AI The Fae blade bit into the thick, twisting root blocking our path, severing it with a sound like cracking ice. Cold vapour hissed from the wound in the wood, smelling of ozone and crushed mint.
"Careful," Isolde warned, her voice drifting through the gloom like smoke. "That was not merely a root. It was a finger."
I wiped the moonsilver dagger on my trousers, the metal leaching the warmth from my palm even through the denim. My other hand went instinctively to the Heartstone pendant at my throat. The crimson gem pulsed against my skin, a frantic, rhythmic thumping that matched the sudden acceleration of my own heart. It felt hot, too hot for a stone that had sat cold in my pocket all week.
"We are through," I said, stepping over the severed limb. "Now what?"
The air changed the moment we crossed the threshold of ancient oak standing stones. The damp chill of a London November vanished, replaced by a heavy, perfumed warmth that coated the back of my throat. Richmond Park lay behind us, grey and skeletal under the winter sky, but here, inside the circle of stones, summer roared in full, violent bloom.
Nyx materialised beside me, their shadowy form coalescing from the dappled light beneath a fern. They stood a head taller than me, a silhouette of living darkness that seemed to drink the vibrant colours around us . Their violet eyes glowed faintly, scanning the canopy above.
"Time behaves strangely here," Nyx whispered, the sound carrying on a breeze that did not rustle the leaves. "An hour outside might be a century within. Or a second. The threads are tangled."
"Can you feel them?" Isolde asked, drifting forward without touching the ground. Her silver hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of moonlight, untouched by the burrs and twigs that snagged my jacket. She left no imprint on the mossy floor. "The eyes of the court? They watch interlopers."
"I feel hunger," Nyx replied. "The land itself is hungry."
We moved deeper into the grove. The flora defied every rule of botany I had learned at school, and every instinct screamed that this place should not exist within the M25. Flowers the size of dinner plates unfurled petals of iridescent blue and sulphur yellow, releasing clouds of sparkling pollen that hung in the air like suspended stars. Vines thick as python coils spiralled up trees with bark that shimmered like polished obsidian. The leaves were not green, but a deep, bruised purple, veined with gold that seemed to flow rather than sit static.
A low hum vibrated through the soles of my boots. It was not a mechanical sound, but organic, a chorus of a thousand insects or perhaps the trees themselves singing in a frequency just below human hearing. The taste of the air shifted again, sweet and cloying, like overripe peaches left in the sun.
"Don't eat anything," I said, my voice sounding too loud in the hushed cathedral of the grove. "Don't drink. Don't even breathe too deeply if you can help it."
Isolde laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a storm. "Rules for mortals. How quaint. The Fae do not poison guests, Aurora. They simply... reshape them."
"Reassuring."
Nyx stretched out a hand, their shadowy fingers passing through a cluster of glowing berries. The fruit did not break or bruise; instead, the shadows seemed to absorb the light from the berries, turning them dull and grey before Nyx pulled away.
"The Veil is thin here," Nyx observed. "Thinner than the rifts in Camden. I can hear the other side breathing."
I looked at the Heartstone. The pulse had quickened to a stutter. The crimson glow intensified, casting long, bloody shadows against the purple foliage. It tugged at my neck, pulling me toward a break in the trees ahead where the light grew brighter, almost blinding.
"That way," I said, following the pull . "The stone wants us to go there."
"Or it lures us to a trap," Isolde murmured, though she followed without hesitation. "The stone is of Dymas. It knows the taste of Gluttony. Perhaps it seeks its home."
We pushed through a curtain of hanging moss that felt like wet silk against our faces . The ground sloped downward, leading us into a clearing that opened up into a vast, sun-drenched valley hidden within the pocket dimension. The sky above was not the grey of England, nor the amber of Hel, but a swirling tapestry of twilight hues, perpetually stuck between dusk and dawn.
In the centre of the clearing stood a pool of water so still it looked like a mirror of black glass . Around it, statues of marble and bone depicted scenes of feasting and fury, their faces worn smooth by centuries of wind that did not blow.
"The Oracle's pool," Isolde said, her tone losing its riddling edge for the first time . She stopped at the water's edge, her lavender eyes widening. "It has not reflected the stars in three hundred years."
I stepped closer, the grass springy and alive under my feet, writhing slightly as if testing my weight . The hum grew louder, vibrating in my teeth. The Heartstone burned now, abrand against my collarbone.
"Look," Nyx said, pointing a dark finger at the water.
The surface rippled, though nothing had touched it. Images formed in the black depths , not reflections of us, but scenes from elsewhere . I saw London, but twisted. The Thames ran with fire. Big Ben leaned precariously, its clock face melted like wax. People ran through the streets, their mouths open in silent screams as shadowy tendrils erupted from the pavement, dragging them down.
"That's not a prophecy," I whispered, the cold dread settling in my stomach . "That's happening. Or it will."
"The Veil breaks," Isolde said softly . "The solstice weakens the barrier, but this..." She traced a finger over the water, and the image shifted. Now I saw a figure standing atop a ruin, holding a staff of twisted iron. The figure wore a mask of bone. "This is acceleration. Someone forces the door open."
The ground beneath us lurched . A deep groan echoed through the valley, the sound of tectonic plates grinding together. The purple leaves on the trees snapped upright, turning toward the source of the noise. The humming ceased, replaced by a sudden, deafening silence that pressed against my eardrums.
"The ward is failing," Nyx said, their form flickering, solid one moment, vapour the next . "Something comes through."
From the tree line opposite the pool, the shadows detached themselves. They were not like Nyx. These were jagged, malformed things, scraping against the ground with claws of bone. They moved with unnatural speed, a horde of nightmares pouring from the darkness between the trees. Their eyes burned with the same amber fire as the sky of Dymas, but their shapes were wrong, twisted by hunger and madness.
"Gluttony spawns," Isolde hissed, drawing a slender rod of white wood from her sleeve. "They smell the Heartstone."
The lead creature lunged, a mass of maw and claw, moving faster than anything that size should. I raised the Fae blade, the moonsilver humming in response to the threat. The air grew cold, frost spreading across the grass in a perfect circle around us.
"Stay behind me," I shouted, bracing my feet against the writhing earth.
The creature hit an invisible wall of cold air ten feet from us, shrieking as the frost burned its flesh. But more poured from the trees, dozens of them, climbing over each other in a frenzy of hunger. The ground shook again, harder this time. A crack split the earth between us and the pool, widening rapidly, leaking a thick, amber mist that smelled of rotting fruit and old blood.
"They aren't just coming for the stone," Nyx said, their voice rising above the cacophony of screeches . "They are coming for the gateway."
The crack in the earth widened further, and a massive hand, scaled and dripping with slime, grasped the edge of the rift. It pulled. The earth screamed. The sky above tore open, revealing not twilight, but a churning vortex of red and black.
"Run," Isolde commanded, her compulsion to truth making the order absolute. "The grove falls."
We turned to flee, but the path we had entered from was gone . Where the ancient oaks had stood, a wall of thorns now rose, twenty feet high and growing by the second, blocking our escape. The horde closed in from the front, the rift yawned at our backs, and the Heartstone at my throat screamed with a heat that seared my skin.