remember which you carry.* Typical. Half instructions, half riddle, completely unhelpful. They walked for what might have been minutes or hours. Time moved strangely here—she could feel it in the way her thoughts seemed to stretch and compress, the amber light never shifting even as they covered ground that should have taken much longer. The Fae blade at her hip stayed cold against her thigh, a small mercy. Whatever lived in this place, it wasn't triggering the weapon's defensive properties. Not yet. The orchard gave way to a vineyard that sprawled across a shallow valley. Grapes the color of garnets grew in thick clusters, each one large as her thumb, and between the rows, she spotted figures moving with slow, deliberate grace. They looked human at first glance—men and women in simple clothes, harvesting fruit into woven baskets—but something was wrong with their movements. Too fluid. Too coordinated. As though they were all extensions of a single will. "Helbound," Nyx murmured. "Souls contracted to the realm. They serve out their terms in the fields and kitchens." "Servants?" "Chefs. Vintners. The artisans of indulgence." Nyx's form flickered, shadows rippling across their features. "Belphegor's court prizes culinary excellence above all things. These are the condemned who once pursued perfection in excess—and now they pursue it for eternity." One of the figures looked up, and Aurora caught a flash of eyes that held no whites—just darkness, deep and absolute, like staring into a well at midnight. The figure returned to their work without acknowledgment. Aurora exhaled slowly. "So the stories about demons tearing souls apart..." "Stories." Nyx's tone carried something that might have been amusement. "Humans always imagine punishment as fire and chains. But punishment can be a gilded cage. A beautiful prison. Ask yourself which would be harder to escape." She didn't answer. She wasn't sure she wanted to. The path wound upward, and they followed it, the amber light taking on a rosier hue as they climbed. Aurora's legs burned with the effort—her body still anchored to mortal physics, still subject to gravity and fatigue. Nyx moved like smoke, their form occasionally bleeding into the shadows cast by the strange trees, reappearing meters ahead without seeming to traverse the distance. Near the crest of the hill, Aurora paused. Her hand had found the pendant again, and this time the pulse was stronger—a rhythmic thrum against her sternum that matched her heartbeat but faster, more urgent. "What is it?" Nyx materialized at her shoulder. "Something's... different. The stone." She pulled the chain over her head, holding the crimson gem up to the amber light. It glowed from within, a soft pulse that reminded her of a heartbeat. "It's never done this before." "Proximity." Nyx's violet eyes fixed on something beyond her, something down the far side of the hill. "The pendant was forged in this realm. It responds to the old places. The places where the contracts are sealed." Aurora followed their gaze. The valley below held a structure that made her breath catch. It was a palace, but the word felt too small. Pavilions of pale stone stretched across the landscape, connected by covered walkways and surrounded by gardens that seemed to shift and rearrange themselves as she watched. Fountains sent arcs of liquid gold into the air, and the sound that drifted upward wasn't water—it was music, a thousand delicate notes played in harmony. At the center of it all, a great hall rose against the amber sky, its domed roof painted with scenes of feasts and festivals, figures frozen in eternal celebration. "The Court of Dymas." Nyx's voice had gone quiet, careful. "Prince Belphegor's seat of power." Aurora tucked the pendant back beneath her shirt, the gem's warmth a constant pressure against her skin now. She thought of Evan, of the night she'd finally run—the way he'd smiled when he told her she'd never escape him, that he'd find her no matter where she went. She thought of London's grey skies and the smell of rain on pavement, Silas's bar below her flat, the weight of the Fae blade against her hip. She thought of how badly she wanted to turn around. Instead, she took another step forward. "The pendant was given to me for a reason," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Someone wanted me to come here. To find something." "Or to be found." Nyx's form shifted, shadows consolidating into something more solid beside her. "The difference matters, Aurora Carter. In Hel, intention shapes reality. If you walk in expecting a trap, the halls will rearrange themselves to provide one." She looked at the Shade—really looked, for the first time since they'd arrived. Their violet eyes held something almost like concern, though she wasn't certain a being like Nyx could feel such a thing. "Then what do you suggest I expect?" Nyx was silent for a long moment. When they spoke, their voice carried an unfamiliar weight. "Expect nothing. Anticipate everything. And remember—" they gestured toward the palace below, its music drifting up like a promise, "—the most dangerous prisons are the ones that do not feel like prisons at all." The wind shifted, carrying scents that made Aurora's head swim—fresh bread and roasting meat, wine aged beyond human lifespans, spices she had no names for. Her stomach clenched with sudden, fierce hunger, though she'd eaten before they left London. She understood, then, what Isolde had meant. *The hunger that feeds the soul is not the hunger that empties it.* Gluttony wasn't just about food. It was about wanting. It was about the void inside that could never be filled, the hunger that consumed from within. The realm would offer her everything she'd ever desired—and each offering would be another chain. Aurora set her shoulders and began the descent into the valley. Behind her, Nyx followed, a living shadow against the amber sky.