Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMR1NRVBX7W6HNE9JS1X51K

Aurora felt the pendant’s faint warmth against her chest as they stepped beneath towering oaks crowned with thick moss, their gnarled limbs arching overhead like ancient arches. The air shifted as they crossed through the standing stones, a subtle hum settling over the group like a whispered spell. Isolde moved ahead with ethereal grace, her silver hair catching stray beams of sunlight that somehow filtered dimly through the dense foliage. Around her, wildflowers glowed with unreal colors — soft blues and iridescent purples — blooming thick on the forest floor despite the season. The beauty was almost too perfect, unsettling in its stillness. “Time folds here,” Isolde murmured, voice low, weaving the riddles that made her speech both enigmatic and strangely comforting. “An hour within may span a day without. Or perhaps a minute—time is a creature that hunts its own shadow.” Nyx hovered at the edge of the circle of light, their vague, shifting silhouette melding with the shadows that pooled beneath the heavy boughs. Their glowing violet eyes barely visible, scanning the surroundings with a gaze that seemed to pierce through the Veil itself. A breeze stirred, but it carried no scent of earth or leaf—something else lingered, a faint trace of smoke and spice. Aurora clenched her fists, the crescent scar on her left wrist brushing against the coarse fabric of her sleeve. The familiar weight of the Fae-Forged Blade against her hip reassured her—a cold, steady presence in a place that felt too fluid, too surreal. They had entered the Fae Grove. The world inside twisted with a slow elegance. The very air shimmered with latent magic; dust motes sparkled like tiny stars suspended in golden mist. Trees bore fruit in impossible shapes—twisting spirals of crystal and petals that shimmered like stained glass. Their footsteps sank into a soft moss that was warmer than it should be, cushioning their path like a living carpet. Isolde glanced back once, eyes pale lavender glinting. “Few mortals come here, and those who do rarely leave the same.” Nyx’s voice, barely audible but unmistakable, floated through the stillness. “The Threshold is open, but beware the scent of dreams. Not all that glows welcomes the eyes that wander.” Rory swallowed. She hated being the cautious one in the group, but her instincts flared like red warning lights. The Grove was beautiful, yes—too beautiful. It pulled at the edges of her mind, whispers threading through her thoughts, promising secrets and dangers in the same breath. Ahead, a small clearing unfolded, ringed by ancient oaks rimmed in mystical blue lichen. The ground was bare here, save for dozens of tiny sparkling footprints — impossibly precise, like those left by a creature walking on air. Isolde knelt, tracing a finger through the air. The footprints vanished like smoke, the ground returning to pristine untouched earth. “Fae footprints,” she said. “Invisible to the world’s eyes, except in glimpses here.” Aurora’s gaze flicked to the shadows. They seemed to shift unnaturally, as if watching them with quiet hunger. “Why bring us here?” Rory finally asked, voice sharp against the silence. “What do you want us to see?” Isolde smiled, but it was almost sad. “The choice lies not with me, but with the Grove itself. Your paths entwine with the Fae realms more tightly than you realize.” Nyx stepped forward, form solidifying just enough to become more human-shaped—a tall figure cloaked in living shadow, those violet eyes glowing softly. They gestured with a long finger toward a low stone altar covered in curling runes carved deep into smooth granite. “The Veil here is thin, cracked—there lies the way.” Aurora approached, heart hammering. She knelt to touch the carvings; the stone was warm beneath her palm and thrummed with a pulse that matched the pendant at her throat. The symbols pulsed faintly with residual magic, as if offering a silent invitation. Without warning, the air rippled. The world blurred and twisted; the distant trees stretched and warped as if caught in a reflection cracking beneath the surface of a pond. Rory’s stomach clenched with dizziness, breath catching in her throat. When the shimmering settled, the clearing had changed. The sky above was a warm amber, dripping through the leaves like spilled honey. The air smelled of rich earth, ripe fruit, and something darker—overripe sweetness. Before them stretched an endless vineyard shimmering beneath that strange amber sky. “This is Dymas,” Nyx whispered, voice cold as the shadows that still clung to their form. Aurora’s eyes widened, heart pounding faster. This was Hel—gluttony’s realm. She had heard the stories of the sprawling orchards and grand feasts ruled by Prince Belphegor, but nothing prepared her for the sheer magnitude of it. The trees—fruit-laden boughs heavy with forbidden delicacies—glistened. Exotic blossoms twisted into intoxicating shapes, and reptiles with iridescent scales flicked through the undergrowth like living jewels. Something glimmered from the ground near the vineyard’s edge—a silver chain glinting faintly in the amber light. Aurora’s breath hitched. She rushed forward, fingers closing around the Heartstone Pendant nestled in the moss. The pendant pulsed warmly, faint crimson light spilling like a heartbeat into the world around it. “Why is this here?” Aurora murmured. Nyx’s silhouette blurred once more, shifting between shapes before settling into a featureless shadow form. “Lost things find lost places.” Isolde, who had been watching silently, suddenly grew serious. “Dymas is a realm of hunger—not just for food, but for desire and debt. The Veil cracks because souls long to cross. This pendant is a beacon… a lure to what dwells beyond.” A rustling nearby made them all turn sharply. From the shadows emerged a figure cloaked in rich autumn leaves, crown woven from thorn and blossom. Their eyes burned with a fierce hunger, pale lavender flames flickering beneath sharp brows. “Why do you trespass?” the figure demanded, voice echoing like a song sung through glass. Isolde bowed her head, stepping forward. “We seek knowledge.” The figure’s lips curved into a smile that did not reach their eyes. “Knowledge comes at a price.” Aurora’s fingers tightened around the Fae-Forged Blade, its cold blade barely visible beneath her coat. The warning from Nyx echoed again in her mind—some doors once opened demand debts paid in full. The vineyard around them seemed to lean closer, the fruits glowing with a dangerous allure. The warm amber sky pulsed as if alive, and the thick air pressed down with the weight of unseen watchers. Rory met Nyx’s glowing gaze, then Isolde’s steady, unreadable one. In this ancient place where realms bled into one another, where time itself twisted and folded, choices were never simple. And the true test was only beginning.