Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0G2NV2S3E8WDVYWDRP10M

Aurora crouched at the threshold, heartstone pendant pressing against her palm. The silver chain coiled around her wrist like a restless snake. Ahead, the standing stones of basalt formed a jagged arch, their tops dissolving into faint distortion—The Veil itself, wavering in the amber dusk. She tasted iron on her tongue. Nyx slipped through the arch beside her, a ripple of shadow solidifying into a tall shape. Faint violet light pulsed in their eyes. They paused midstride, shoulders shifting like smoke caught in a breeze. This realm stank of ripeness and rot. Isolde hovered at Aurora’s shoulder, silver hair brushing the air. Pale lavender eyes tracked the shifting sky. She whispered a string of half-words, and the ground trembled in answer. Aurora stood. “Let’s go.” She pocketed the pendant. Moonlight glimmered on the Fae-forged blade strapped to her belt. She stepped forward, toes sliding on obsidian tiles that cooled her skin. Beyond the arch lay a courtyard of twisted vines and fruit-laden trees. Orbs the size of skulls hung low, their skins dappled with veins of crimson. A slow wind rattled branches, releasing spores like drifting snow. Aurora inhaled, lungs tightening with wonder. Nyx hovered near a fruit. They reached out a hand. Darkness pooled along their fingers and seeped into the rind. The fungus under their touch retracted like frightened insects. They drew back, silhouette flickering. Isolde moved among the trunks, fingertips grazing ancient runes carved into bark. “They speak of feasting,” she murmured. Bark flaked away under her touch, revealing symbols of horns and chalices. She traced a chalice with one nail. The symbol glowed, as if remembering its purpose. A low rumble rose from beneath the courtyard’s cracked floor. Aurora’s boots tapped in warning. The obsidian tiles shifted, folding into jagged ridges that plunged into dark hollows. Dust rose in pale clouds. She drew the blade free, its moonsilver edge humming against her palm. Nyx braced on the lip of the chasm. “A trap,” they whispered. Their voice drifted like a sigh through the trees. Leaves shivered. Fruit thumped to the ground in pairs, rolling toward the edge. One split open on the stone, oozing seed-slime that hissed against the tile. Aurora lunged. She sheathed the blade and kicked the mass away before it could burn. Sticky strands clung to her boots. Isolde’s lips curved. “They guard their harvest.” She stooped and pocketed a seedpod the size of her fist. Powdered bark sprinkled from her robes. Aurora scanned the walls. They leaned inward, carved with twisting banquet scenes: beasts tearing at flesh, humans ingesting grapes by the handful. Veins of gold leaf threaded through the grooves. The depictions shifted when she blinked. Faces melded between predator and prey. A single tray held a sculpted fruit bowl. The fruit pulsed, as though it housed a beating heart. Aurora’s fingers itched to touch it. She stepped into reach, but Nyx caught her elbow. Silence snapped. The courtyard swallowed sound. Even the spores halted their drift. A deep vibration thrummed from the sky. The amber light flickered, darkening at the edges. Isolde straightened, voice a distant bell. “Belphegor’s domain feels alive.” Aurora swallowed. “We came for the shrine.” She turned to the arch. Beyond lay a pavilion carved from bone-white marble. They skirted the orchard’s edge, boots sinking into loam soft as velvet. Vines curled around shattered columns. Petals bloomed where metal should lie. Each blossom glowed faintly, like captured stars. They stepped beneath the pavilion’s roof—an open framework of bones interlaced with silver filigree. Ribs arched overhead. At the center, a dais rose in five tiers, each carved with writhing mouths. Atop it lay a basin of molten glass, still warm, reflecting an upside-down sky. Aurora crouched at the dais and reached for the basin’s edge. Heat licked her fingers. She grimaced, her breath hissing between teeth. Nyx drifted closer. Their form shimmered. “Souls, bound and stirred.” They tapped the glass. Tiny faces flickered beneath the surface—silent mouths shaped into pleas or laughter. They vanished as quickly. Isolde circled the dais, voice soft. “The basin once held Belphegor’s first feast. The offer of pleasure and pain.” Her fingers brushed a mouth carved in the marble. It opened, swallowing her hand to the wrist then spat out a handful of white ash. Aurora coughed. She scooped the ash in a cupped palm. It sifted through her fingers like dust. “Evidence.” A distant crash echoed. The ground quivered. From beyond the pavilion came rolling thunder—a drumbeat syncopated with voices. Choirs singing. Aurora stood. She signalled. Blade drawn. They moved deeper into shadow, leaving the dais behind. The path narrowed between walls of living crystal—hexagonal pillars that hummed against each other like tuning forks. Light bent through them. The bunsen of sound shifted pitch as they passed. Words welled in Aurora’s mind. She shook her head, blinking away whispers in tongues older than mortal memory. Nyx pressed close, figure eddying. “The Veil thins here.” Isolde studied the crystals. “Time breathes differently.” She tapped one with a knuckle. It cracked, sending ripples through the field. A flash of memory—Aurora standing on a Brighton pier, laughter behind her—flickered in her vision. She jerked upright. Leaves of shade drifted across the corridor’s floor. Aurora slid her boot forward, heart pounding. She scanned the walls, dark shapes moving just beyond sight. A shattered arch yawned ahead. Smoke curled from its columns like slow dancers. Beyond it rose a chamber of molten oil and piled fruit so vast it formed walls. Grapes threaded into massive braids, apples suspended midair, oranges stacked like towers. The fruit glowed with inner flame. Nyx recoiled. Shadow peeled from their form, seeking cover in the cracks. “Abundance made flesh.” Isolde stepped forward, voice hushed. “And the curse it bears.” She held up the ash, now swirling into motes of light. They drifted toward the fruit. Bubbles surfaced on the nearest orange; it split open, letting a clear fluid leak. The fluid cooled on the stone floor, then dissolved into nothing. Aurora advanced, blade held low. She reached out to the braids of grapes. They shimmered, translucent. Each orb contained a flicker of memory—a joyous feast, a scream, a lover’s kiss. She recoiled, vision swimming. Nyx wrapped a hand around her shoulder. “Your scar throbs.” They tilted Aurora’s wrist. The crescent mark glowed faintly. The pendant at her throat thrummed. She swallowed the knot in her throat. “I feel it.” The scar pulsed, echoing the heartstone’s beat. Isolde traced one grape with a fingertip. It ruptured. A spurt of black seed skittered across the stone. The entire pile trembled. Bowls toppled. Fruits cascaded like a waterfall, rattling the cavern. Aurora lunged, stabbing the nearest heap with her blade. Moonsilver sliced through flesh without effort. But the fruit reassembled behind her, knitting the wound closed. She slashed again—same result. She yanked the blade free. Metal rang. The fruit paused mid-fall, then shattered into a rain of sparks and fragments that clattered at their feet. Silence closed in like a lid. The amber glow faded to molten gold. The leaves of shade retreated to the walls. The Veil’s distortion rippled, and the arch behind them vanished. Aurora let the pendant rest against her chest. It pulsed once, then stilled. She lifted the blade and wiped it on her jeans, watching droplets of sap drip away. Isolde exhaled. “The heartstone anchors us.” She brushed ash from her skirt and slid the remainder into a pouch. “Without it, we’d become part of the feast.” Nyx extended a shadowy hand toward the next arch. Runes carved in twisting script crawled along its stone. “Beyond lies the heart of Dymas. If we endure.” Aurora squared her shoulders. No spark of fear flickered in her bright blue eyes. She slid the blade home and reached for the arch. Fingers brushed cool stone. The world shimmered. Their reflections wavered. They stepped forward together.