Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0VCZ9H1Z6M9QM1JS02JDV

The Heartstone pendant pulsed against Rory’s skin, a steady beat of warmth that mirrored her own thrumming pulse. She stepped through the shimmering distortion, Nyx a silent shadow at her side, leaving the chill air of the London night behind. Heat washed over her, thick and humid, carrying the cloying scent of overripe fruit and something else, something musky and strangely sweet. She blinked, eyes adjusting to a perpetual twilight. The sky above glowed a deep, warm amber, suffusing the entire landscape in an ethereal, golden haze. Not a sun, not a moon, but an omnipresent luminescence that draped everything in a fantastical glow. Towering trees, unlike any she had ever seen, ascended towards that amber sky. Their trunks, wide and gnarled, twisted into impossible shapes, some appearing to weep thick, glistening sap that caught the light like liquid jewels. Broad leaves, the color of deep violet and emerald, filtered the amber light, casting shifting patterns on the ground. The air hummed, a low, resonant thrum that vibrated in her chest. A gentle breeze rustled through the violet leaves, whispering an alien song. Strange winged creatures flitted between the branches, their bodies glowing faintly, leaving trails of phosphorescence in their wake. They moved with an almost dreamlike grace, their wings beating silently. A path, overgrown but discernible, stretched out before them, paved with smooth, dark stone that absorbed the amber light. It wound deeper into the surreal landscape, disappearing beneath ancient, arching boughs. “This is Dymas,” Rory murmured, her voice a hushed whisper. Nyx solidified beside her, their form a ripple of darkness against the amber-lit setting. “Indeed. A realm of indulgence.” The whisper of their voice seemed to carry on the humid air itself, devoid of a human soundbox. Rory drew a deep breath, the air surprisingly heavy, almost viscous. It tasted of fermented grapes and something she couldn’t quite identify – a rich, earthy sweetness. Along the path, massive, fleshy plants pulsed with a gentle bioluminescence, their broad petals unfurling to reveal interiors that shimmered with dew. Clusters of fruit, enormous and vibrant in hues of sapphire and ruby, hung heavy from low branches, their skins smooth and unblemished. Some had burst open, spilling glistening pulp onto the dark earth below, attracting swarms of tiny, iridescent insects that buzzed with a low, collective drone. She bent to touch one of the fallen fruits. Its skin felt cool and yielding beneath her fingers, almost like velvet. A burst of sweet, intoxicating aroma rose from it. “Do not touch,” Nyx warned, a subtle ripple passing through their shadowy form. “Some of Dymas’s offerings bring more than simple pleasure.” Rory pulled her hand back, a prickle of unease tracing her scar. They continued down the path, the sounds of Dymas growing. The hum deepened, and she realized it wasn’t just the air, but the very ground beneath her feet, vibrating with a constant, low tremor. She heard the distant tinkle of chimes, the splash of water, and a murmur of voices, too far to discern. The path widened, leading them into a clearing where a river, wide and sluggish, flowed past. The water reflected the amber sky, looking less like water and more like liquid gold. Along its banks grew enormous reeds, their tips glowing with an internal light. Strange, iridescent fish, their scales like polished gemstones, leaped from the water, arcing through the air before splashing back down. Rory noticed the footprints now: not hoofprints, nor human, but elongated, clawed impressions in the soft earth near the riverbank. They moved closer to the edge, the ground feeling springy underfoot, almost like moss. “Look,” she said, pointing to a patch of shimmering wildflowers near the river. They bloomed in impossible colors—electric blues, fiery oranges, and deep purples that shifted like oil on water. As she watched, one of the brilliant blue petals slowly unfurled, revealing a delicate, nectar-filled pistil from which a faint, silvery mist rose. Nyx drifted forward, observing the river. “The river flows with more than water. It carries the essence of Dymas’s heart.” Rory followed their gaze. The water, though golden, possessed a subtle current that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. It was alluring, beautiful, yet a strange sense of caution held her back from wanting to touch it. They pressed deeper, the path becoming less overgrown, more clearly defined. The foliage began to thin, replaced by cultivated gardens. Rows of plants, meticulously arranged, burst with an explosion of color and scent. Fruit trees, heavy with ripe harvest, lined the path. She saw grapes the size of plums, shimmering with an unnatural sheen, and berries that sparkled like scattered jewels. The air grew even thicker with the scent of their sweetness, almost overwhelming. They passed a fountain carved from a single, enormous ruby-colored stone. Instead of water, a stream of what looked like effervescent, golden wine bubbled from its maw, flowing into a basin where more of the iridescent insects congregated. The sound was a soft, perpetual gurgle. Further on, the path opened into a grand vista. Before them lay a city, or at least, what appeared to be one. Structures, built from materials she couldn't name—gleaming obsidian, crystalline rock that caught the amber light, and wood that coiled like living vines—rose into the glowing sky. Ornate balconies jutted out, draped with bioluminescent flora. The architecture was fluid, organic, as if the buildings had grown from the very earth of Dymas. Bridges, arching gracefully, spanned chasms where more golden rivers flowed. Lights twinkled within the windows of the structures, warm and inviting. The murmur of voices grew, a low, constant drone, interwoven with music – deep, resonant chords and the lilting notes of an unseen flute. Rory felt a moment of pure wonder, her gaze tracing the impossible lines of the city. It was magnificent, overwhelming in its beauty and strangeness. “Belphegor’s domain,” Nyx stated, their form still, contemplating the vista. “The heart of Gluttony.” The sheer scale of it, the opulence, it was almost too much for her senses to process. Her eyes stung slightly from the rich, humid air. She could almost taste the distant feasts, smell the exotic wines. “It’s… overwhelming,” Rory admitted, the word a soft exhalation. Her fingers instinctively brushed the Fae-Forged Blade at her hip, a small, cold comfort amidst the warmth and alien beauty. The slender dagger felt utterly out of place here, a sliver of Earthly moonlight in a world drenched in amber and indulgence. They moved forward, drawn by the distant promise of the city. The path transitioned from stone to a smooth, polished surface that gleamed under the amber light, reflecting the towering structures like a dark mirror. Large, ornate lanterns, crafted from what appeared to be solidified light, began to appear, illuminating their way. They smelled roasting meats now, sweet and savory, pulling at a hunger she hadn’t realized she carried. The music grew louder, becoming a crescendo of strings and wind instruments, powerful and haunting. Figures began to appear, moving with a languid grace. They were humanoid, but not quite human. Some possessed multiple sets of limbs, others had iridescent skin that shimmered, or strange antlers that crowned their heads. They wore flowing garments of rich fabrics, their faces often serene, sometimes fixed in expressions of blissful contentment. They carried goblets, or plates laden with colorful, steaming food. They moved without haste, lost in their world of excess. Several passed by them, their eyes, a myriad of hues, slid over Rory and Nyx without recognition, as if they were as much a part of the Dymasian scenery as the glowing flora. Rory felt a strange sense of detachment, like she was witnessing a perpetual dream. No one acknowledged their presence. It was unsettling, the complete lack of interest. “They are consumed,” Nyx observed. “By the very essence of this place.” The path led them directly to a grand archway, shimmering with an inner light, that served as the city’s entrance. Beyond it, a bustling marketplace unfolded. Stalls overflowed with exotic produce, their vendors, equally strange and resplendent, offering samples of sweet nectars and spiced pastries. The aromas were a cacophony, a jumble of competing delights that made her stomach rumble despite her apprehension. She reached for the Fae blade, her hand tightening around its hilt. The cold metal grounded her. This place was a feast for the senses, but a subtle hum of danger vibrated beneath the surface, a reminder that Dymas’s beauty was only one of its many guises.