AI The air inside the grove shimmered with an unnatural stillness. Aurora stepped through the boundary marked by the ancient oak standing stones, and the world shifted around her. The familiar sounds of Richmond Park—the distant hum of traffic, the chatter of joggers, the rustle of wind through ordinary trees—vanished like a dream upon waking.
She stood frozen, her boots sinking into moss that glowed faintly with its own inner light. The ground beneath her felt softer than any earth she'd known, almost like walking on velvet . Above, the canopy formed a perfect dome of interwoven branches, their leaves catching light that seemed to have no source . Wildflowers bloomed in impossible colors—violets that shimmered like crushed gemstones, whites that glowed with their own luminescence, reds that pulsed as if alive.
Nyx materialized beside her, their shadowy form rippling with the transition. "The Fae don't do anything by halves," they murmured, their voice barely more than a whisper carried on the stillness. "This place exists in the spaces between moments."
Eva stepped through next, her breath catching audibly. "Bloody hell," she breathed, reaching out to touch a flower that bent toward her fingers like a curious pet. "It's like something out of a fairytale."
The grove seemed to respond to their presence. The air warmed slightly, carrying the scent of honey and something older, wilder—like ancient forests and forgotten magic. Aurora felt a strange pull in her chest, as if the place recognized something in her, something she hadn't known was there.
They moved deeper, following a path that appeared only as they walked it. The standing stones behind them had vanished, though Aurora could still feel their presence like a heartbeat at her back. Time behaved strangely here; she couldn't tell if minutes or hours had passed since they'd entered.
A stream cut through the grove, its waters so clear they might have been air. Aurora knelt beside it, watching silver fish with too many fins dart between water lilies that bloomed in all seasons simultaneously. When she cupped her hands and brought the water to her lips, it tasted of morning dew and starlight.
"Something's watching us," Nyx said suddenly, their form solidifying into something more substantial. "Not threatening, but ... curious."
The feeling crawled over Aurora's skin like a thousand tiny fingers. She rose slowly, scanning the grove. Movement flickered at the edge of her vision—figures half-glimpsed between the trees, too tall, too graceful, gone when she turned to look directly at them.
"Show yourselves," Aurora called out, her voice carrying a resonance she didn't recognize . The words seemed to hang in the air, glowing faintly before dissipating.
From behind a curtain of silver-barked trees stepped Isolde Varga. She moved without disturbing a single leaf, her bare feet leaving no impression on the moss. Her silver hair caught the impossible light, and her lavender eyes held depths that made Aurora's breath catch.
"You seek answers," Isolde said, her voice like wind through chimes. "But answers have their own price, mortal child."
Aurora stepped forward, the Heartstone pendant warm against her chest. "I need to understand what's happening. The Veil is thinning, and something's coming through."
Isolde's smile held secrets older than cities. "The Veil always thins. It is its nature, like the tide or the turning of seasons. What concerns you is not the thinning, but the direction of the pull ."
"The pull?" Eva asked, moving to stand beside Aurora . "What pull?"
Isolde gestured, and a branch heavy with fruit lowered itself. The fruit glowed like captured sunset, and when Isolde plucked one, it sang a note that resonated in Aurora's bones. "The Heartstone calls to its birthplace. Dymas sings to those who carry its children."
Aurora's hand went to the pendant. It pulsed in response, warm and insistent. "You mean it's trying to take me back?"
"Not take," Isolde corrected gently . "Guide. The stones remember their origin, and you carry a piece of that memory." She offered the glowing fruit to Aurora. "Taste, and perhaps you'll understand the nature of your burden."
The fruit burst on Aurora's tongue like liquid sunlight, flooding her with images—vast banquet halls, endless tables groaning with impossible delicacies, a prince with eyes like molten gold watching her from across a crowded room. She saw herself standing at the edge of a vineyard that stretched to a horizon painted in amber light, the Heartstone pendant blazing on her chest like a beacon .
She staggered back, nearly falling. Nyx's shadowy form caught her elbow, solid and steadying. "What did you see?" they asked, their whisper urgent .
"Dymas," Aurora managed, the word tasting of wine and regret. "I saw Dymas. And him—Prince Belphegor. He was waiting for me."
Eva's face had gone pale. "That's not possible. You've never been to Hel."
"The Heartstone remembers for me," Aurora said, pressing her palm against her chest where the pendant still pulsed . "It carries the memory of its creation, and somehow, that memory is tied to me."
Isolde moved closer, her presence filling the space between the trees like perfume. "The prince does not wait idly, mortal child. When a piece of Dymas crosses the Veil, it creates ripples. Ripples become waves. Waves become storms."
Aurora met her lavender gaze, refusing to look away. "Then help me understand. What does he want with me?"
"The question is not what he wants with you," Isolde said, her voice dropping to match Nyx's whisper . "The question is what you want with him."
The grove seemed to hold its breath. Even the stream's gentle music paused, as if the very land awaited Aurora's answer. She thought of the prince's golden eyes, the way the Heartstone had called to her since the moment she'd first touched it. She thought of the warmth that spread through her whenever she was near it, like coming home to something she'd never known she'd lost.
"I want to understand why I'm connected to it," Aurora said finally. "Why this keeps happening to me. Why I can't seem to escape whatever destiny the Heartstone has planned."
Isolde nodded, as if Aurora had passed some unseen test. "Then you must go to the source. The Heartstone will guide you, but guidance comes with danger. Dymas is not a place for mortal souls, even those who carry its children."
"I'm already connected," Aurora said, her voice steadier than she felt . "Might as well see it through."
Nyx shifted, their form rippling with unease. "We don't know what we're walking into. Prince Belphegor isn't known for his hospitality to those who stumble into his domain uninvited."
"Invited or not, the invitation has been extended," Isolde said, plucking another fruit from the branch. This one glowed with a different light, more silver than gold. "The prince has marked you, mortal child. The question is whether you'll answer the call, or whether you'll let fear keep you from your inheritance."
Aurora reached for the silver fruit. It sang differently than the first, a note of resolve and determination. When she bit into it, the taste was of winter stars and iron will. "I'm going," she said, wiping juice from her chin. "But I won't go unprepared."
Isolde's smile held approval. "Wise. The Fae-Forged Blade will serve you well in Dymas. Its edge cuts through more than flesh—it severs bonds and breaks chains."
Aurora thought of the slender dagger hidden in her coat, the one Isolde had given her months ago. She'd never understood why a Fae seer would gift her a weapon, but now the reason seemed clear as crystal .
"The blade is meant for Belphegor's chains," she said, understanding dawning . "It's not just a weapon—it's a key."
"Or a lock," Isolde said cryptically. "Depends on which way you turn it." She stepped back, gesturing to the path that had appeared behind her . It wound through the trees, glowing with the same amber light Aurora had seen in her vision. "The way to Dymas lies through the heart of the grove. Follow the light that calls to your stone, and you'll find the threshold."
Eva grabbed Aurora's arm. "You can't be serious about this. We don't know what's waiting on the other side."
"I know enough," Aurora said, though her heart hammered against her ribs . "The Heartstone brought me this far. It won't abandon me now."
Nyx's shadowy form solidified into something almost human, their violet eyes intense in the otherworldly light. "Then we go together. No more splitting up, no more going alone into danger."
"Together," Aurora agreed, surprised by the relief that washed through her. She wasn't sure she could face Prince Belphegor's domain alone, even with the Heartstone's guidance.
They followed the amber-lit path deeper into the grove, the air growing warmer with each step. The scent of wine and roasting meat drifted through the trees, though no kitchens or vineyards were in sight. Aurora's pendant grew hot against her skin, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
At the center of the grove stood a tree unlike any other. Its trunk was the color of burnished copper, and its branches bore fruit that shifted through every color of the sunset. At its base, a pool of liquid amber reflected not their three faces, but glimpses of another world —rolling vineyards, feasting tables, and a throne room where a figure in crimson robes watched them with golden eyes.
"The threshold," Isolde's voice came from behind them, though Aurora hadn't heard her approach. "Step through, and there's no returning the same. The prince's domain changes all who enter."
Aurora looked at Eva, then at Nyx. Both nodded, though fear tightened their expressions. She took a deep breath, tasting the honey-sweet air of the grove, and stepped toward the pool.
The amber liquid rippled as she approached, and for a moment, she saw her own face reflected back—but older, harder, wearing a crown of twisted vines and holding a goblet of liquid gold. The reflection smiled, and it was not entirely a kind smile.
"Ready or not," Aurora whispered, and stepped through the threshold into Dymas.