AI The ancient oak standing stones loomed ahead, their bark blackened by centuries of London rain yet humming with a vibration that rattled Aurora's teeth. She stopped at the threshold, her hand instinctively brushing the small crescent scar on her left wrist. The air beyond the stones didn't smell like damp Earth or decaying leaves. It smelled of ozone and crushed starlight.
"Stay close," she muttered, her voice sounding thin against the sudden silence of Richmond Park. The city traffic, usually a constant roar even this deep in the greenery, vanished the moment Nyx stepped through the gap between the first two trees.
The shade flowed forward, their form shifting from a solid six-foot-two silhouette to a wisp of living shadow before coalescing again. Violet eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. "The boundary breathes here, Rory. Can you not feel it exhaling?"
Aurora gripped the hilt of the Fae-forged blade at her hip. The moonsilver dagger bit into her palm, its eternal cold seeping through her glove. "I feel a draft. Let's keep moving."
She pushed past the final stone.
The world snapped.
One step she stood in the grey twilight of an English afternoon; the next, she waded into a sea of gold. The sky above stretched out in a dome of warm amber, devoid of sun yet blazing with light that cast no harsh shadows. Wildflowers erupted from the ground in riotous colors that hurt to look at—petals of burning orange, stems of electric blue, leaves that shimmered like polished gemstones. They bloomed in dense, tangled clusters, reaching up to her waist.
Isolde Varga walked ahead, her silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of mercury. She left no impression in the soft, mossy ground. Her pale lavender eyes scanned the horizon, unblinking. "Time forgets itself in this pocket," the seer said, her voice carrying the weight of three centuries. "An hour here might be a heartbeat outside, or a lifetime. Do not trust the position of the light."
Aurora looked down. The Heartstone pendant beneath her shirt pulsed against her sternum, a rhythmic warmth that matched the thrum of the ambient air. It hadn't reacted like this near the rifts in London. This place felt older, deeper. "Where exactly are we, Isolde? You said a grove. This looks like... something else."
"A bridge," Isolde corrected, stepping over a vine that writhed slightly as she passed. "Between what is and what could be. The Fae Courts shaped the bones of this place, but the earth itself remembers older songs."
Nyx drifted to Aurora's side, their shadowy form stretching long across the glowing flora. "The shadows here have teeth, Rory. Not to bite, but to whisper . Listen."
Aurora stilled. Beneath the beauty, a low hum vibrated through the soles of her boots. It wasn't wind. It sounded like voices, thousands of them, speaking in a language she almost understood but couldn't quite grasp . The hair on her arms stood up. The wonder of the amber sky curdled into a tight knot of unease in her stomach .
"Keep your blade ready," she said, drawing the slender dagger. The moonsilver caught the ambient light, glowing with a faint, milky luminescence. "If this place is a bridge, something might be crossing from the other side."
They moved deeper into the clearing. The trees here were not oaks or beeches. Their trunks twisted in impossible spirals, bark white as bone, supporting canopies of leaves that looked like spun glass . When a breeze stirred them, they chimed like tiny bells. Aurora reached out to touch one, but Nyx's shadowy hand intercepted hers.
"Do not touch the glass-leaves," the shade whispered, the sound like dry leaves skittering on pavement . "They reflect more than light. They show what you fear most."
Aurora pulled her hand back. "Noted."
The path widened, opening into a circular arena dominated by a pool of water so still it looked like a mirror of polished obsidian . Around the pool, standing stones similar to the entrance markers formed a perfect ring, each carved with symbols that seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of the eye .
Isolde approached the water's edge. She did not walk; she glided, her feet inches above the flowering turf. "The pool shows the Veil," she announced. "Look, but do not lean too close. The barrier is thin here, thinner than in your London streets."
Aurora stepped up beside the seer. The surface of the water didn't reflect the amber sky or the glass-leaved trees. Instead, it showed a grey, swirling mist. Through the mist, she caught glimpses of jagged rock and a sky the color of bruised plums. Heat radiated from the image, smelling of sulfur and roasted meat.
"Dymas," Isolde murmured. "The realm of Gluttony. Prince Belphegor's domain."
Aurora recoiled. The warmth from the Heartstone spiked, burning hot against her skin. "Why can we see Hel from here? The Veil should hold."
"The solstice approaches," Isolde said, turning her lavender gaze to Aurora. "The barrier weakens. This grove acts as a lens, focusing the tear. What you see is not a window, but a wound ."
Nyx leaned over the pool, their form rippling. "I see souls," they whispered. "Chained chefs, bound to endless feasts. The air there tastes of ash and excess."
A shiver ran down Aurora's spine that had nothing to do with the cold blade in her hand. The vision in the water shifted. A massive banquet table appeared, laden with fruits that burst with unnatural juices and meats that steamed with aromatic spices. Figures moved around it, their faces blurred, their movements frantic and desperate. They ate with a hunger that looked like pain .
"They are helbound," Aurora said, her voice tight . "Contracted from Earth."
"Some willingly," Isolde corrected. "Most tricked. The line between desire and damnation is often a single step."
A sudden gust of wind swept through the grove, though the glass-leaves remained silent. The amber sky darkened to a deep, angry orange. The flowers at their feet wilted instantly, turning brown and crumbling to dust before reforming seconds later, vibrant and whole.
"The realm reacts to our presence," Nyx noted, their violet eyes narrowing . "We are anomalies here. Mortal flesh and bound shadow in a place of pure magic."
"Then we don't linger," Aurora said, sheathing the dagger but keeping her hand on the hilt. "Isolde, you brought us here to show me the weakness in the Veil. I've seen it. Now how do we seal it before whatever is on the other side decides to push through?"
Isolde smiled, a sad, ageless expression that didn't reach her eyes. "Sealing a wound requires more than a bandage, child. It requires sacrifice. Or a key." She pointed a slender finger at the Heartstone pendant glowing beneath Aurora's shirt. "That artifact pulses in rhythm with the tear. It did not find you by accident."
Aurora's hand flew to the pendant. The crimson gemstone burned now, uncomfortable against her collarbone. "An unknown benefactor gave this to me. I don't know what it is."
"It is a piece of Dymas," Isolde said softly . "Forged in the fires of the glutton prince's own kitchens, stolen by a rebel soul, and sent to Earth to find a vessel. You are the vessel, Aurora Carter."
The ground beneath them shuddered. A low rumble echoed through the grove, emanating from the obsidian pool. Ripples spread across the surface, distorting the vision of the hellish feast. The grey mist in the water thickened, pressing against the surface as if trying to break through .
"Something comes," Nyx warned, their form expanding, shadows lengthening and sharpening into claws . "The Veil tears wider."
Aurora drew the Fae blade again. The cold metal grounded her, cutting through the disorienting heat of the pendant. "Hold the line," she ordered, her voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding her system. "Isolde, tell me what to do with this stone. Nyx, keep anything from climbing out of that pool."
The amber sky flashed with lightning that made no sound. The wildflowers bowed low, as if in prayer or terror. The boundary between worlds groaned, the fabric of reality stretching thin enough to see the darkness underneath.
"The stone must be submerged," Isolde shouted over the rising hum of the tearing Veil. "Into the pool! It will act as a anchor, pulling the edges of the rift together!"
Aurora sprinted toward the water. The air grew thick, resistant, like wading through syrup. Every step demanded effort. The heat from the pool intensified, carrying the scent of roasting flesh and spiced wine so strong it made her gag.
Shapes began to rise from the obsidian surface. Hands, gray and grasping, clawed at the air. Faces formed in the mist, mouths open in silent screams of hunger.
"Hurry, Rory!" Nyx's voice echoed from everywhere at once. Shadows lashed out, wrapping around the grasping hands, dragging them back into the depths . The shade fought with a ferocity born of centuries of survival, their form a whirlwind of darkness against the encroaching grey.
Aurora reached the edge. The heat singed her eyebrows. She looked down into the churning water, seeing the hellish landscape of Dymas pressing closer, the sprawling vineyards and grand feasts twisting into a nightmare of consumption.
She gripped the Heartstone through her shirt, feeling its frantic pulse match the beating of her own heart. With a grunt of effort, she ripped the chain from her neck. The crimson gemstone flared, casting a bloody light across the grove.
"For Cardiff," she whispered, and threw the pendant into the center of the swirling pool.