AI The Moonsilver blade bit into the knot of the ancient oak, and the world didn't just bleed; it unraveled. Aurora felt the resistance of the bark give way not to wood, but to a shimmering, viscous membrane that smelled of crushed violets and ozone. She stepped through the tear before the Fae-touched timber could knit itself shut, her boots finding no purchase on the other side. She wasn't falling, but the sensation of weight had vanished, replaced by a disconcerting buoyancy that made her stomach lurch .
"Don't fight the air, Rory. It isn't air here."
Isolde's voice drifted from somewhere to her left, though the Seer remained invisible behind a curtain of weeping willow branches that glowed with a soft, bioluminescent gold. Aurora righted herself, her hand instinctively flying to the Heartstone Pendant beneath her shirt. It thrummed against her collarbone, a frantic, rhythmic pulse that warned of thinning boundaries.
The Grove wasn't a forest anymore. They had crossed the threshold of Richmond Park into something that defied the geography of London. Above them, the sky held the bruised, swirling purple of a fresh haematoma, punctuated by stars that drifted like dandelion seeds in a breeze Aurora couldn't feel.
"My head... it feels like it’s vibrating."
Nyx shifted beside her, their form more defined than usual. The Shade’s violet eyes burned with a sharper intensity , their silhouette flickering like a guttering candle. In this realm, the boundary between solid and shadow seemed to fail; Nyx looked less like a hole in the world and more like a statue carved from midnight.
"The resonance of the Veil is louder here," Nyx whispered, the sound overlapping itself like a dozen voices speaking at once. "The mortal coil screams when it is stretched this thin."
They moved forward, or perhaps the landscape moved around them. The ground beneath Aurora’s feet felt like packed velvet , giving slightly with every step, yet leaving no indentation. Huge, translucent fungi sprouted from the base of trees that twisted upward in impossible spirited spirals, their caps pulsating with a rhythmic , pale light. As Aurora passed one, a cloud of spores drifted toward her, each speck humming a tiny, high-pitched note. A chord of music followed her footsteps , a discordant melody composed by the environment itself.
"Does time always move like this here?" Aurora asked, glancing back at the rift. It was gone . In its place stood a pillar of salt that tasted of tears when the wind brushed past it. "I feel like I've lived a week since we stepped through, but my watch says three seconds have passed."
"Time is a mortal vanity, child." Isolde led the way, her silver hair trailing behind her like a comet’s tail. She didn't walk so much as glide, her feet hovering a fraction of an inch above the iridescent moss. "In the Grove, tomorrow happened yesterday, and the present is merely a suggestion we all agree upon for the sake of conversation."
"Riddles won't keep us alive if Belphegor’s hounds caught the scent," Aurora snapped.
She gripped the hilt of the Fae-Forged Blade tighter. The Moonsilver felt freezing, a stark contrast to the cloying, humid warmth of the air. They reached a clearing where the trees didn't grow from the ground, but hung suspended from the violet sky, their roots reaching upward like desperate fingers. Between these inverted giants, a stream flowed horizontally through the air, dragonflies with metallic, clockwork wings darting in and out of the water.
The Heartstone grew hot. Not the gentle warmth of a warning, but a searing heat that began to smoke against Aurora’s skin.
"Something's wrong. The pendant... it’s reacting to something huge."
"The gateway to Dymas," Nyx said, their voice dropping to a low, jagged rasp . They pointed toward a cluster of obsidian standing stones at the far end of the clearing. "The Glutton’s gate. Can you smell it?"
Aurora inhaled, and the sweetness of the violets was choked out by something heavy and saccharine. It was the scent of overripe fruit turning to rot, of roasting meats basted in honey, of wine so thick it would stain the soul. It was delicious and revolting all at once. Her mouth watered involuntarily, a sharp ache of hunger clawing at her stomach despite the heavy meal she’d had at the Golden Empress only hours before.
"Don't breathe it in too deeply," Isolde warned, her lavender eyes fixed on the shimmering distortion between the stones. "Dymas does not just feed the body; it devours the will. One taste of the air from the Prince's kitchens, and you will spend the rest of your life trying to find your way back to the table."
"I'm not here for the buffet," Aurora muttered, though her legs felt heavy, drawn toward the amber glow beginning to leak from the center of the stones .
The distortion rippled. The air didn't just shimmer; it tore.
A wave of heat rolled over them, smelling of cinnamon and scorched fat. Through the rift, Aurora glimpsed a world of terrifying indulgence. A sky the color of molten clover honey hung over rolling hills of vineyards where the grapes were the size of plums. Grand, ivory-white pavilions stretched as far as the eye could see, and the distant sound of laughter and clattering silverware drifted through the gap. It looked like paradise, yet there was a frantic, desperate edge to the music that hummed beneath the revelry.
"The Wardens," Nyx hissed, suddenly dissolving into a flat smear of ink on the ground. "Rory, get down!"
Aurora threw herself behind a large, pulsating puffball just as a streak of silver light lanced through the air where her head had been. The silence of the Grove shattered .
Three figures in polished, white-gold plate armour emerged from the shimmering trees. They wore no helms, their faces unnervingly symmetrical and devoid of emotion. They didn't run; they blurred, moving with a flickering speed that suggested they were skipping through the seconds of the day.
"The Boundary is closed to the uninvited!" the lead Warden cried, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together .
He raised a spear tipped with a crystal that glowed with a blinding, sterile white light. Behind him, the others fanned out, their movements perfectly synchronized , their eyes fixed on Aurora with the detached intensity of a biologist pinning a specimen.
"Isolde, do something!" Aurora scrambled upward, drawing the Fae blade.
"I am an oracle, not a soldier," the Seer replied, her voice calm even as a bolt of energy thudded into the tree beside her, turning the wood to glass. "But the blade in your hand was forged for this. Iron for the earth, silver for the moon, and Moonsilver for the things that should not be."
Aurora didn't wait for a second lesson. The lead Warden was on her in an instant, his spear whistling through the air. She parried, the impact vibrating up her arms and rattling her teeth. The Moonsilver blade shrieked as it met the Warden’s crystal spear, a shower of blue sparks illuminating the darkening Grove.
"You smell of the Pit, human," the Warden spat, his face inches from hers. His breath smelled of nothing—no food, no decay, just sterile, recycled air. "The Heartstone. Give it up, or we will take the hand that holds it."
"Try it," Aurora gasped, kicking out at his knee.
Her boot connected, but it was like hitting a marble pillar. The Warden didn't flinch. He spun the spear, the butt of the weapon catching Aurora in the ribs and sending her sprawling toward the obsidian stones. She hit the ground hard, the breath leaving her lungs in a ragged burst.
The Heartstone was screaming now, a vibrant, angry crimson light pouring through the fabric of her shirt. The Gate to Dymas was responding , the amber glow intensifying, turning the clearing into a vision of hellish gold.
"The seal is breaking!" one of the other Wardens shouted, his calm facade finally cracking . "Seal the rift! Kill the catalyst!"
"Nyx!" Aurora screamed, rolling onto her back as the two Wardens converged on her, their spears raised for a killing thrust.
The shadows beneath the Wardens’ feet suddenly surged upward like lances of obsidian. Nyx erupted from the ground, their form expanding until they towered over the clearing, a colossal, winged nightmare of absolute black. They caught one Warden by the throat, the silver armour frosting over with black ice at the Shade’s touch.
"You forget whose realm this was before you built your fences," Nyx’s voice boomed, no longer a whisper , but a mountain-shaking roar.
The second Warden lunged for Aurora, ignoring his comrade’s fate. Aurora lunged forward, the Fae-Forged Blade lead-heavy in her hand. She didn't aim for the armour; she aimed for the gaps. As the Warden’s spear descended, she slid beneath the strike, her black hair whipping across her face, and drove the Moonsilver dagger into the soft joint at the Warden’s hip.
The blade didn't just cut; it drank. The Warden let out a sound that wasn't a scream, but a hiss of escaping steam. His form flickered , his golden armour losing its luster, turning to dull lead before he collapsed into a heap of empty metal and grey ash.
Aurora scrambled back, gasping for air, her eyes darting to the Gate.
The obsidian stones were vibrating , the space between them no longer just a window, but a vacuum. A hand, massive and stained with the purple juice of infinite crushed grapes, reached through the golden light of Dymas, grasping the edge of the world.
"The Prince's butcher," Isolde whispered, her face pale . "He smells the Heartstone. He's coming for his tithe."
The ground shuddered. From the amber depths of the Gluttony realm, a silhouette began to emerge, a mountain of flesh draped in silk as thick as carpets. The air in the Grove turned thick and oily, and the sound of a thousand starving mouths gnashing their teeth filled Aurora's head.
"Rory, the gate!" Nyx yelled, struggling to hold back the remaining Warden . "Use the stone! Close it or we're all on the menu!"