Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMXQ71YTS9V38CRP1QYY0MB

The threshold felt like stepping through a soap bubble made of starlight. Aurora's breath caught as the familiar weight of London's grey sky lifted from her shoulders, replaced by something altogether more intoxicating. The amber light that bathed everything here wasn't quite sunset, wasn't quite sunrise—it existed in some perpetual golden hour that made her skin tingle with warmth. "Well," she murmured, her voice carrying farther than it should in the still air, "I don't think we're in Richmond Park anymore." Beside her, Nyx's form rippled like heat waves rising from summer pavement. Their violet eyes brightened as they took in the sprawling landscape before them. "Dymas," they whispered, and the name seemed to hang in the air like incense smoke. "The realm of Prince Belphegor." Isolde stepped through behind them, her silver hair catching the amber light and throwing it back in impossible prisms. Where her feet touched the ground—soft, loamy earth that smelled of honey and wine—no impression remained. "The first of the seven circles you must walk," she said, though her pale lavender eyes held secrets she wouldn't name. "Choose your steps with care, Aurora Carter. Here, even the earth remembers what feeds upon it." They stood at the edge of what could only be described as paradise twisted into something more complex. Rolling hills stretched before them, covered in vineyards whose vines bore fruit Aurora had never seen—clusters of berries that shifted color as she watched, from deep purple to golden amber to a red so rich it looked like liquid garnets. Between the rows, she caught glimpses of trees heavy with fruit that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. The Heartstone Pendant against her chest had grown noticeably warmer since they'd crossed the threshold. Its crimson surface pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat, or perhaps her heart had begun to match its tempo—she couldn't tell which anymore. "The air tastes different," she observed, running her tongue over her lips. It was true. Each breath carried flavors—cinnamon and cardamom, the bright pop of citrus, something darker like aged wine and bitter chocolate. Her stomach rumbled in response, though she'd eaten before entering Isolde's grove. "Everything here is designed to tempt," Nyx said, their form solidifying as they moved deeper into the realm. In this amber light, their shadow-body seemed less stark, more like a figure carved from twilight itself. "Belphegor rules through excess, not force. The chains here are golden, but they bind just as surely." They walked along a path that had appeared beneath their feet without Aurora noticing—white stone that felt pleasantly warm through the soles of her boots. To their left, the vineyards continued in neat, abundant rows. To their right, orchards began, and Aurora found herself slowing despite her better judgment. The trees were wrong in the most beautiful way possible. Apple trees bore fruit the size of melons, their skin bearing patterns like stained glass windows. Pear trees dripped with golden fruit that chimed softly when the warm breeze moved through them. And there—she stopped entirely—a tree whose branches held what looked like crystallized honey, each drop the size of her fist and glowing from within. "Don't," Isolde said softly, appearing at Aurora's elbow with her unnerving ability to move without sound. "One taste binds you. The first bite is always free, but the price for the second..." She trailed off, but her meaning hung heavy in the sweet air. Aurora's hand had been reaching for one of the crystal fruits without her conscious decision. She jerked it back, flexing her fingers. "Right. Good to know." The Fae-forged blade at her hip felt cold against her leg, a sharp contrast to the seductive warmth that surrounded them. They continued along the path, and the sounds began to reach them. Laughter, first—rich and genuine, the kind that came from deep satisfaction. Then music, instruments Aurora couldn't identify playing melodies that made her want to dance, or weep, or both at once. And underneath it all, a sound like distant feasting—the clink of glasses, the soft sounds of appreciation, conversations that rose and fell like waves. "There," Nyx pointed ahead where the path crested a low hill. "The palace of indulgence." Aurora's breath caught again. The structure before them defied every architectural principle she knew. It seemed to be built from crystallized wine—deep reds and burnished golds forming walls that curved and flowed like frozen liquid. Towers rose in spirals that hurt to follow with the eye, and bridges of what looked like spun sugar connected buildings that floated at impossible angles. But it was the garden surrounding the palace that truly struck her. Massive trees whose trunks were easily fifty feet around supported branches heavy with every fruit she'd ever imagined and many she hadn't. Between them, tables had been set—not the rough wooden affairs she might expect, but delicate things that looked like they'd been grown rather than built, their surfaces inlaid with mother-of-pearl and precious metals. At these tables sat figures that were almost human. Almost. They laughed and feasted with expressions of pure bliss, but something in their eyes suggested they'd been laughing for far longer than was natural. Their movements had a quality of repetition, as if they were actors in a play that had run too many nights. "The bound souls," Nyx murmured. "Master chefs from Earth, contracted to create wonders for Belphegor's court. They find their paradise here, but..." They gestured, and Aurora saw it now—the way the diners never quite finished their plates, how the laughter never quite reached those eyes, the subtle desperation in their pursuit of the next perfect bite. A warm breeze carried scents that made Aurora's mouth water involuntarily—roasting meats glazed with something that smelled like starlight, bread that crackled as it cooled, soups that seemed to contain the essence of comfort itself. Her stomach clenched with sudden, sharp hunger. "The temptation grows stronger the deeper we go," Isolde observed, though she seemed unaffected herself. "Your human blood calls to the offerings here. Steel yourself, child. We have far yet to walk before this path releases you." Aurora pressed her hand to the Heartstone Pendant, using its warmth to anchor herself. The crimson gem pulsed more rapidly now, and she realized it wasn't just reacting to the realm—it was reacting to her growing hunger, her increasing susceptibility to Dymas's lures. "How do we get through?" she asked, watching as one of the bound souls at a nearby table caught sight of them and raised a goblet in invitation. The liquid inside swirled with colors that didn't exist in the natural world. "Carefully," Nyx replied, but their violet eyes held something that might have been anticipation. "Very, very carefully." The path led them closer to the palace, and with each step, the sensory assault intensified. Aurora's vision swam with colors too vivid, her nose filled with aromas that promised satisfaction beyond earthly pleasure, her ears rang with music that seemed designed to unmake her will to resist. But the Fae blade remained cold at her side, and the pendant's warmth kept her grounded in purpose. Whatever lay ahead in Prince Belphegor's realm of golden excess, she would face it as Aurora Carter—not as another soul bound to eternal, hollow feasting. The amber sky pulsed overhead like a slow heartbeat, and deeper they went into the beautiful trap of Dymas.