Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMR784KQ8GJWXN6CC73C2Z7

The ancient oak swallowed them whole. One moment, Aurora stood in the dappled sunlight of Richmond Park, the scent of damp earth and late summer roses thick in the air. The next, a crushing silence descended, and the world outside dissolved. They stood at the edge of a clearing that seemed to breathe with a life of its own. Nyx, ever the first to adapt, let out a soft hiss that was more breath than sound. Their shadowy form rippled, coalescing slightly as if solidifying against an unseen pressure. Aurora felt a faint tremor underfoot, and the air grew cold, carrying the alien perfume of flowers that had no earthly name. "It… it feels different," Eva whispered, her voice tight. She clutched Aurora’s arm, her knuckles white. Her eyes, wide with trepidation, darted around the grove. Aurora’s own gaze swept across the impossible landscape. Wildflowers, impossibly vibrant, carpeted the ground, their petals unfurling in hues of sapphire, emerald, and amethyst. They bloomed with a defiance of season, their sweetness clashing with the chill that had settled into Aurora’s bones. Towering trees, their bark like polished obsidian, twisted towards a sky that was not the familiar blue of London but a swirling tapestry of twilight and starlight. The light here seemed to emanate from the very flora, casting long, dancing shadows that played tricks on the eye. “It’s beautiful,” Aurora breathed, a genuine wonder eclipsing her apprehension. She pulled her hand free from Eva’s grip, stepping further into Elan’s Grove. The ground beneath her boots yielded, soft and mossy like a Persian rug. There was a peculiar lightness to her steps, as if the very air supported her. “Beautiful things often hide the sharpest thorns,” Nyx murmured, their voice a silken rustle. They glided forward, their form flowing like liquid midnight. Nyx paused at the base of a gnarled oak, their incorporeal hand reaching out to brush against the dark, rough bark. “This place… it is old. Older than the stones of London, older than the memory of men.” Eva followed Aurora’s lead, her initial fear gradually yielding to an awestruck curiosity. She reached out a tentative hand, her fingers hovering inches from a bloom of incandescent blue. “It’s like a painting,” she murmured. “A living painting.” They ventured deeper, the ancient standing stones they had passed through now lost to sight, swallowed by the fantastical growth. The silence was profound, broken only by the softest, most otherworldly melodies. It wasn’t the chirping of birds or the hum of insects, but a resonant, harmonic thrum that seemed to vibrate from the very ground. Aurora stopped, holding up a hand. Her crescent scar, usually a faint white line on her left wrist, felt suddenly warm. She instinctively touched the Heartstone Pendant nestled beneath her shirt. It was giving off a faint warmth, a subtle pulse against her skin. Its crimson gem seemed to glow with a deeper intensity, mirroring the eerie light of the grove. “What is it?” Eva asked, noticing Aurora’s reaction. “I don’t know,” Aurora admitted, frowning. “The pendant… it’s reacting to something.” She glanced at Nyx, who had ceased their exploration and stood perfectly still, their violet eyes fixed on a point ahead. “A tear,” Nyx stated, their gaze not on Aurora but on the space between two colossal, silver-leafed ferns. “A thin place.” Aurora followed their gaze. At first, she saw nothing but the dense foliage. Then, as her eyes adjusted, a faint distortion shimmered in the air, like heat rising from asphalt on a summer day, but far more ephemeral. It was a wavering, almost invisible barrier, and through it, the grove seemed to blur, the colours bleeding into one another. “The Veil,” Aurora whispered, a chill unrelated to the grove's temperature racing through her. The lore Silas had once spouted, Lore she’d dismissed as ramblings, suddenly took on a terrifying clarity. “It’s… opening.” Nyx nodded slowly. “The solstices,” they said, their voice barely audible. “They weaken the boundaries. This forest… it’s a nexus. A place where the seams are naturally thin.” They approached the shimmering distortion, their steps cautious. As Aurora neared, the warmth from her pendant intensified, and a low hum, deeper than the grove’s ambient melody, began to emanate from it. Eva flinched, pressing herself against Aurora’s side. “This way lies … risk,” Nyx warned, their form shifting subtly, becoming more insubstantial at the edges as they neared the Veil. “And reward.” Aurora took a deep breath, the strange floral scent filling her lungs. She could feel a pull, a morbid curiosity urging her forward. This was not the familiar path of her pre-law studies, nor the mundane deliveries for the Golden Empress. This was… something else entirely. Something ancient, forbidden, and undeniably powerful. “What’s on the other side?” Eva asked, her voice trembling. “Another path,” Nyx replied. “Another choice.” Aurora hesitated. The Heartstone was pulsing insistently now, a small, warm beacon against the encroaching strangeness. She looked at Eva, her friend’s fear a palpable thing. Then she looked at Nyx, the enigmatic Shade, who moved with a grace that defied their shadowy nature. “We came here for answers,” Aurora said, her voice firm. “If there are answers beyond that… shimmer, then we have to see.” She stepped towards the Veil. As her hand reached out, the shimmering intensified, the air crackling with an invisible energy. Her fingers brushed against the distortion, and a jolt, like touching a static-charged balloon, shot up her arm. The world around them warped, the vibrant colours of the grove swirling into a vortex of impossible light and shadow. Then, with a sensation akin to falling and flying all at once, they were through. The grove vanished. They stood on a precipice, overlooking a landscape bathed in the warm, amber glow of an unnatural sky. Sprawling vineyards, their vines laden with impossibly fat, jewel-toned grapes, stretched as far as the eye could see. Orchards heavy with exotic fruits, some glowing with their own internal light, dotted the rolling hills. In the distance, magnificent structures, all gilded domes and impossibly tall spires, shimmered like mirages. The air here was thick with the intoxicating aroma of roasting meats, sweet pastries, and a thousand unidentifiable spices. A cacophony of sounds assaulted them: the clang of heavy pans, the rich laughter of revelers, the melodic strains of music played on instruments Aurora had never seen. It was loud, vibrant, and overwhelmingly opulent. “Where… where are we?” Eva stammered, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe. Nyx let out a soft sigh, their form solidifying almost entirely. “Dymas,” they said, their voice laced with a weary familiarity. “The realm of Gluttony.” Aurora’s hand tightened on the Heartstone, its warmth a comforting anchor in this new, overwhelming reality. The crimson gem pulsed, a silent promise of guidance, or perhaps, of warning. “Prince Belphegor’s domain,” she murmured, recalling fragments of Silas’s drunken rants. “This is… a Hel realm.” The scent of roasting meat, rich and gamey, wafted towards them, making Aurora’s stomach rumble despite the unease. The sheer excess of it all was staggering. It was beautiful, in its own terrifying, opulent way. A world built on unchecked desire, and Aurora, with a faint tremor in her hand, had just stepped into its heart. She looked at Eva, then Nyx, and tightened her grip on the pendant. This was no longer just about finding her way home. This was about navigating a world far more treacherous than she had ever imagined.