AI The humid, cloying air of Dymas clung to Aurora's skin like a second layer, a greasy film that even the silver chain of the Heartstone Pendant, resting against her collarbone, couldn't entirely dispel. The scent of overripe fruit and roasting meat, thick enough to chew, assaulted her senses. Before them, the amber sky of Hel pulsed , a perpetual sunset that cast long, distorted shadows across a landscape of impossible abundance. Towering vines dripped with fruit that shimmered with an inner light, and trees bore leaves of spun gold, their branches laden with what looked like crystallised honey .
"Christ," Eva breathed, her voice a hushed whisper that was swallowed by the sheer, overwhelming presence of the place. "It's… a lot."
Aurora nodded, her fingers tightening around the cool, smooth hilt of the Fae-Forged Blade. Even in this oppressive heat, its moonsilver remained perpetually chilled . She’d left London behind, its familiar grit and grime, for this. A place rumoured to be the heart of Gluttony, governed by a Prince Belphegor. She wasn't here for the feasts, though. She was chasing a ghost, a whisper of information about the Veil, about the encroaching darkness.
Nyx, a silhouette of coalescing shadow, drifted beside her, their faintly violet eyes scanning the surreal landscape. They moved with an unsettling grace, like smoke clinging to the air. "Embrace the excess, Carter," Nyx rasped, their voice like dry leaves skittering across stone. "It is the nature of this realm. To resist is to starve."
"I appreciate the philosophical insight, Nyx, but I'm not particularly hungry." Aurora gestured vaguely at the overflowing bounty around them. "Just want to find the market stalls, see if anyone's seen what we're looking for."
They advanced into the heart of Dymas. The ground beneath their feet was not soil, but a rich, dark loam that squelched softly with each step, releasing a new wave of exotic perfumes. Master chefs, their faces slick with sweat and concentration, tended to steaming cauldrons and impossibly large ovens. Their helbound souls were evident in the vacant stares and the way they moved with a desperate, forced cheerfulness. One, a portly man with a chef’s hat askew, chopped violently at a glistening , seven-limbed creature that wriggled feebly. He paused, his eyes flicking towards Aurora’s group, a flicker of something other than drudgery in their depths before snapping back to his task.
"They seem… occupied," Eva said, a note of unease creeping into her voice. She clutched Aurora's arm, her knuckles white.
"They are bound to serve, aren't they?" Aurora murmured, her gaze fixed on a magnificent stall laden with pastries that glowed with soft, internal light. Each one was a miniature work of art, sculpted into fantastical creatures and swirling patterns. The air here was thicker, sweeter, the aroma of sugar and spice a potent, nauseating perfume.
Nyx stopped, their shadowy form solidifying slightly , one indistinct arm pointing towards a less ostentatious pavilion tucked between two towering trees that bore fruit resembling oversized rubies. A sign, wrought from what looked like hammered gold, hung above it : ‘Belphegor’s Bargains’.
"There," Nyx’s voice whispered. "The Prince’s domain offers more than just sustenance. It offers secrets."
A subtle shift in the air heralded their approach to the pavilion. The riotous noise of the main market receded, replaced by a low hum, a resonant thrum that seemed to vibrate from the very stones of the structure . The light here was softer, a warm amber glow that emanated from strategically placed crystal formations. The air, while still thick with various aromas, was less overwhelming, carrying a faint, underlying note of something metallic and sharp, like ozone.
Inside, the excess was more refined, more insidious. Instead of culinary delights, the stalls displayed rare artefacts, shimmering silks woven from moonlight, and vials filled with liquids that swirled with captured starlight. A being of pure, incandescent fat, clad in silken robes, presided over a stall piled high with shimmering jewels. He turned his enormous head, his features a grotesque parody of human joy, and a smile that revealed rows of tiny, needle-like teeth split his face.
"Welcome, travellers, lost souls," the being purred , his voice like the grinding of gemstones. "Come, feast your eyes, and perhaps, your very being."
Aurora ignored him, her attention drawn to a stall at the far end, where a figure shrouded in deep violet robes sat behind a meagre collection of items. They were simple things: a tarnished silver locket, a handful of dried herbs tied with black string, a faded, hand-drawn map. Yet, a strange energy pulsed from them, a quiet hum that resonated with the Fae-Forged Blade at Aurora's hip.
As they neared, the robed figure raised their head. Beneath the cowl, their face was smooth, ageless, framed by a cascade of silver hair. Pale lavender eyes, impossibly ancient and filled with a sorrow that seemed to stretch back through millennia, fixed on Aurora . Isolde Varga.
"The Seer," Eva gasped, a tremor in her voice.
Isolde’s gaze remained on Aurora. “The threads of fate are tangled, child. You seek answers in a place that thrives on forgetting.” Her voice was like the chiming of distant bells, ethereal and precise.
Aurora’s heart hammered against her ribs. This was it. The reason she’d endured the stomach -churning journey through the rift. "I need to know about the Veil," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "The rifts. They're widening."
Isolde’s lips curved into a fractional, enigmatic smile. "The Veil thins when the world forgets the balance. When indulgence blinds the eye." She picked up a small, obsidian shard from her stall, its surface reflecting no light. "The echoes of this place ripple outwards. They weaken the boundaries."
"We saw the signs," Eva interjected, her usual bravado strained. "The wrongness. The way shadows… twist."
Nyx shifted, their form shrinking as if sensing a subtle danger . "This realm feeds on oblivion. Yet, it also births… opportunities."
Isolde’s lavender eyes flickered towards Nyx, a brief, almost imperceptible softening of her ancient gaze. “The Shade who remembers the touch of starlight. You tread a dangerous path, one between worlds.” She turned back to Aurora . "You carry a shard of a broken heart, do you not?"
Aurora’s hand instinctively went to the Heartstone Pendant. It had been given to her by a stranger, a cryptic message attached, mentioning a portal and a desperate need. It pulsed faintly against her skin, a familiar warmth . "The pendant?"
"It glows near the passage," Isolde confirmed, her voice barely a whisper . "A beacon in the labyrinth. But the labyrinth is guarded. Its master enjoys games with mortals."
Suddenly, the air seemed to thicken, the warm amber light of Dymas dimming as if a colossal shadow had fallen over the realm. A guttural roar, amplified by the strange acoustics of the pavilion, echoed from the entrance. Four hulking figures, their skin the colour of dried blood, their bodies covered in rippling muscle and adorned with jagged, bone-like armour, blocked the entrance to the pavilion. Their eyes, small and black as obsidian chips, gleamed with malicious intent. They wielded crude, cleaver-like weapons that dripped with a viscous, dark fluid.
"It seems," Isolde stated, her voice unnervingly calm, "the master of this domain takes an interest in our conversation."
Aurora snapped the Fae-Forged Blade free of its sheath. The moonsilver hissed, a faint luminescence blooming around it in the dimming light. Eva drew a concealed dagger, her face a mask of grim determination. Nyx’s shadowy form began to stretch and writhe, ready to dissipate into the encroaching darkness.
The largest of the brutes, a scarred monstrosity with tusks protruding from its lower jaw, took a step forward, its weapon raised. "Prince Belphegor welcomes you," it rumbled, its voice a grating growl. "But only as guests of honour. For the evening's main course."