AI The Fae blade hummed against Rory's hip. Its quiet vibration grew steadier as they approached the ancient oak standing stones that marked the boundary of Isolde's grove.
"Are we certain this is wise?" Nyx's voice drifted between them like a half-remembered whisper . Their form rippled at the edges, darkness bleeding into the afternoon light.
"Isolde invited us," Rory said, fingers absently tracing the crescent scar on her wrist. "And I'd rather face whatever's happening with a seer's guidance than without."
The Heartstone pendant warmed against her collarbone, its crimson glow visible even through her jumper. Since finding it on her doorstep three weeks ago, the stone had been her most reliable compass to the strange and impossible. Today it pulsed with an urgency she hadn't felt before.
"The Veil is particularly thin here," Nyx observed, their violet eyes scanning the boundary stones. "These markers are older than they appear."
Rory approached the nearest stone, weathered and covered with lichen that seemed to shift patterns when viewed directly . The stone's surface rippled like water when she moved her hand near it without touching.
"Are we going to stand here admiring rocks all day, or shall we get on with it?" Eva adjusted her camera strap, the only one among them who seemed genuinely excited rather than apprehensive .
Rory took a deep breath and stepped between the stones. The world tilted sideways.
The forest around them transformed. The ambient sounds of Richmond Park—distant traffic, joggers, dogs barking—vanished, replaced by a profound silence broken only by the gentle music of wind through leaves that didn't move. The light changed, filtering through a canopy that seemed both denser and more luminous than before.
"Bloody hell," Eva whispered, her camera forgotten at her side.
Where the path had been dirt moments before, now vivid blue flowers carpeted the ground, closing gently behind their footsteps like water. The air tasted of honey and something sharper—metal, perhaps, or blood.
"The Grove remembers you, Aurora Carter." The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Isolde emerged from between trees that hadn't been there seconds before. Her silver hair caught impossible light, and her pale lavender eyes reflected nothing of this world.
"And it recognizes what you carry." Her gaze fixed on the pendant at Rory's throat.
"You said you'd answer our questions," Rory said, fighting the urge to cover the Heartstone with her hand.
Isolde's lips curved into a smile. "I said I would speak with you. The difference matters."
The Half-Fae moved deeper into the grove, her bare feet making no sound on the flower-covered path. They followed, Nyx keeping close to Rory, their form more solid here than it had been outside.
"Your shadow friend finds strength in the Between," Isolde observed without turning. "The Grove exists partly in my mother's world. The rules of your realm hold less sway."
The trees parted to reveal a clearing that defied sense. A circular pool of water occupied the center, yet the water flowed upward in a lazy spiral before disappearing into nothingness. Around it stood thirteen stone chairs arranged in a perfect circle, each carved with symbols that seemed to crawl across the surface when observed too long .
"Please, sit," Isolde gestured to three of the chairs. "The others won't mind."
"Others?" Eva glanced at the empty seats.
"Those who attend in spirit rather than form," the seer said, taking her own seat opposite them.
Rory lowered herself onto a stone chair and gasped. The stone wasn't cold but warm, pulsing gently beneath her like a living thing. The Heartstone pendant grew hotter in response, forcing her to pull it from beneath her jumper. Its crimson glow cast eerie shadows across the clearing.
"It recognizes its kin," Isolde said, nodding toward the pendant. "All gateways acknowledge one another."
"Gateway?" Rory frowned. "You mean this is a key of some sort?"
"A beacon . A lodestone. A warning." Isolde tilted her head, silver hair cascading over one shoulder. "The borders between realms grow thin, Aurora Carter. The winter solstice approaches, and with it, the weakening of the Veil."
Around them, the grove began to change. The flowers underfoot shifted from blue to purple to a deep, unsettling red. In the pool, the spiral of water moved faster, and within it, images flickered —a burning city, a throne room with shadows for walls, a feast where the diners' faces stretched into impossible smiles.
"Dymas rises," Isolde whispered. "Gluttony stirs."
Eva leaned forward, finally raising her camera. "Are those actual places?"
"Reflections," the seer corrected. "Shadows of what might be, has been, could never be, must never be."
Nyx moved closer to the pool, their shadowy form seeming to respond to the images. "Belphegor's realm grows stronger. We've felt it in the spaces between."
The water in the pool suddenly stilled, and instead of spiral movement, it reflected their faces—but wrong. Rory saw herself with eyes like pitch, smiling with teeth too sharp. Eva appeared withered, a camera made of bone in her skeletal hands. Nyx was solid, human, bleeding from eyes that no longer glowed.
"Do not trust what you see," Isolde cautioned, waving a hand over the pool. The disturbing reflections vanished. "The Fae Grove shows possibilities, not certainties."
The trees around the clearing began to shift, their trunks twisting inward as if listening . Between them, in the spaces that should have held only more forest, Rory glimpsed other landscapes—a vast vineyard under an amber sky, a city of spires made from what looked like bone, a feast hall where shadows danced on walls of flame.
"Dymas," Rory breathed, recognizing the realm from her dreams.
"Yes." Isolde stood, moving to one of the trees. She placed her hand against its bark, and the wood parted like curtains, revealing a clearer vision of the realm of Gluttony. "Prince Belphegor prepares a feast like no other. The price of attendance is higher than most would willingly pay."
Through the tree-window, they watched figures moving through lush gardens, harvesting fruits that pulsed with inner light. The workers' faces bore expressions of rapturous joy and profound despair simultaneously.
"Contracted souls," Nyx explained, noticing Rory's questioning look. "Bound to serve in exchange for earthly desires fulfilled during life."
Eva's camera clicked rapidly. "Will these photos even develop?"
"Time and image behave differently here," Isolde said, moving away from the tree. As she did, the vision faded, the bark closing like a healing wound. "What you capture may not be what you witnessed."
The grove shifted again. The stone chairs began to sink slowly into the ground, and the pool's water darkened to the color of wine. The scent in the air changed from honey-sweet to something richer, headier—the smell of overripe fruit on the edge of fermentation.
"The Grove responds to the strengthening of Dymas," Isolde explained. "All realms are connected by roots deeper than sight or sense."
The Fae blade at Rory's hip vibrated more intensely , and she placed her hand on its hilt to steady it. The moment her fingers touched the moonsilver, a shock ran through the clearing. The trees shuddered, dropping leaves that dissolved into motes of light before hitting the ground.
"The weapon remembers its purpose," Isolde said with something like satisfaction . "Forged to sever bindings and cut through veils."
"You gave it to me for a reason," Rory stated, not a question.
"The Fae cannot directly intervene in the affairs of Hel or Earth. We are bound by ancient accords." Isolde's lavender eyes flashed. "But we can provide tools to those who walk between."
Around them, the grove began to pulse with a rhythm like heartbeats. The ground beneath their feet softened, and when Rory looked down, she saw not earth but something like transparent membranes, through which deeper realms were visible—layers upon layers of worlds stacked beneath them.
"The Grove reveals the structure of creation to you," Isolde said. "Few mortals have seen this and remained whole."
Nyx moved closer to Rory, their shadow form providing unexpected stability against the disorienting vision. "We should not linger here. Even I find this place... unsettling."
"One last thing," Isolde said. She approached Rory and, without warning, placed her cool fingers against Rory's temples.
The grove vanished. Rory stood in a vast hall where tables groaned under the weight of impossible feasts. Figures whose faces she couldn't quite see raised goblets in toast . At the head table, a presence of terrible gravity and charm sat obscured in shadow. When it turned toward her, the Heartstone burned against her skin like a brand.
"He sees you now," Isolde's voice came from far away. "As you see him."
Rory blinked, and they were back in the clearing. The stone chairs had completely vanished, and the pool had shrunk to a tiny mirror of black water.
"What just happened?" Eva demanded, looking pale.
"A glimpse," Isolde said. "A warning."
"Of what?" Rory asked, her voice unsteady .
"Of attention. Interest. Hunger." Isolde's expression grew solemn. "Prince Belphegor has noticed your pendant. The connection is established. What comes next depends on what you choose to do with that connection."
The grove began to fade around them, the vivid colors bleeding into the more muted tones of an ordinary forest. The mystical flowers underfoot withered and became simple woodland moss. Only Isolde remained unchanged, her otherworldly presence stark against the increasingly normal surroundings.
"The winter solstice comes in three days," she said, her voice now sounding distant though she stood an arm's length away. "The Veil will be at its thinnest. Choices made then will echo across realms."
"What should we do?" Rory asked, clutching both the pendant and the hilt of the Fae blade.
Isolde's form began to shimmer, becoming translucent as the grove reverted fully to its earthly appearance. "The blade cuts. The stone guides. Your shadow friend bridges worlds. Use what you have been given."
With those cryptic words, she vanished entirely, leaving them standing alone in what now appeared to be an ordinary clearing in Richmond Park. Only the distant standing stones suggested anything unusual had occurred.
Eva lowered her camera, looking shaken. "Tell me you both experienced that too."
"We did," Nyx confirmed, their form once again less solid in the normal world . "And more importantly, so did others across the Veil."
Rory looked down at the Heartstone pendant, now cool against her skin, its glow dormant. The Fae blade had quieted as well, but a new weight hung about it, as though it had awakened to some purpose long forgotten.
"Three days until the solstice," she murmured. "Not much time to prepare for... whatever that was."
Behind them, though none turned to see it, a single red flower bloomed where Isolde had stood—its petals opening toward an amber sky only it could see.