Run: 2026-02-19-01KHVPNK4S947P83JNYTEDKHP3

Rory pressed the Heartstone against her palm. The deep crimson gem pulsed, searing a steady rhythm into her skin. Ahead, the air warped. A localized heat haze hung above the damp grass of Richmond Park. Isolde tracked the invisible distortions with pale lavender eyes. "The boundary thins. Winter approaches. The Solstice demands expansion." A whisper scraped against Rory's ears, devoid of vocal cords. Nyx loomed beside them, shifting between a towering humanoid silhouette and a smear of living darkness. "The tear widens. I smell sugar and slaughter." Rory stepped forward. The shimmering distortion snapped over her like a freezing wave. Reality inverted. The transition tore the remaining breath from her lungs. She stumbled out of the invisible rift and caught her balance against a gnarly, twisted tree trunk. The Heartstone’s inner glow faded to a dull spark as it dropped against her sternum, no longer agitated by the Veil. The damp chill of London vanished entirely. A wave of oppressive, honeyed heat hit her skin. Above them stretched a warm amber sky. No sun. No clouds. Just an infinite, glowing expanse of molten gold casting a perpetual twilight. The light possessed a physical weight, coating the landscape in a bruised, golden hue. Rory swatted away a sluggish, iridescent insect the size of a sparrow. "Hel." Isolde glided through the rift. Her bare feet left no imprint on the ash-white soil. "Dymas. The Prince of Gluttony’s larder." Nyx materialized last. Their violet eyes flared like twin dying stars against the amber glare. "Excess. It suffocates." The landscape unfolded in sprawling terraces of unnatural fertility. Vineyards of deep violet leaves and bloated, pulsating fruit cascaded down steep hillsides. The vines did not creep. They thrashed at a microscopic pace, coiling around trellises forged from dark, untreated iron. An orchard stretched to their right, populated by trees bearing fruit that wept rivers of clear, viscous sap onto the ground. The scent of roasted meats mixed with pungent fermented wine and crushed cinnamon. The air rode a continuous, humid breeze that tasted of burnt sugar on the tongue. Rory unclasped the Fae-Forged Blade at her hip. The leaf-shaped dagger bit into her hand with ferocious cold. A phantom frost clung to the moonsilver logic of the weapon. It anchored her amidst the hallucinogenic fever-dream of the landscape, numbing the oppressive heat radiating from the ground. Rory swept the dagger in a tight arc, carving a trail through a hanging curtain of dripping moss. "Keep close. We find the soul contracts and get out. I have a delivery shift at the Golden Empress tomorrow." They trudged deeper into the agricultural nightmare. The ash-white soil clung to Rory’s boots. It reeked of marrow and pulverized bone, a stark contrast to the saccharine air. Huge orchids bloomed along the path, unfurling to reveal jagged, tooth-like stamens coated in thick nectar. Rory edged entirely around a massive blossom. The petals snapped shut on a passing violet-winged moth. A sickening crunch echoed in the humid air. Rory shoved a stray lock of straight black hair out of her eyes. "Everything eats everything here." Nyx coalesced into a solid form beside Rory. The towering figure stood over six feet tall against the glowing sky. "Gluttony requires consumption. The flora mirrors Prince Belphegor's curse." The amber sky cast long, distorted double shadows. Nyx absorbed the ambient darkness, growing denser and sharper. Rory kept her eyes peeled, watching the shifting foliage. Her left wrist throbbed. The small crescent-shaped scar from her childhood bicycle accident forever ached in intense atmospheric conditions. Dymas possessed the pressure of a deep ocean trench, crushing her lungs with cloying sweetness. They navigated a series of immense, tiered gardens. Stalks of jagged celery the size of ancient sequoia trees towered above them. Blood-red tomatoes pulsed with actual heartbeats, vines throbbing as they pumped nutrient-rich sap through the earth. A constant, underlying squelch accompanied their footsteps. The ground behaved less like dirt and more like digesting flesh. Isolde paused to examine a massive, glowing fungus bursting from the roots of a sugar-cane cluster. "The rot feeds the bloom. A flawless cycle of gluttony." Rory slashed through a final thicket of razor-sharp lemongrass. "Stay focused. We require stealth, not a botany lesson." They crested a small ridge of calcified white stone. Below them lay a sprawling depression in the earth, fashioned into a colossal, sunken kitchen. Fire pits the size of swimming pools blazed with roaring purple flames. Dozens of figures moved frantically between metal prep stations. Some wore tattered remnants of pristine white chef's coats. Others worked stripped to the waist, skin slick with sweat and grease. Towering brutes with skin the color of dried blood and curling obsidian horns stalked the perimeter. They carried long, hooked poles, occasionally nudging a stumbling cook back to their station. Rory dropped into a crouch behind a mammoth squash the size of a boulder. "The catering staff of the damned." Isolde knelt gracefully, resting her hands on her thighs. "Belphegor demands the Grand Feast. The culinary competition begins soon. The losers become the appetizer." Rory tightened her grip on the frozen dagger handle. "Indentured cooks. Evan loved watching those master chef shows. My ex didn't realize half of his culinary idols traded their eternal souls for a Michelin star." Isolde navigated the labyrinth of vines with her gaze. "The bargain is absolute. One lifetime of accolades. Eternity spent feeding the bottomless maw." Nyx glided past a throbbing vine. "Sorcerers made similar pacts in my time. Back in 1643, fools bartered their essence for parlor tricks. Gluttony takes many forms." Rory traced her crescent scar. "I dropped out of Pre-Law to avoid soul-sucking contracts. Now I steal them from demons." Nyx extended a wisp of darkness, pointing a shadowy tendril toward the center of the pit. "The Overseer holds the documentation." An enormous iron desk stood amidst the cooking stations, completely incongruous with the culinary chaos. A demon sat at the desk, clad in fine velvet robes stained with grease. Ledger books towered around him like unstable skyscrapers. He gnawed on a severed, roasted leg of indeterminate origin, occasionally stamping a parchment with a glowing metal seal. Rory consulted the Heartstone. It radiated a dull warmth, humming in resonance with the demonic magic below. She looked at her Fae-Forged Blade. The moonsilver gleamed, vibrating with lethal intent against the overwhelming demonic presence. She studied the fire pits. "Four hulks on patrol. Three dozen humans armed with meat cleavers. They won't help us." Nyx flared their violet eyes. "They are broken. Driven by the whip and the flame. They will defend their torturers to protect their soufflé." Isolde stared blankly at the roaring purple fires. "The fire purifies. The contract binds." Rory shook her head and sheathed the dagger. "I need mobility over a blade. Nyx. How far do your shadows stretch down there?" The whisper grated like two stones grinding together. "In this heat, the shadows recede. The smoke provides cover." Thick, greasy smoke plumed from the fire pits, crawling up the sloped sides of the depression. Rory pointed to the iron desk. "Ride the smoke. Knock over the grease vats onto the braziers behind him. We need chaos." Nyx unraveled. Ribbons of living darkness detached from the humanoid silhouette, slithering across the bone-white dirt and diving into the nearest shadow cast by the oversized squash. Rory turned to Isolde. "You wait here. Don't touch the carnivorous plants." Isolde smiled, a haunting, ethereal upward curve of her pale lips. "The roots seek blood. I return only moonlight." Rory slipped down the earthen embankment. The heat escalated immediately. Sweat beaded on her forehead. The clatter of knives and the roar of the fire drowned out her footsteps. A suffocating wave of roasting spice and char crashed into her. The air tasted of copper. She darted behind a stacked pyramid of wooden crates. They overflowed with twitching, iridescent tubers. She pressed her back against the rough wood, watching the nearest red-skinned warden stomp past. The earth shook with each of his steps. Black smoke billowed across the far side of the kitchen basin. A deafening crash shattered the rhythmic chopping. The colossal iron vats of grease tilted, overturned by an unseen force. Hundreds of gallons of boiling golden fat dumped directly into the central purple fire pits. The flames erupted. A wall of violet fire rocketed fifty feet into the amber sky, devouring the wooden scaffolding above the prep stations. Damned souls shrieked, abandoning their stations. They scattered, waving cleavers and whisks in blind panic. The wardens roared, swinging their hooked poles to corral the terrified cooks. Rory sprang from her cover. She sprinted through the bedlam, dodging a careening cart of exotic birds. She vaulted over a prep table coated in flour and dashed toward the Overseer’s iron desk. The velvet-robed demon stood, bellowing orders at his guards. He ignored his ledger books. Rory slid onto the dirt right beside the desk. She snatched the topmost stack of parchment. The demonic seals burned against her fingertips, but she shoved the rolled contracts into her jacket pocket. A heavy thud vibrated through her spine. The Overseer turned, his yellowed eyes locking onto Rory. He dropped the roasted leg. "Thief!" Rory drew the Fae dagger. The cold moonsilver cleaved the humid air. She slashed outward in a violent backhand sweep. The blade passed cleanly through the iron corner of the desk, slicing the metal in half. The freezing magic of the Fae Courts exploded outward upon impact, frosting the Overseer's velvet robes and knocking him backward into a mountain of ledgers. Rory bolted. "Nyx!" A funnel of black shadow ripped through the scattered parchment, scooping Rory into a localized vortex of cold darkness. The oppressive heat vanished instantly. The roaring flames faded into a muffled hum. Nyx propelled them back up the embankment. They materialized next to Isolde. The Seer already walked toward the shimmering tear in the Veil, her silver hair catching the amber light. Isolde stepped through the distortion. "The ovens preheat. We depart." Rory touched the stolen contracts in her pocket. She glanced back once at the inferno ravaging the gluttonous basin, feeling the profound unnaturalness of the realm pushing against her skin, and dove through the rift back to Earth.