Run: 2026-02-19-01KHSWEX6FA5P3S4A8P3JERM5G

The amber light hit Aurora's face like a warm palm, strange and heavy against her skin. She blinked, eyes struggling to adjust after the darkness of the portal. Her boots sank into something soft—grass, but thicker than any grass she'd felt before, each blade rising to her ankle like the fur of some sleeping beast. "By all the—" She caught herself, one hand flying to the Heartstone at her collarbone. The crimson gem pulsed against her fingers, warm as fresh tea, warmer than it had ever been. Nyx materialised beside her, their shadowy form coalescing from the darkness beneath an ancient oak that twisted sideways out of soil the colour of rust. Their violet eyes swept the landscape. "We are not alone in this place." "That's comforting. Thanks for that." The Shadow drifted forward, their form leaving no impression in the strange grass. Aurora followed, each step accompanied by a soft crunch that sounded too loud in the stillness. She looked back. No footprints. The grass straightened behind her like nothing had passed. Ahead, the land rolled in gentle hills covered in vineyards. Grapes the size of plums hung in heavy clusters, their skins gleaming purple-black in the perpetual amber twilight. No sun hung in the sky—just that warm diffuse glow, sourceless, as if the air itself remembered what daylight felt like and couldn't quite let go. "Where is this?" "Dymas." Nyx's whisper carried an edge Aurora had never heard before. "One of the seven realms of Hel." Aurora stopped walking. Her hand moved from the Heartstone to the Fae blade at her hip, fingers brushing the moonsilver hilt. Cold. Always cold, even here. "Hell. We're in actual Hell." "Hel. There is a distinction, though you may not appreciate it yet." "Try me." Nyx turned, their features shifting within the shadows of their face—a trick of the light, or something more intentional, Aurora couldn't tell. "Hell is your religion's invention. Hel is older. Seven principalities, seven... inclinations. This one belongs to Belphegor." "And what's his thing? What's this place about?" The Shadow said nothing. Instead, they gestured toward the horizon, where the vineyards gave way to orchards heavy with fruit Aurora couldn't name—globes of sunset orange and deep violet, things that looked like crosses between pomegranates and lanterns, their skins translucent enough to show the glow of seeds within. A smell reached her then. Sweet, overwhelmingly so. Honey and wine and something like roasting meat, all layered together in a way that made her stomach clench with sudden violent hunger. Her mouth watered. She swallowed hard. "I wouldn't." Nyx's voice came from directly beside her ear, though they hadn't appeared to move. Aurora flinched, stepping back. "Wouldn't what?" "Trust your appetite here." She looked down at her hands. They were trembling. Not from fear—from want. The ache in her stomach felt like a living thing, clawing upward toward her throat. "What is this?" "Gluttony." Nyx drifted toward the nearest vine, reaching with a hand that passed through the leaves without disturbing them. "Everything here is meant to be consumed. And everything here consumes in return." Aurora forced her feet to move, putting distance between herself and the grapes. Each step felt like wading through warm honey. The air had weight here, pressing against her skin like hands. They walked in silence for what might have been minutes or hours—time moved strangely, she realised, the amber light never shifting, never dimming. The vineyards gave way to gardens where flowers bloomed in spirals, their petals shifting through colours as she watched—blue to purple to red to gold, never settling, always hungry for attention. A fountain appeared ahead, carved from white stone worn smooth by centuries of water. The liquid that cascaded down its tiers wasn't water. It was too thick, too golden, catching the light like syrup. The smell of it hit her before she could identify what it was—mead, maybe, or something older, sweeter, fermented from fruits that hadn't grown on Earth in millennia. A figure sat on the fountain's edge. Aurora's hand found her blade. The figure was human-shaped, but wrong in ways that made her eyes hurt. Too tall, limbs stretching into shadow at the edges. Its face shifted constantly—young, old, beautiful, grotesque—never settling long enough for her to pin down a single feature. It wore what might have been fine clothes once, now stained with the golden liquid from the fountain. It hadn't seen them yet. Or was pretending not to. "Helbound." Nyx's whisper barely qualified as sound. "A soul contracted to this place." "A soul? Like... a dead person?" "Like someone who traded themselves for something. Now they serve the realm. Serve its appetite." The Helbound raised its head. Its shifting face stretched into something like a smile. "Guests." The word came out sticky, slow. "We haven't had guests in so very long." Aurora held her ground. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but her voice came out steady enough. "We're just passing through." "Passing through." The thing laughed, a sound like wind through dead leaves. "No one passes through Dymas. You stay. You taste. You become." It rose from the fountain's edge. Its movements were jerky, puppet-like, as if strings attached to limbs it could no longer feel. "Prince Belphegor will want to see you. He so loves new faces." "We're not here to see anyone." "Everyone is here to see him." The Helbound shuffled closer. Up close, Aurora could see the details she'd missed before—the way its skin seemed too thin, stretched over bones that showed through at the joints, the way its eyes held too many colours at once, swirling like oil on water. "He sees everything. Feeds on everything. This whole realm is his table, and you—" Nyx moved between them. Their shadowy form expanded, darkness spilling outward like ink in water. The temperature dropped sharply. "She said we are passing through." The Helbound recoiled. Its shifting face cycled through fear, hunger, rage, and something else—something like recognition. "Shade." The word came out as a hiss. "One of the in-between." "I will not ask again." For a moment, nothing moved. The amber light seemed to darken, shadows lengthening toward the Helbound like reaching fingers. Then the creature stepped back, its form flickering. "The grove. You seek the Seer's grove." Aurora's grip on her blade tightened. "How do you know that?" "Everyone seeks something." The Helbound's face settled briefly into an expression of pity. "The grove lies beyond the orchards. Follow the smell of pomegranates, but do not eat. Do not drink. Do not accept what is offered." It turned away, shuffling back toward the fountain. "Your friend knows the way. The in-between always know the paths." Nyx made no move to stop it. They watched the Helbound sink back onto the fountain's edge, reaching with trembling hands to cup the golden liquid, drinking deeply, its form flickering with each swallow. "This way." The Shadow moved without waiting for her. Aurora followed, her boots sinking into the rust-coloured soil, her hand still on her blade. Behind her, the fountain continued to flow, and the Helbound continued to drink, and the amber light pressed down like a hand on her shoulder. She didn't look back.