AI A shimmering distortion hung in the air, a tear in the Veil. Aurora pushed through the weakness in reality, the air around her shifting from the crisp autumn chill of Richmond Park to something warm and cloying, thick with the scent of fermenting fruit. The Heartstone Pendant, a deep crimson against her delivery uniform, beat a slow rhythm against her chest, a faint inner glow pulsing with each thrum. Nyx, a shadow in her periphery, flowed in behind her, their form solidifying into a tall, gaunt silhouette with faintly glowing violet eyes. Isolde, silver hair a cascade down her back, stepped through last, her pale lavender eyes scanning the new landscape.
"This is Dymas," Aurora breathed, the name a whisper on her tongue. Her gaze swept across the vista. Instead of the familiar grey London sky, a warm amber bathed the sprawling vineyards. Grapes, plump and purple, hung heavy on the vines, shimmering with an unearthly luminescence. The air hummed with a low, resonant note, a vibration that resonated in her bones. It felt like standing inside a wine cellar the size of a city, the subtle sweetness of ripening fruit overwhelming her senses.
"A realm of excess," Nyx's voice, a whisper carried on the wind, ghosted beside her ear. "The Prince of Gluttony holds court here."
The path beneath their feet was not earth, but a compacted, reddish-brown soil, strangely soft, like walking on crushed velvet . Giant, gnarled trees, their bark a mosaic of greens and browns, dotted the landscape. Their leaves, fanned out like exotic feathers, filtered the amber light into dappled patterns on the ground. She caught a glint of something in the distance – a structure , built from what looked like enormous, intricate pastries , spiraling upwards. Towers of spun sugar, walls of gingerbread carved with grotesque faces, entire roofs shingled with candied fruit.
"Incredible," Aurora muttered, her eyes wide . She reached out, her fingers brushing against a particularly vibrant cluster of grapes. The skin felt cool, almost damp, and a faint sweetness lingered on her fingertips.
Isolde moved with an ethereal grace, leaving no footprints on the velvety soil. "The bounty here is... unnatural," she murmured. Her gaze fixed on one of the ornate pastry structures. "A feast without end."
They followed a winding path between the colossal grapevines, the air growing heavier, richer with every step. The hum intensified, becoming a chorus of low whispers, like a thousand mouths murmuring in delight. Aurora realized it wasn't just the wind or the environment; these sounds had a source. She strained her ears, trying to discern words from the gentle cacophony , but it was nothing more than an indistinct murmur, a constant background of soft satisfaction.
The path opened into a clearing, a true garden of earthly delights. Or perhaps, otherworldly delights. Here, the fruit trees grew not just grapes, but fruits she had never seen before – colossal berries bursting with juice, their skins shimmering with iridescent colours; melons the size of small pumpkins, their rinds carved with flowing, organic patterns; vibrant, exotic flowers with petals that unfurled like silken ribbons, releasing intoxicating perfumes. The ground was littered with fallen fruit, some half-eaten, oozing sugary pulp, attracting strange, iridescent insects that buzzed with a low purr.
Aurora spotted a small, dark red fruit, shaped like a teardrop, lying near her foot. It pulsed faintly, like a tiny heart. Curiosity overriding caution, she knelt and picked it up. Its skin was smooth, almost sensuous, and warm to the touch. A faint, almost imperceptible warmth spread from the fruit into her palm.
"Do not sample the local fare, Rory," Nyx warned, their voice devoid of emotion . "It ensnares as much as it nourishes."
She hesitated, then placed the fruit back on the ground. A subtle disappointment pricked at her. Everything here was a temptation, a challenge to moderation.
Further into the clearing, the whispers grew clearer. She could make out individual voices now, speaking in a low, reverent tone, punctuated by sighs of contentment. They passed a group of figures, shrouded in long, simple robes, their faces obscured by deep hoods. They knelt before a towering fruit tree, each holding a wooden bowl, catching the golden nectar that dripped from a split fruit. They didn't seem to notice the trio, consumed by their silent ritual.
"Helbound souls," Isolde explained, her voice soft . "Contracted to serve the Prince's desires."
A vast table appeared through a gap in the trees, stretching as far as she could see, laden with an unimaginable feast. Platters piled high with roasted meats, sauces glistening like molten jewels, bowls overflowing with vibrant, exotic vegetables, and pastries artfully arranged into edible sculptures. The air here was thick with the scent of spices and rich cooking, a savoury counterpoint to the sweetness of the vineyards. The sounds multiplied – the clinking of cutlery, the soft murmuring of conversations, the occasional burst of appreciative laughter.
They kept to the shadows at the edge of the clearing, unnoticed in the revelry. Dymas was a world of consumption, not observation.
Suddenly, a massive, ornate fountain came into view, at the center of the feasting hall. Instead of water, a constant flow of rich, dark chocolate streamed from the mouth of a grinning gargoyle, cascading into a vast basin. Children, their faces smeared with chocolate, splashed and played in the sweet liquid, their squeals of delight echoing across the space.
Aurora felt a strange pull, a desire to join them, to taste the abundance, to simply lose herself in the sheer sensory overload of the place. She gripped the Fae-Forged Blade at her hip, the moonsilver cool against her fingers, a small tether to her mission.
"It is designed to overwhelm," Nyx observed. "To drown the senses in pleasure."
They moved deeper, towards the largest and most flamboyant building they had seen yet. It rose like a magnificent wedding cake, layers of intricate sugarwork and candied fruits, adorned with a riot of edible flowers. Two enormous doors, crafted from what appeared to be dark chocolate and studded with glittering sugared jewels, stood slightly ajar. From within, the sounds of a vibrant celebration, music played on instruments she couldn't identify, drifted out.
"The Prince's court," Isolde stated, her lavender eyes fixed on the entrance . "Our destination."