Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0SRAM396E5218TNHVWBSJ

The air grew thick with an unfamiliar energy as Rory stepped through the shimmering boundary that separated the mortal world from the Fae Grove. Her boots crunched against a carpet of frost-kissed moss, each step releasing a faint, melodic chime that seemed to emanate from the ground itself. Beside her, Silas exhaled sharply, his breath forming crystalline patterns in the air. "Bloody hell," he muttered, eyes wide as he took in their surroundings. "I've been to some strange places in my time, but this..." The grove stretched before them in impossible dimensions. Ancient oaks, their bark silver and smooth as polished marble, rose impossibly high into a sky that seemed both brighter and more distant than the one they'd left behind. Stars twinkled in the daylight, scattered across a lavender canopy that pulsed gently like a living thing. Eva reached out to touch one of the trees, her fingers hovering just above the bark. "It's warm," she whispered, pulling her hand back as if burned. "Like it's breathing." Rory's pendant pulsed against her chest, the crimson stone warming with each step they took deeper into the grove. The Fae blade at her hip thrummed in response, its moonsilver surface catching the strange light and throwing it back in patterns that hurt to look at directly. They followed a path of glowing mushrooms that led them to a clearing where a pool of liquid starlight reflected their faces back at them, but not quite as they were. Rory's reflection showed her with silver-streaked hair and eyes that glowed faintly violet, while Silas appeared taller, his features sharper, more otherworldly. "That's not right," he said, stepping back from the water's edge. "That's not how I look." Eva knelt beside the pool, dipping her fingers into the liquid. It clung to her skin like mercury, forming tiny constellations that mapped themselves across her palm before dissolving into mist. "The water shows us as we might be, in this place," she said softly. "Or perhaps as we truly are, beneath the surface." A sound like wind chimes made of crystal drew their attention to the center of the clearing, where a circle of standing stones rose from the ground. Each stone was carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and change when viewed from different angles, depicting scenes of ancient battles, forgotten rituals, and creatures that defied description. As they approached, the ground beneath their feet began to hum, vibrating up through their bones with a frequency that made their teeth ache. Rory reached for the nearest stone, her fingers tracing the cool surface. The moment she made contact, images flooded her mind—a great tree with roots that stretched into the earth and branches that scraped the heavens, a woman with hair like spun silver weeping tears that turned to stars, a blade of moonlight cutting through darkness. She stumbled back, gasping for breath. "There's power here," she said, her voice unsteady. "Old power. Older than anything I've ever felt." Silas caught her arm, steadying her. "You alright?" Rory nodded, though her heart still raced. "Just overwhelmed. This place... it's like nothing I've ever encountered." Eva had wandered to the far side of the clearing, where a wall of vines hung heavy with flowers that bloomed and withered in the span of seconds. Each blossom was a different color, and as they opened and closed, they released notes of music that combined into a haunting melody. "The music of the spheres," Eva said, her eyes distant as she listened. "Or at least, a fragment of it. Each flower represents a different celestial body, singing its song." Rory joined her, listening to the otherworldly music. It stirred something deep within her, a longing for a home she'd never known, a connection to something vast and ancient. From somewhere deeper in the grove, a voice called out—soft as a whisper, yet carrying clearly across the distance. "Welcome, children of Earth. You seek answers in a place that trades in riddles." They turned as one to see a figure emerge from between two of the standing stones. She was tall and slender, with hair like liquid silver that pooled at her feet. Her eyes were the color of twilight, and when she smiled, it was with a knowing that spoke of centuries lived. "I am Isolde," she said, her voice carrying the weight of ages. "Seer of the Fae Courts, keeper of the grove. You have questions, I think. And perhaps, if you are brave enough, I have answers." Rory stepped forward, her hand resting on the hilt of the Fae blade. "We need to know about the Heartstone," she said. "About the portals to Hel, and the creatures that are coming through them." Isolde's smile widened, though it never quite reached her eyes. "Ah, yes. The Heartstone. A powerful artifact, indeed. But power always comes with a price, does it not?" She moved closer, her bare feet making no sound on the moss. Up close, Rory could see that Isolde's features were both beautiful and terrible, ancient and young all at once. There was something wild about her, something that spoke of forests untouched by mortal hands and skies unpolluted by city lights. "The portals you speak of," Isolde continued, "are tears in the Veil between worlds. And they are growing larger, more numerous. Something is pushing through from the other side, something that does not belong in your realm." Eva stepped forward, her expression fierce. "Can you tell us what it is? How to stop it?" Isolde tilted her head, considering them with eyes that seemed to see more than they should. "I can show you," she said at last. "But knowledge is not given freely in this place. There is always a trade to be made." Rory's hand tightened on her blade. "What do you want?" The Fae woman's smile turned sharp. "A taste of your world, perhaps. A story, a song, a memory. Something to remind me of what lies beyond these borders." Silas shifted uncomfortably, but Rory nodded. "Alright. We'll give you something. But first, you show us what we're up against." Isolde's laugh was like wind through autumn leaves. "Very well. But remember, children of Earth—once you see, you cannot unsee. Once you know, the knowing changes you." She raised her hands, and the air between them began to shimmer and distort. Images formed in the space—a city of brass and fire, its towers reaching toward a blood-red sky. Creatures of shadow and flame moved through streets paved with bones, their eyes burning with hunger. And at the center of it all, a figure in dark robes stood atop a ziggurat, hands raised to a sky that boiled with storm clouds. Around its neck hung a pendant that pulsed with the same crimson light as Rory's Heartstone. "The Prince of Gluttony," Isolde whispered. "Belphegor. He seeks to consume all realms, to make them part of his own. And he is growing stronger with each passing day." The image faded, leaving them standing in the grove once more. Rory's heart hammered in her chest, the pendant at her throat burning hot against her skin. "We have to stop him," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde stepped back, her expression unreadable. "Then you must be willing to pay the price," she said. "For in the game of realms, there are no free moves. Only consequences." Rory met her gaze, feeling the weight of the choice before her. "Tell us what we need to do," she said. "And we'll pay whatever price you ask."