AI
The amber sky bled into the horizonlike molten gold, casting long, distorted shadows across the sprawling vineyards that choked the valley floor. Aurora Carter, known to her friends as Rory, adjusted the strap of her delivery bag, her breath misting in the unnaturally warm air. Nyx, a shifting silhouette of living shadow, flowed soundlessly beside her, their violet eyes fixed on the distant, impossibly tall stone archway that marked the entrance to Dymas. Isolde Varga, the Half-Fae seer, walked with an ethereal grace, her silver hair catching the strange light, her pale lavender eyes scanning the surroundings with unsettling calm.
“This place feels... heavy,” Isolde murmured, her voice a whisper carried on the wind. “Like the weight of a thousand forgotten sins.”
“Heavy with what?” Nyx asked, their form flickering as they passed a cluster of oversized, glowing mushrooms that pulsed with a soft, internal light. “The air tastes of decay and ripe fruit. Like a banquet left out too long.”
Aurora’s gaze swept over the endless rows of vines heavy with impossibly large, jewel-toned grapes, and orchards bursting with fruits she couldn’t name – some shimmering with iridescent skin, others emitting faint, musical chimes as they swayed. The ground beneath her boots was soft, yielding slightly , carpeted with a thick, velvety moss that absorbed sound. She felt a prickle of unease, a familiar tension coiling in her gut, the scar on her left wrist itching faintly. She’d fled this place once before, but the pull of the unknown, the lure of the Heartstone Pendant she’d found hidden in her delivery bag, was stronger than her fear.
They passed a fountain, not of water, but of liquid amber that bubbled and hissed, steaming slightly . A group of helbound souls, gaunt and pale, tended to the vines, their movements slow and dreamlike. They didn’t seem to notice the intruders, lost in their own silent toil. Aurora’s hand drifted towards the pendant at her neck, the small, crimson gem pulsing with a faint, warm heat against her skin. It felt like a living thing, a tiny heart beating in time with her own.
“Look,” Nyx breathed, their shadow form coalescing into a more solid, imposing silhouette. They pointed towards a clearing where a grand feast was laid out on a table carved from a single, impossibly ancient tree. Silverware glittered, and platters overflowed with meats that seemed to steam even in the cold air, fruits that glowed with inner light, and pastries that looked like spun sugar and starlight . But the diners were not human. They were demons, their forms twisted and grotesque, feasting with ravenous abandon, their laughter echoing like cracked bells. Prince Belphegor, a figure of immense, corpulent power, presided over the table, his eyes fixed on the newcomers with predatory interest.
“A spectacle,” Isolde stated, her voice devoid of emotion . “Gluttony’s true face. They feast on souls, Rory. On the essence of the living. That’s why the Veil weakens here. The barrier between realms is thinner where desire runs deepest.”
Aurora felt a cold dread settle in her chest. The Veil. The barrier between Earth and Hel. She remembered Isolde’s compulsion – she couldn’t lie, but she could mislead. The seer’s words were riddles, but the implication was clear: they were in grave danger. The winter solstice was approaching , and the Veil would be at its most vulnerable. Demons could slip through.
They moved deeper into the realm, the air growing thicker, the scents more potent – spices, decay, ripe fruit, and something else, metallic and cold. Nyx flowed ahead, their shadow form dissolving into the darkness between the vines, reappearing moments later, seemingly from nowhere . Aurora kept her hand near the Fae-Forged Blade Isolde had given her, the cold steel a reassuring weight in her pocket. The blade hummed faintly, a low, resonant note that vibrated in her bones, promising protection against the darkness.
They entered a vast, domed hall, its ceiling lost in shadow, supported by pillars carved from petrified wood. The floor was polished obsidian, reflecting the flickering light of countless, unseen torches. At the far end, a throne made of twisted bone and obsidian awaited. Prince Belphegor stood, his form shifting and shimmering, a grotesque parody of majesty. He raised a hand, and the air crackled with dark energy.
“Intruders,” he rasped, his voice like gravel and rot. “In the realm of Gluttony. How quaint. What brings you to my table?”
Aurora stepped forward, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. “We seek passage. Through the Veil. We need to reach the Fae Grove.”
Belphegor’s laughter echoed , a sound that made the obsidian floor tremble. “The Veil? A mere crack in the wall. But you seek the Grove? Ah, the place where time itself is a prisoner. A foolish quest, child. The Grove is guarded by the Seer herself, and she is not easily found.”
Nyx shifted, their shadow form coiling like a serpent. “Then we shall find her. Or you shall find us.”
The Prince’s eyes narrowed , a flicker of something like amusement crossing his face . “Very well. But know this: the weakening of the Veil makes this realm... unstable. Demons stir. The feast is never-ending, but the guests grow restless. You tread on thin ice, mortals.”
As he spoke, Aurora felt the air around her thicken, the amber light distorting, shimmering like heat haze. A tear in the Veil, visible only to her heightened senses, flickered weakly nearby, a faint, shimmering distortion in the air. Nyx’s form flickered violently, as if buffeted by an unseen wind. Isolde closed her eyes, her silver hair swirling, and murmured a riddle that sounded like wind through dead leaves .
“The heartstone burns, the blade sings cold. The seer’s riddle, the demon’s hold. The feast ends when the veil is whole.”
Aurora clutched the Heartstone Pendant, feeling its warmth intensify. Nyx’s shadow form solidified, becoming a towering, imposing figure of darkness. “We are not here for your feast, Belphegor,” Nyx stated, their voice a low rumble that vibrated in the stone floor. “We are here for the truth. And the Veil.”
The Prince’s laughter died in his throat, replaced by a low growl. “Truth? In Gluttony? You seek the impossible. But perhaps... perhaps you are the key. The catalyst. The one who can tip the scales.”
He raised his hand again, and a wave of dark energy washed over them. Aurora felt a surge of power, the Heartstone pulsing violently, the Fae-Forged Blade humming with a fierce, protective light. Nyx’s shadow form flared, a protective shroud around them. Isolde’s eyes snapped open, wide and pale lavender, fixed on the Prince with unnerving intensity .
“The seer speaks,” she intoned, her voice cutting through the dark energy like a knife. “The heartstone burns, the blade sings cold. The feast ends when the veil is whole. But the veil is weak, Prince. Very weak. And the guests... they are hungry.”
A low, guttural growl echoed from the throne, and the obsidian floor trembled violently. Demons, drawn by the disturbance, began to stir from the shadows, their forms coalescing from the darkness. The feast was over. The hunt had begun. The realm of Gluttony, weakened by the approaching solstice, had awakened. The small group stood together, the Heartstone burning hot against Aurora’s skin, the Fae-Forged Blade humming a defiant note, Nyx’s shadow a shield, and Isolde’s gaze fixed on the Prince, a silent challenge hanging in the charged , amber air. The exploration had only just begun, and the dangers were far greater than they had imagined.