AI The air grew thick, pressing down. Rory felt the pull in her chest, a familiar thrumming from the Heartstone pendant beneath her shirt. The ancient oak standing stones, hunched and moss-covered, pulsed with a faint, inner light, the shimmer of The Veil between them almost visible, like heat rising from tarmac in summer. Nyx, a deeper shadow against the encroaching twilight, glided through first, their form briefly blurring at the threshold. Their barely-there whisper reached Rory.
"After you, mortal."
Rory took a deep breath, the scent of damp earth and something sweet, like overripe fruit, filling her lungs. She stepped between the stones. The world twisted around her. Colours bled into each other, then snapped back into sharper focus, more vibrant than before. The air warmed, a heavy, humid embrace. The silence that had preceded their crossing intensified, no birdsong, no distant traffic hum. Only the quiet rustle of leaves and the soft pad of their own footsteps .
Isolde, her silver hair a luminous waterfall against the deepening gloom , stood on the other side, completely unaffected. She held a gnarled staff that seemed to drink the light, her pale lavender eyes fixed on Rory.
"Welcome to my garden, Aurora," Isolde’s voice, a melodic whisper , brushed Rory’s ears. "A place where time bends like a willow in the wind."
Rory looked around. This was Richmond Park, yet it wasn't. Wildflowers, a riot of colours Rory had never seen, pushed up through the grass, glowing softly . Some petals seemed to shift hues before her eyes, an impossibility, yet undeniably real. Towering trees, their bark like polished obsidian, reached twisting branches skyward, their leaves a deep, impossible violet. The light filtering through them was a soft, perpetual twilight, casting everything in shades of amethyst and emerald. The ground beneath her feet remained soft, a carpet of moss and fallen, luminous leaves.
A low hum vibrated in the air, a deep, resonant tone that seemed to come from the earth itself . Rory felt it in her bones, a soothing, almost hypnotic rhythm. She glanced at Nyx, their shadowy form outlined against a colossal, bioluminescent mushroom, its cap wider than a small car, pulsing with a soft, blue light. Even Nyx seemed… quieter here, less restless.
"The resonance of the Fae," Isolde explained, her voice like the chime of distant bells. "The very breath of this place."
Rory took a cautious step forward, the earth squishing softly under her boots. A cluster of glowing insects, like tiny, dancing lanterns, flitted past her face, leaving trails of golden dust in their wake. She reached out, but they danced away, too quick for her grasp.
"It's… beautiful," Rory breathed, the wonder making her voice a little unsteady . "And… unsettling."
Isolde offered a small, knowing smile, her lips the colour of rose petals. "The Fae Realms are seldom entirely one or the other."
They moved deeper into the grove. The pathway, if it could be called that, was a meandering trail through waist-high ferns that brushed against Rory’s legs, their fronds a shimmering, metallic green. The air grew heavier, thick with the scent of something sweet and cloying, like honey mixed with ozone. Ahead, a pool of water glimmered, reflecting the violet canopy above. Its surface was perfectly still, like polished glass, yet a faint mist rose from it, curling and swirling in intricate patterns.
Rory approached, drawn by an inexplicable urge. The water was not clear but a deep, inky black , and as she peered closer, she saw pinpricks of light dancing within its depths , like distant stars trapped in liquid. She bent down, a hand hovering over the surface. The water felt cold, a deep, bone-chilling cold, despite the warm air.
"Do not touch the Moonpool, Aurora," Isolde's voice was gentle but firm. "Its waters hold reflections of truths best left undisturbed."
Rory pulled her hand back, a shiver running down her spine . The pool still beckoned, its secrets whispering, but Isolde's warning resonated . She stood.
Nyx drifted to the edge of the pool, their shadowy form leaning over its depths . They lowered a hand, their arm passing *into * the water without a ripple. A faint whisper , almost imperceptible, emanated from Nyx. They withdrew their hand, and for a moment, Rory thought she saw a flicker of something in their violet eyes, a fleeting emotion she couldn’t name before it was gone .
"The Shade finds its kin in the shadows," Isolde observed, then turned, her silver hair swaying. "Come. There is more to see."
They continued, the vegetation growing denser, more fantastical. Trees with bark that spiralled like ancient horns, their branches adorned with blossoms that resembled elaborate jewels, each petal a different, luminous colour. The air here was almost syrupy, thick with the intoxicating scent of these strange flowers. Rory felt a light-headedness begin to settle over her, a pleasant haze that made the world feel even more dreamlike.
She caught sight of a creature, a fleeting streak of iridescent scales and translucent wings, darting between the trees. It moved too fast to properly identify, but it left behind a trail of shimmering dust that slowly dissolved into the air. The faint hum in the air intensified, rising and falling like a deep breath.
"What was that?" Rory asked, her voice hushed .
"Only one of the grove’s many inhabitants," Isolde replied, her gaze distant, as if seeing beyond the visible . “Always curious, never truly seen.”
A clearing opened before them, dominated by a magnificent tree. Its trunk was broader than a small house, its roots snaking across the ground like ancient serpents. From its branches hung delicate, crystalline chimes, catching the perpetual twilight and scattering it into a thousand glittering fragments. As a gentle breeze stirred, the chimes sang, a melody of breathtaking purity that seemed to resonate with the hum of the grove, weaving into a complex symphony that filled the air .
Rory closed her eyes, letting the sound wash over her. It was unlike anything she had ever heard, both profoundly melancholic and incredibly hopeful. It felt like the heartbeat of the Fae world, a living, breathing song. She opened her eyes. At the base of the tree, nestled between two colossal roots, was a small, intricately carved wooden table, adorned with bowls of berries the colour of rubies and emeralds, and small, delicate cakes that seemed to shimmer with an inner light .
"A simple offering," Isolde gestured towards the table. “To partake is to accept the grove’s hospitality. And its silence .”
Rory looked at the feast, hesitant. The berries pulsed with a soft glow. The cakes radiated a sweet, irresistible aroma. She felt a profound hunger, not for food, but for the experience, to truly immerse herself here . She reached out, picking up a single ruby-red berry. It was warm to the touch, and as she brought it to her lips, its scent filled her, rich and earthy and sweet. She bit into it. A burst of flavour, unlike any fruit she had ever tasted, exploded on her tongue, filling her with a warm, tingling sensation that spread through her whole body. She felt a lightness, a sense of profound peace.
Nyx, surprisingly, took a small, pale-green cake. Their shadowy fingers absorbed the light from it as they brought it to what would be their mouth. A faint, violet glow emanated from within Nyx for a moment before fading.
"It works to quiet the whispers," Nyx’s voice, for once, held a clearer cadence. "The constant clamour of the in-between."
Rory ate another berry, savouring the taste, the feeling of warmth spreading through her veins. The air, thick though it was, felt easier to breathe now. The low, resonant hum of the grove became a comfortable companion, a lullaby. She felt utterly at peace, suspended in this magical, impossible place, where time truly had no meaning. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. She didn't care. Isolde, a timeless figure, watched them both, her pale lavender eyes full of a wisdom that spanned centuries. She held a small, translucent flower, its petals like spun glass, and inhaled its scent slowly .
"The Fae Grove accepts you," Isolde said, her voice soft, barely breaking the chime-song . "For now."