AI The air between the alleyway and the ruin tasted like copper and burnt sugar . Aurora tightened her grip on the silver chain of the Heartstone pendant. The thumbnail-sized gemstone lodged beneath her blouse deepened its crimson glow, a steady, pulsing rhythm that matched the frantic thrum of her own heartbeat.
"Keep your hands visible."
The whisper cut through the humid London mist, dry as parchment. Isolde Varga stepped over the threshold first. The Half-Fae seer didn’t rush. She drifted forward with a bare minimum of movement, her silver hair catching the stagnant damp air. A small detail, easily missed in the gloom , revealed the magic at work. Her boots touched the ground, sank an inch, but when she lifted them, no prints marred the gravel.
"Time bends here. The sun does not move, but the shadows stretch."
Isolde turned, her pale lavender eyes scanning the dissipating fog. She reached out, tracing the edge of a jagged tear in the sky—a rift in the Veil. The barrier shimmered like oil on disturbed water.
"Master Belphegor allows guests."
"Hardly," Nyx interjected.
The Shadow drifted from the darkness of the alley. They flickered between solidity and a translucent gas, their violet eyes glowing with a drowsy lethargy. Nyx preferred the dark, but the amber light of this new realm washed over them, illuminating their humanoid silhouette. "I like the dark better. The light is loud."
"Focus," Aurora said, her voice a sharp command. She shouldered past Isolde, shielding the pendant with her jacket to muffle its heat. "We need to know how deep we are."
She took the first step into the breach.
The transition wasn't a physical sensation, but a cognitive one. Reality folded, squeezing her ribcage for a second before releasing her. The chill of the London winter vanished. The cold winter solstice wind was replaced by a sudden, oppressive warmth . It clung to skin like a wet wool blanket, heavy and aromatic.
Aurora stumbled slightly , her boots scrabbling on ground that felt less like dirt and more like compressed peat.
"Welcome to Dymas."
Isolde’s voice drifted from ahead. "Gluttony. A heavy guest for an empty stomach ."
Aurora righted herself and squinted. The amber sky above stretched impossibly high, a bruised yellow hue that pressed down on the world. It didn't look like daylight. It looked like something preserved in amber, eternal and stagnant. The light didn't sparkle off water; it made the air waver with heat haze.
"What do you see?" Aurora asked, keeping her eyes on the ground.
"The orchards," Isolde replied. "And the hunger."
Nyx materialized fully next to Aurora, solidifying into a towering shape that swallowed the amber light. They crouched, studying a patch of wildflowers nearby. The flowers bloomed in impossible shades—neon magentas and stark yellows that hurt the eyes to look at for too long.
"They're not real flowers," Nyx murmured, reaching out a hand. As their fingers brushed the petals, the flower shivered, the color draining out of it until it turned brown and withered within seconds. "They eat light."
"Stay back," Aurora said.
She picked up a handful of the withered remains. They crumbled to ash at her touch. The air smelled of cinnamon and old blood. Overhead, massive trees towered, their branches twisting like gnarled fingers reaching for a sky that refused to lower itself.
"This place..." Aurora exhaled, the hot air puffing from her lips . "It feels wrong. Like I should be hungry but I'm not."
"Excess often mimics satisfaction," Isolde said, stepping past a looming structure that resembled a ruin. It was carved from black stone, covered in carvings of open mouths and grasping hands. "Do you see that?"
Aurora squinted through the haze. In the distance, a sprawling estate rose from a valley floor. It wasn't a house; it was a collection of pavilions, massive columns, and banquet tables that seemed to stretch endlessly into the blur of the horizon .
"Is that Hel?"
"The lower ring," Nyx said, standing up and stretching their elongated shadow limbs. The shadows detached from their body, slithering across the ground like independent serpents. "Prince Belphegor likes to feed the walls. Concrete and mortar cannot hold forever, but the mind? The mind creates cells from hunger."
Aurora shoved her hands into her pockets, her fingers brushing the cold metal of the Fae-Forged Blade tucked into her boots. The balance between the two items in her possession—the warmth of the Heartstone and the cold of the blade—felt like a tightrope walk . "We need to find the source of this portal. If we wander into a feeding trough, we lose more than just our lunch."
Isolde stopped near a cluster of standing stones that marked what looked like a plaza . They were mossy, covered in writing Aurora couldn't decipher. The writing shifted, the letters swimming like ink in water, rearranging themselves before her eyes.
"The way lies through plenty," Isolde said, placing a hand on one of the stones. The stone pulsed with a deep, resonant hum that vibrated in Aurora’s teeth. "But beware the fork in the throat."
"Enough riddles," Aurora snapped.
Nyx laughed. The sound was a dry rustle, like leaves skittering over stone. "She hates the riddles. Always has."
"Because they don't keep the bad guys away," Aurora retorted. She looked at the Heartstone. It felt hot enough to burn, directed outward as if pushing against an invisible barrier . She needed to follow that heat.
They moved deeper into the alien landscape. The ground beneath their feet was uneven, scattered with debris that looked like skeletal remains . Some were horse-sized, others human. The animal bones were polished to a sheen, bleached white by the relentless amber light.
The silence was heavy here. Birds didn't sing. Even the wind didn't howl; it sighed, a wet, sucking sound that echoed off the empty stomachs of the giant trees.
"It smells like a kitchen," Aurora said, sniffing the air.
"Very rich," Nyx added, leaning against a tree trunk that looked disturbingly like a partially carved man. "But the cook has poisoned the stock."
Aurora circled the tree. The bark was smooth and warm, radiating heat. Where the wood was scarred , it oozed a sap that looked like tar .
"This isn't a ruin," she realized. She looked at the structure of the trees. The wood grain wasn't random; it was organized. Too organized. It looked like carved wood.
"Welcome to the Gardens of Plenty," Isolde said softly . She stood near the edge of a grove, looking at a bush that bore fruits the size of bowling balls. "We are guests."
Aurora approached the bush, keeping a hand on her dagger. The fruit pulsed with a dark, crimson light inside the skin.
"Don't eat it," she warned Nyx. "It looks too alive."
"It sings to me," Nyx whispered, leaning in close. Their face contorted, a mixture of revulsion and fascination. "A song of bursting."
Isolde turned from the fruit and looked at Aurora. The Half-Fae’s eyes were distant, focusing on something beyond the trees. "The portal is tethered to the Feast. Do you feel the desire ? The craving for salt? For sweetness?"
"I feel like I could eat a horse," Aurora lied, unconvincingly .
The pendant at her throat flared, hot enough to sear her skin. Aurora hissed and grabbed the chain, tucking it deep into her shirt. The guidance system was frantic.
"The heat," Nyx pointed out, their voice dropping an octave . "It’s not guiding us. It’s screaming."
"I know," Aurora said, her breath coming short . She looked around. The alien landscape was shifting slightly . The horizon rippled. The trees moved.
"They are waking," Isolde said, her voice laced with a warning that sounded almost like boredom. "The Gluttony is greedy, even for a walk."
A massive vine whipped past them, moving with speed and purpose. It slammed into the ground a few feet away, twisting into a thick, muscular limb with jagged thorns the size of daggers.
"Run."
Aurora didn't need to be told twice. She bolted toward the source of the heat. Her boots sank into the soft, spongy earth. She sprinted, keeping her eyes locked on the pendant. The warmth burned through her coat.
Nyx moved with unnatural speed, slipping through the gaps between the vines before they could close. Isolde walked, unbothered, weaving through the assault of growth like a ghost.
"Avoid the roots," the Seer advised over her shoulder. "They do not digest. They just swallow."
Aurora vaulted over a low-hanging branch that tried to wrap around her ankle. The wood felt wet and sticky, leaving a residue on her jeans. She skidded to a halt in a small clearing.
In the center of the clearing stood the source. It wasn't a tree. It was a vast, hollowed-out structure . A massive inverted bell shape, dark as the underside of a tomb, anchored in the ground by roots thicker than dragon limbs.
And in the center of the opening, bleeding light, was the rift. The Heartstone thrummed violently against her chest, almost vibrating out of the cage of her ribs.
"There," Aurora gasped, steadying herself. "That's the tear. The pendant is pulling me to it."
Nyx drifted down to the base of the structure , their form flickering. "It smells like a gate. A very angry gate."
Isolde inspected the wall of the structure , tracing the symbols carved into the dark material. "We are standing in the throat of the beast, and it is trying to sing."
Aurora looked up at the amber sky. The light felt predatory now, actively hunting them. The shadows under the trees lengthened, slithering toward the three of them.
"We can't stay here," Aurora said, grabbing Isolde by the arm. The Seer didn't resist, her gaze still locked on the carvings. "Nyx, get behind me."
"I prefer the front," Nyx hissed, their voice changing, becoming deeper, resonant .
"Don't," Aurora said. "The Shadows here... they're not safe. I can't be sure the Veil holds you if you dissolve."
The pendant surged one last time, a blinding spark of crimson heat, and then the guidance stilled. It pointed straight into the darkness of the inverted structure .
"The path to the Gate," Isolde said, finally looking at them. "But it requires an offering."
"What?"
"Fear," Isolde whispered. "Or hunger. The lock is full."