Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0AF55SKNR61MG6JYH2HTM

The crimson gem against Aurora's sternum thrummed with heat. She paused before the shimmering distortion hanging between two ancient oak trees in Richmond Park. The air rippled like heat haze off tarmac, yet the London chill bit at her exposed neck. Her breath plumed in the grey afternoon light. Nyx coalesced beside her, a humanoid silhouette of living shadow stretching tall against the bark. Faintly glowing violet eyes fixed on the tear in the Veil. The shadow's edges blurred, merging with the darkness beneath the trees. The Heartstone burns hotter. Aurora lifted the chain. The silver bit into her skin. The pulse matched the beat of her own heart, quickening with every second. She tucked the gem beneath her jacket and stepped forward. Cold London air vanished. Humidity wrapped around her like a wet blanket. The grey sky shattered into warm amber light. Gravity shifted, pressing down on her shoulders before lifting away. She stumbled onto soft grass. The ground sponged under her boots. Nyx flowed through the barrier without resistance. The shadow solidified, taking on the height of a man, six feet and two inches of darkness given form. Violet eyes scanned the horizon. The entity's form rippled, adjusting to the density of this realm. Dymas. Aurora straightened her jacket. Her straight shoulder-length black hair stuck to her cheeks. She wiped sweat from her brow. The air smelled of roasted meats, spiced wines, and rotting fruit. Sweetness cloyed at the back of her throat. It coated her tongue. Rows of vines stretched out before them. Grapes hung heavy, bursting with juice, purple skins translucent in the amber glow. Beyond the vineyards, orchards laden with golden apples and pomegranates rolled toward distant hills. The colors saturated her vision, too vivid, too deep. This place breathes. Aurora touched the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. The skin tingled. She drew the Fae-Forged Blade from the sheath at her hip. The moonsilver dagger gleamed cold against the warm light. Its leaf-shaped edge hummed, a low vibration that traveled up her arm. The weapon remained cold, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat. Nyx drifted ahead, feet not touching the ground. Shadows lengthened around them, pooling like ink. The shadow being moved through the tall grass without bending a single blade. Do not touch the fruit. Aurora sheathed the blade. Her bright blue eyes narrowed. She kicked a fallen pomegranate. Red seeds scattered across the grass. They writhed before settling. Tiny mouths opened on the seeds, snapping at the air. Everything here wants to be eaten. Or wants to eat us. They walked deeper into the vineyard. The vines grew thicker here, twisting into shapes that resembled grasping hands. Leaves whispered without wind. Aurora's boots sank into the loam. Each step released a scent of earth and yeast. The amber sky held no sun, yet light poured from everywhere, casting no distinct shadows except for Nyx. A structure emerged from the foliage. A pavilion constructed of white stone and draped with silks the color of blood. Long tables stood set with gold plates and crystal goblets. Food piled high on platters—whole roasted beasts, mountains of bread, cascades of honey. Flies buzzed around the meat in thick clouds. No one sat at the tables. Aurora approached the nearest platter. Steam rose from the meat. The aroma made her stomach clench with hunger, a sudden sharp pain. Saliva flooded her mouth. She gripped the Heartstone through her jacket. The warmth spread down her arm, fighting the compulsion. Nyx hovered over the table. The shadow passed a hand through a loaf of bread. The bread did not disturb. The crust remained intact. Illusion. Or preserved by magic. Aurora moved to the edge of the pavilion. Beyond the columns, a valley opened up. Smoke rose from pits in the distance. Figures moved among the smoke. Humans. They wore rags and carried heavy baskets. Chains bound their wrists. The metal glowed red hot against their skin. Helbound souls. Nyx descended to stand beside her. The whisper voice carried on the heavy air, sounding like wind through dry leaves. Contracts written in blood and hunger. Prince Belphegor demands excess. Aurora watched a figure stumble under the weight of a basket filled with glowing melons. An overseer clad in bronze armor struck the figure with a whip. The crack echoed across the valley. The figure did not cry out. They only reached for a fallen scrap of food. She tightened her grip on the dagger hilt. The cold metal grounded her. Her knuckles turned white. We need the source of the portal. The Stone leads us deeper. The pendant pulsed again, stronger this time. It pulled toward the center of the valley, toward a massive tree growing on a mound of earth. Its leaves were silver, shimmering like the blade at her hip. Roots sprawled out, thick as city pipes, diving into the ground. The bark looked like cured meat. Aurora stepped away from the pavilion. The grass here grew tall, brushing her waist. Insects buzzed, large and iridescent. One landed on her arm. Legs prickled against her skin. She flicked it off. Its wings sparked with static. Nyx flowed over the tall grass. The shadow form rippled, absorbing the light around it. The tree watches. Aurora looked up. The silver leaves did not move, yet she felt the weight of attention. The amber sky darkened slightly above the tree, clouds gathering like bruised flesh. Lightning flashed within the clouds, silent and violet. She walked toward the mound. The ground sloped upward. Her breath came harder in the thick air. The scent of food intensified, mixing with the smell of ozone and sulfur. Her stomach growled. She ignored it. At the base of the tree, a stone altar stood carved with runes. Bowls filled with wine sat upon it. The liquid remained still, reflecting the amber sky. Flies avoided the altar. Aurora reached out. Her fingers hovered over the bowl. Do not drink. Nyx's warning came sharp. Aurora pulled her hand back. She examined the runes. They matched the markings on the Heartstone chain. The silver of the chain matched the silver of the leaves. This binds the rift. She crouched. The dirt here felt warm, vibrating beneath her knees. She placed her palm flat on the earth. The vibration traveled up her arm, settling in her chest. It matched the rhythm of the pendant. Someone comes. Nyx dissolved into a wisp of smoke, slipping into the shadow of the altar. Aurora stood. She turned toward the path leading up the mound. Footsteps crunching on gravel echoed. The sound was heavy, deliberate. A figure emerged from the tree line. Tall, clad in robes woven from grapevines and gold thread. Horns curled from their temples, spiraling back like a ram. They carried a staff topped with a skull of crystal. The skull's jaw hung open. The figure stopped ten paces away. Dark eyes assessed Aurora, lingering on the bulge of the dagger beneath her jacket. The eyes held no white, only endless black. Mortal flesh smells sweet in Dymas. Aurora stood her ground. Her height felt insignificant against the horned figure, yet she locked her knees. She planted her boots in the soft earth. I'm just passing through. The figure laughed. The sound resembled grinding stones. Dust fell from the horns. None pass through without paying the tithe. Hunger demands payment. The Heartstone burned against her skin. Aurora's hand drifted toward her hip. The wind picked up, rustling the silver leaves of the tree. The sound resembled whispering voices. The whispers grew louder. The horned figure raised the staff. The crystal skull glowed with inner light. Violet light spilled from the eye sockets. Show me what you carry. Aurora shifted her weight. Her boots found purchase on the loose soil. She glanced at the shadow of the altar where Nyx hid. The shadow lengthened, creeping toward the figure's feet. The darkness detached itself from the stone. I carry nothing you want. The figure stepped closer. The scent of wine and decay rolled off them. It overwhelmed the smell of the fruit. The robes brushed the grass, leaving no mark. The Stone sings to me. Hand it over. Aurora's fingers brushed the hilt of the Fae-Forged Blade. The cold metal seeped into her skin. She drew a breath. The air tasted of copper. Her lungs burned. Come and take it. The figure's eyes narrowed. The staff lifted higher. Light gathered at the crystal skull's mouth, coalescing into a sphere of energy. The air crackled. Nyx's shadow surged from the ground.