Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFQEGA3GEHQZ2VQDYP39HE

The air shimmered like heat rising from pavement as Aurora stepped through the standing stones. The Heartstone pendant at her throat pulsed warm against her skin, its crimson glow casting strange shadows across the ancient oak trunks. Behind her, Nyx's form flickered between solidity and shadow, their violet eyes scanning the grove with quiet intensity. "Time moves differently here," Isolde murmured, her silver hair catching moonlight that shouldn't have existed beneath the canopy. Her bare feet left no impression in the carpet of wildflowers that bloomed impossibly—bluebells beside winter roses, spring crocuses tangled with autumn foxgloves. "Watch the shadows. They have teeth." Aurora's fingers brushed the cool hilt of the Fae-forged blade at her belt. The grove hummed with energy that prickled along her skin, raising the fine hairs on her arms. The trees here grew twisted, their bark black as ink and veined with silver that pulsed faintly like a slow heartbeat. Between their roots, mushrooms glowed with bioluminescent light, casting eerie blue halos across the forest floor. Nyx moved ahead, their shadow-form stretching unnaturally long before snapping back to humanoid shape. "The air tastes of burnt sugar and lightning," they whispered, voice carrying on a wind Aurora couldn't feel. "This place remembers blood." Ahead, the path curved around a massive oak whose trunk bore a hollow large enough to walk through. The opening shimmered like disturbed water, reflecting colors that didn't exist in the mortal world—shades of violet too deep, greens too vibrant. Aurora's breath caught as she reached out, her fingertips passing through the surface with only the faintest resistance, like pushing through spider silk. "Wait—" Isolde began, but the decision was made. The world inverted. Aurora's stomach lurched as gravity shifted sideways, then righted itself with a nauseating snap. She stumbled onto soft moss, the air suddenly thick with the scent of ripe peaches and something metallic beneath. Nyx materialized beside her, their form more substantial here, the edges of their shadow-body sharpening into something nearly human. Isolde stepped through last, her lavender eyes glowing faintly in the twilight. They stood in a clearing where the trees grew upside-down, their roots twisting into a canopy overhead while their branches speared downward into earth that shimmered like liquid mercury. The sky—if it could be called that—swirled with amber and violet clouds that moved against each other in opposing currents. Aurora's pendant flared hot against her collarbone. "Where are we?" she whispered, her voice swallowed by the oppressive silence. Isolde tilted her head, listening to something Aurora couldn't hear. "The borderlands. Where Hel kisses the Fae wilds." She pointed to where the upside-down trees gave way to a vineyard stretching into the distance, the grapes black and swollen on the vine. "Dymas lies that way. Can you hear them?" At first, there was nothing. Then—a distant cacophony of clinking glass and laughter, the sizzle of meat on grills, the rhythmic chop of knives. The smells grew richer, overwhelming: caramelized onions, roasting meats, spices that burned Aurora's nostrils and made her eyes water. Her stomach growled despite herself. Nyx's form rippled uneasily. "The Prince's feasting halls. We shouldn't linger." Aurora moved toward the vineyard, drawn by some inexplicable pull. The black grapes glistened with dew that smelled faintly of wine. When she reached out to touch one, Isolde caught her wrist with surprising strength. "Everything here has a price," the seer warned. "Even knowledge." A rustle in the undergrowth. They turned as one to see a creature watching them from beneath the roots of an inverted tree—something with too many eyes and a mouth that split its face horizontally. It chittered at them, then vanished into the shadows. "Wardens," Nyx murmured. "They'll report our presence." The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet. In the distance, the amber clouds parted to reveal towering spires of black glass, their peaks lost in the swirling sky. Lights moved within them—hundreds, thousands of windows glowing gold against the eternal twilight. Aurora's pendant pulsed in time with the distant lights, its rhythm accelerating as they watched. Isolde's breath fogged in the suddenly chill air. "The Veil is thin here. We stand between worlds." She turned slowly, taking in the impossible landscape. "This place remembers when the realms were one." Aurora's fingers found the Fae blade again, its chill seeping through the leather sheath to bite at her fingertips. The unease in her gut had nothing to do with the disorienting landscape. Something watched them—not the many-eyed creature from before, but something older. The air grew heavier, pressing against her eardrums until they popped. Nyx went perfectly still. "Don't move," they breathed. Between one blink and the next, the shadows beneath the inverted trees deepened, stretching toward them like grasping fingers. The temperature plummeted. Aurora's exhale crystallized in the air before her face. The Heartstone pendant burned white-hot against her skin. Then—a sound like tearing fabric. The space before them rippled, and a figure stepped through the Veil as easily as passing through a curtain. Taller than any human, clad in robes that shifted color with every movement, the being regarded them with eyes that held entire galaxies within their depths. Aurora's mind skittered away from comprehending its full form, settling instead on impressions—antlers like blackened bone, hands with too many joints, a smile that showed teeth sharp as needles. "Little moths," it purred, its voice layered with echoes. "Fluttering too close to the flame." Isolde stepped forward, her silver hair lifting as though underwater. "We seek only passage, Elder One." The being laughed, and the sound made Aurora's vision blur. "All who come here seek something." Its gaze landed on Aurora, and she felt it like a physical touch—cold fingers tracing the curve of her spine. "Ah. You carry old debts, mortal." The pendant throbbed painfully. Aurora forced herself to meet those impossible eyes. "We don't want trouble." "Trouble wants you." The being gestured lazily, and the landscape around them warped—the vineyard stretched impossibly long, the black grapes now watching them with pupil-less white eyes. "The Prince prepares his table. The courses are many, and the guests... hungry." Nyx's form darkened, shadows coiling around their hands. "We're leaving." The being smiled wider. "Through the door you came? Or through the one that waits ahead?" It pointed toward the distant spires, where the lights now pulsed in time with Aurora's racing heart. "The choice, as ever, is yours." The ground trembled again, harder this time. From the direction of the spires came a new sound—a hunting horn, low and resonant, shaking the very air. The being's smile turned sharp. "Run, little moths." Then the world exploded into motion.