AI The sensation of crossing the Veil felt less like walking through a door and more like pushing through a membrane of freezing oil. Aurora gasped, her lungs seizing as the cold pressure snapped away, replaced instantly by a humid, cloying warmth . She stumbled, boots finding purchase on soft, yielding earth.
Her hand flew to her chest. The Heartstone pendant burned against her sternum, its crimson pulse visible even through her shirt, beating in a frantic rhythm that matched her own heart. She gripped the silver chain, steadying her breath, and looked up.
The sky burned a bruised, wealthy amber, devoid of a sun yet universally bright. It cast everything in a sepia wash, stealing the vibrancy of true color and replacing it with the gold of old varnish.
Beside her, a pool of darkness elongated and rose from the ground. Nyx coalesced into their solid form, a silhouette of black static cut from the universe, towering at over six feet. Violet eyes ignited within the shadow of a face, scanning the horizon.
"Dymas," Nyx whispered within the mind of everyone present, the voice sounding like dry leaves skittering over pavement. "The realm of the insatiable."
Isolde stepped through the rift behind them. The Half-Fae looked untouched by the transit, her silver hair spilling down to her waist like liquid mercury. She surveyed the landscape, her pale lavender eyes narrowing in distaste. Where her feet touched the loamy soil, the grass refused to bend, leaving no trace of her passage.
"It stinks of rot and sugar," Isolde murmured, pulling her robes tighter. "A compost heap masquerading as a garden."
Aurora drew the Fae-Forged blade from her belt. The moonsilver leaf-shaped dagger felt reassuringly icy in the suffocating heat. Its faint luminescence battled the oppressive amber glare as she took point.
"We find the anchor and we leave," Aurora said, her voice tight . "Stay close."
They stood at the edge of a sprawling vineyard that defied logic. Grapevines thick as pythons twisted around trellises made of polished bone. The leaves were the size of shields, sweating a sticky, sweet-smelling resin that dripped onto the path. The silence here had weight ; it wasn't empty, but heavy, like a held breath before a scream.
Aurora led them onto the main path. The air tasted of fermentation, a thick slurry of wine and yeast that coated the back of her throat.
"Do not stray from the center of the track," Nyx advised, their form becoming incorporeal for a moment to flow over a protruding root before solidifying again. "The flora here is... enthusiastic."
Aurora eyed a cluster of grapes hanging near her head. Each orb was the size of a swollen fist, the skin translucent and pulsing with purple veins. A low hum emanated from the cluster, a vibration she could feel in her teeth.
"They look ready to burst," Aurora noted, stepping carefully around a puddle of viscous red liquid that looked suspiciously unlike grape juice.
"They are fed well," Isolde said, her gaze fixed on the roots of the nearest vine. The soil there churned sluggishly. "The soil in this realm is not earth. It is appetite."
They pushed deeper. The vineyard gave way to an orchard of trees with bark that resembled cured meat, peeling in greasy strips. Fruits hung from the boughs—pears of spun gold, apples that gleamed like polished rubies, and other shapes that had no earthly analogue, glistening with dew that smelled of expensive perfume.
Aurora wiped sweat from her forehead with her left wrist, the crescent scar gleaming white against her flushed skin. The heat pressed against her temples. A profound , gnawing hunger woke in her gut, sharp and sudden. Her mouth watered as she looked at a low-hanging pomegranate, split open to reveal seeds that sparkled like garnets.
She halted. The desire to reach out, to snap the fruit from the bough and crush it against her teeth, was physical, a magnetic pull jerking her hand upward.
Isolde’s hand clamp around her wrist. The Seer’s grip was surprisingly strong, her fingers cool and dry.
"Do not," Isolde commanded, the lyrical quality of her voice hardening into steel. "To eat of Dymas is to become part of the menu. The hunger you feel is not yours."
Aurora blinked, the trance shattering. She yanked her hand back, revulsion curling in her stomach . "I wasn't... I didn't even realize I was moving."
"That is the nature of the trap," Nyx whispered. The Shade drifted closer to the tree. They extended a hand of coalesced smoke toward the fruit. As the shadow touched the pomegranate, the fruit shrieked—a high, human sound of alarm—and retracted higher into the branches, the leaves shivering violently.
Aurora tightened her grip on the moonsilver dagger. "Great. Screaming fruit. Exactly what I needed today."
"Prince Belphegor prefers his ingredients lively," Nyx remarked, the violet eyes narrowing . "We are visible here. The amber light leaves no place to hide."
"We aren't hiding," Aurora said, forcing confidence into her tone. She marched past the shivering tree. "We're trekking."
The path widened, paved now with stones that looked like oversized molars . Ahead, the architecture of the realm began to intrude on the garden. Spires of amber crystal pierced the sky, connected by bridges of woven gold. The structures looked organic, grown rather than built, swelling and bulging like tumors.
A sound reached them—a wet, rhythmic tearing noise, accompanied by the clatter of silverware and the dull roar of distant conversation.
"The kitchens?" Aurora asked, keeping her voice low.
"Or the trough," Isolde corrected. She paused, tilting her head. "The Veil is thin here, torn by the weight of their consumption. That is why the pendant burns."
Aurora looked down. The Heartstone was frantic, the heat searing through the fabric of her shirt. She lifted the pendant. It pulled to the east, toward a dense thicket of hedge maze that bordered the golden structures.
"This way," Aurora directed.
They moved toward the hedge. The leaves here were sharp, serrated edges of copper and brass that chimed in the hot wind. The entrance to the maze loomed , a darkly gaping maw in the metal foliage.
As they stepped across the threshold, the temperature spiked. The smell of roasting meat became overpowering, rich and heavy with spices—star anise, cinnamon, and something metallic, like blood on a hot skillet.
Nyx stopped abruptly, their form flickering like a candle in a draft. "Wardens."
Aurora froze. "Where?"
"Not Wardens of the Veil," Nyx clarified, their voice dropping to a subsonic vibration . "Keepers of the Grove. Listen."
Aurora strained her ears. Beneath the wind and the distant feasting, she heard heavy thuds. The ground trembled rhythmically. Something massive was moving through the maze, unseen on the other side of the copper hedge.
Isolde stepped behind Aurora. "Iron and grease," she hissed. "It has no soul to see."
"Does it bleed?" Aurora asked, raising the Fae blade.
"If it eats, it bleeds," Nyx said.
The hedge to their left exploded inward.
Shower of copper leaves rained down like shrapnel. Aurora threw herself into a roll, coming up in a crouch. Through the breach in the hedge, a monstrosity lumbered into the amber light.
It was a construct of gluttony—a towering figure nearly ten feet tall, its body a patchwork of stitched leather and iron bands, distended and swollen. Where a face should be, a single, vertical mouth split the head, lined with rows of rusted iron teeth. One hand ended in a cleaver the size of a car door; the other grasped a net of dripping chains.
The creature roared, a sound of grinding metal and wet gurgles, and the smell of rancid butter blasted over them.
"Spread out!" Aurora yelled.
She darted to the right, boots sliding on the molar-paved path. The cleaver swung down, shattering the stones where she had stood a second before, sending tooth-fragments flying like shrapnel.
Nyx dissolved. The Shade became a smear of darkness on the ground, sliding under the creature's legs. The monster stomped, confused, crushing only stone. Nyx reformed on its back, a distinct shadow clinging to the leather hide, and plunged a hand of semi-solid darkness into the stitching of the creature’s neck.
The construct thrashed, reaching back to tear at the shadow, but there was nothing solid to grab.
Isolde stood perfectly still amidst the chaos. Her eyes went white, the lavender iris swallowed by the glow of sight. She raised a hand, palm open.
"Your hunger is a cage," Isolde intoned. The air around the creature warped.
Vines from the nearby trellis shot forward, responding to the Fae magic. They weren't just plants; they were the hunger of the realm made manifest. The vines lashed around the construct's limbs, not dragging it down, but seeking to feed . The python-thick stems bored into the leather, seeking the fluids within.
The creature shrieked, the sound vibrating in Aurora's bones.
"Aurora, the knee!" Nyx’s voice carried on the wind.
Aurora didn't hesitate. She sprinted forward, ducking under the wild swing of the chain net. She channeled her momentum, sliding onto her knees across the slick stones. As she passed the creature’s massive, iron-shod leg, she slashed outward with the Fae-Forged blade.
The moonsilver bit deep. It didn't just cut leather; it severed the binding magic. A hiss of escaping steam and black bile erupted from the wound. The leg buckled.
The construct crashed down, shaking the ground so hard Aurora nearly lost her footing as she scrambled upright.
"Move," Aurora gasped, not waiting to see if it would rise . "While it's down."
They bolted through the gap the monster had made in the hedge, sprinting into the deeper gloom of the maze. The amber light couldn't penetrate the dense copper canopy here, casting the path in jagged, metallic shadows.
They ran until the sounds of the thrashing construct faded, replaced by the heavy, rhythmic thumping of their own blood in their ears. Aurora leaned against a wall of woven brass leaves, gasping for air. The air here was cooler, but the smell was worse—stagnant and old.
Isolde brushed a stray lock of silver hair from her face, her breathing even, though her eyes were wide. "That was a Butcher. A servant of the lower kitchens. If it was here, we are close to the processing grounds."
Nyx checked the perimeter, their form slightly indistinct, edges blurring from the exertion of maintaining solidity in a high-magic realm. "The pendant, Aurora. Check it."
Aurora pulled the Heartstone from her shirt. The pulsing had stopped. The stone was dark, cold to the touch.
"It's out," she said. "It stopped pulsing."
Nyx moved closer, violet eyes scanning the dead gem. "It reacts to portals. If it is dormant, we are not near an exit."
"Or we're too deep in," Aurora countered. She looked down the twisting metal corridor of the maze. "Or the portal isn't a place."
"A riddle?" Isolde asked, tilting her head. "I detest riddles I do not craft."
"No," Aurora said, pointing to the ground.
At the center of the junction, the molar-stones were arranged in a spiral pattern. In the very center, the stones were missing, revealing a hole that dropped into absolute darkness. No amber light reflected from it. It was a throat in the earth.
"The pendant led us to the mouth," Aurora realized. "We don't walk out of Dymas."
She stepped to the edge of the pit. A draft of cold, sterile air blew up—the smell of the void between worlds.
"We have to be swallowed," she finished, looking back at her companions.
Nyx drifted to the edge, looking down into the abyss. "Fitting."
Isolde frowned, smoothing the front of her dress. "Disgusting."
"Necessary," Aurora said. She sheathed the glowing dagger. The darkness below seemed to invite them, a stark contrast to the overwhelming gluttony above. "On three?"