AI A shimmering distortion wavered behind the crumbling stone archway, humming like a forgotten beehive. Rory swallowed, the faint crimson glow of the <item id="2001">Heartstone Pendant</item> warming her breastbone as she extended a hand towards the anomaly.
Nyx drifted through the stone, less a silhouette and more a tear in the fabric of the air, their voice a whisper across the threshold. "Beyond this point, the mortal coil sheds its weight ."
Isolde, light as thistledown, peered through the shimmering curtain. "A new song awaits those with ears to hear it." She left no footprints on the dusty ground as she moved closer to Rory.
"Alright, everyone knows the plan," Rory said, pushing down the prickle of unease. "Isolde, you lead. Nyx, you scout for trouble. I'm right behind her."
The Fae Grove, nestled in its pocket dimension, felt utterly alien for all its familiar Richmond Park leaves and soil. This archway, however, promised something else entirely. The air shifted and rippled with unseen currents, smelling vaguely of ozone and something akin to burnt sugar .
Isolde stepped through the distortion first, her silver hair catching the strange light. The shimmering barrier parted like water, then closed behind her.
"After you, Rory," Nyx murmured, their shadowy form already halfway through. They waited on the other side, an impossibly tall, dark sentinel against the glowing backdrop of the next realm.
Rory took a deep breath, the scent of fresh rain and damp earth from the Grove still clinging to her, a last anchor. She stepped through.
The world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of warm amber, then solidified.
She stood on a path of dark, polished stone, smooth as river glass. Overhead, the sky was a perpetual twilight, painted in hues of deep orange and gold. Enormous trees, unlike any she had ever seen, rose on either side, their bark twisting upwards in intricate , luminous patterns. Their leaves, a riot of crimson and violet, rustled with a sound like distant chimes. The air, though warm, carried a faint, sweet tang, heavy and intoxicating.
"Welcome to Dymas," Isolde said, her voice soft, yet it carried clearly in the strangely still air. "The realm of Gluttony."
Rory took in the surroundings, her eyes wide. Below them, valleys stretched out, carpeted in what looked like vibrant, living tapestry . She saw sprawling vineyards, their grapes glowing with an inner light, and orchards laden with fruit of impossible colours. The air itself seemed to vibrate with a low hum, a symphony of unseen life.
"This is… incredible," Rory breathed, a sense of awe washing over her . She knew about Dymas from the codex, but experiencing it was another matter entirely. It was beautiful, but a beauty that hinted at a deeper, more dangerous excess.
Nyx flickered into a more solid form beside her. "The magic here is… different. More pervasive."
"Indeed," Isolde replied, her gaze sweeping across the landscape . "Feasts happen constantly. Power resonates with every indulgence."
Rory felt the <item id="2001">Heartstone Pendant</item> pulse a little stronger against her skin. It hummed in time with the very air of Dymas, a low, resonant thrum.
The path twisted deeper into the strange forest. The ground beneath their feet pulsed faintly, a subtle vibration that Rory felt more than heard. Strange, luminescent fungi grew in clusters along the path, casting soft, ethereal light. Some resembled delicate, spiralling chandeliers, others mimicked shimmering coral.
They passed beneath an archway formed by two colossal trees whose branches had intertwined over centuries, their luminous bark providing a natural canopy. Beyond it, the forest floor opened slightly , revealing a small, babbling brook. Its water wasn't clear, but a rich, dark burgundy, thick and viscous, yet it flowed with surprising speed. Strange, bioluminescent fish with golden scales darted through its depths . Rory swore she could smell red wine, rich and potent, rising from the brook.
"Is that… wine?" she asked, a knot forming in her stomach .
Isolde smiled faintly. "Potent indeed. A draught of Dymas."
Nyx stepped to the edge of the brook, a part of their shadowy form dipping into the liquid. It shimmered around them, then receded as if repelled. "It holds a… persuasive energy. Addictive."
Rory shivered despite the warmth . This place, for all its beauty, was a gilded cage, designed to ensnare. She thought of the description of Dymas, a place of excess. Gluttony wasn't just about food and drink. It was about insatiable desire .
They skirted the brook, following the winding path that led downwards, towards the heart of the valley. The chimes of the crimson leaves grew louder, accompanied now by a distant, rhythmic clang. A smell, rich and savory, drifted up from below, making Rory's stomach unexpectedly growl. It was a complex aroma of roasted meats, sweet spices, and something she couldn't quite place, but it was undeniably delicious .
"A feast is underway," Isolde announced, her pale lavender eyes fixed on the horizon . "Prince Belphegor celebrates his latest conquest."
Rory tightened her grip on the small Fae-forged blade Isolde had given her. It felt cold and solid in her hand, a stark contrast to the cloying warmth of Dymas. "Conquest? What kind of conquest?"
"Souls," Nyx whispered, their voice carrying a faint sorrow . "Mortal souls, offered in contract for a taste of this realm's perpetual bounty."
The path opened into a clearing. Before them lay a city. Not a city of stone and mortar, but of living architecture . Buildings twisted upwards like giant, edible sculptures, crafted from what looked like spun sugar and candied fruits , yet radiating with an inherent strength. Ribbons of light, like liquid honey, flowed through channels carved into the structures. Grand, sweeping bridges, formed from what seemed to be crystalline caramel, spanned chasms between towering edifices.
The clang she had heard grew into a symphony of clattering dishes and boisterous laughter. A massive market square bustled with activity. Hel-bound souls, recognizable by the faint, greyish pallor of their skin and the subtle slump of their shoulders, moved amongst demonic beings of various shapes and sizes. Demons with eyes like burning embers sampled exotic fruits, while others with multiple limbs carried platters piled high with glistening delicacies.
In the centre of the square, a colossal fountain spouted, not water, but a constant stream of liquid gold that cascaded into a wide basin. Around it, mortals, their faces flushed with a dizzying delight, scooped up the precious liquid in ornate goblets. Their laughter was loud, bordering on hysterical, their movements increasingly clumsy.
Isolde paused at the edge of the clearing, her silver hair shimmering. "Belphegor's court lies beyond that central pavilion. We must be subtle."
"Subtlety?" Rory muttered, looking at the riot of colours and sounds. "Here? That'll be a challenge."
A hulking , porcine demon, with ruby-red skin and short tusks, lumbered past them, its belly distended. It held a silver platter overflowing with roasted game birds, their skins lacquered to a perfect sheen. The aroma was overwhelming. Rory’s stomach rumbled again, louder this time. She felt a strange pull, a longing to taste just one of those succulent birds, to drink from the golden fountain. The very air was laced with temptation.
"The allure is strong," Nyx observed, their voice a low warning . "This place feeds on desire ."
Rory dug her fingernails into her palm, trying to focus. She had to resist. She was here for answers, not indulgence.
They moved slowly , blending into the edges of the crowd. Rory kept her head down, trying to appear inconspicuous, but her bright blue eyes drank in every detail. She saw mortals, once probably regular people, now transformed by the realm. Their eyes held a desperate hunger, even as they stuffed themselves, their clothes stained with various juices. They laughed a little too loud, celebrated a little too hard, their joy tinged with a tragic, desperate edge.
A small child, no older than seven, with shockingly pale skin and wide, vacant eyes, held a candied apple the size of its head. Its small hands trembled as it brought the fruit to its mouth, taking a bite that seemed to consume its entire face . Rory’s heart ached. This was what Gluttony did. It consumed.
Then she heard it, amidst the cacophony . A single, clear note, like a harp string plucked in a quiet room. It was incongruous, out of place, yet utterly captivating.
"That way," Isolde said, pointing towards a smaller, less ornate structure off to the side, away from the main pavilion. Its walls were not made of spun sugar, but of dark, polished wood, simple and elegant in comparison to the surrounding excess. It had wrought iron doors, open now, revealing a glimpse of soft, flickering candlelight within.
"What is that?" Rory asked, squinting.
"A performance," Isolde replied. "Sometimes, even in Dymas, subtlety finds its stage."
As they neared the building, the music grew clearer. It wasn't a harp, but a single, haunting voice, accompanied by a lute, singing a mournful, old melody. The language was ancient, but the emotion was universal. Sorrow. Longing.
Inside, a small crowd had gathered. They weren't the boisterous, over-indulgent figures of the market square. These were still and silent, their faces etched with a different kind of hunger. They listened with rapt attention to the lone performer.
A woman, cloaked in deep crimson, sat on a low stool in the centre of the room. Her hair, the same straight shoulder-length black as Rory's, framed a face that looked impossibly tired, yet held a fierce, defiant beauty. The lute lay across her lap, and her bright blue eyes, so like Rory's own, were closed as she sang.
Rory felt a jolt shoot through her, an electric recognition. She knew that voice . She knew that face . It was her mother. Jennifer Carter. But how? Her mother was on Earth, safe in Cardiff.
The song ended. The woman opened her eyes, and they were filled with a profound sadness. For a brief, terrifying moment, her gaze landed on Rory, sweeping past her as if she were a ghost. Then she bowed her head, and the hushed room erupted into applause. Not the wild, unthinking applause of the market, but a quiet, appreciative murmur .
Before Rory could process what she had seen, a figure moved from the shadows near the back of the performance hall. It was tall and slender, draped in robes the colour of twilight, its face obscured by a deep hood. As it moved, a familiar warmth pulsed from it, mirroring the <item id="2001">Heartstone Pendant</item> against Rory's chest. The unknown benefactor. The one who had given Rory the pendant. The one who sent her into this nightmare.
The hooded figure approached the singer, extending a hand. A dark, impossibly long finger uncurled from within the sleeve, and placed a single, shimmering golden coin on the lute. Then it turned, its hood still obscuring its face, and began to make its way towards the exit, directly towards them.