Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPM9AVKTY9F7JGKJ3VD2XF

Aurora Carter, or Rory as her friends called her, adjusted the strap of her bag, the weight of the Fae-Forged Blade inside a comforting presence against her side. The Heartstone Pendant around her neck pulsed gently, its warmth a stark contrast to the cool air of the grove. She looked around, taking in the ancient oak standing stones that marked the boundary of the Fae Grove. The wildflowers bloomed in a riot of colours, their sweet scent heavy in the air. Beside her, Nyx shifted, their shadowy form solidifying slightly. "This place is... different," they murmured, their voice like a whisper carried on the wind. Their violet eyes scanned the grove, taking in the ethereal beauty of it all. Isolde, the Seer, stood a few paces ahead, her silver hair catching the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. She turned to face them, her pale lavender eyes holding a depth of knowledge that made Rory shiver. "Welcome to my grove," she said, her voice melodic yet carrying an otherworldly quality. "Time moves differently here. Be mindful of that." Rory nodded, her bright blue eyes reflecting the wonder she felt. She stepped forward, her boots crunching on the soft ground. The air hummed with energy, a low thrum that vibrated through her bones. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the petals of a nearby flower. It shimmered under her touch, its colours shifting like a prism. Nyx followed, their form flickering between solid and incorporeal. They reached out, their shadowy hand passing through the trunk of a tree. "It's like the boundaries between realms are thinner here," they observed, their voice tinged with awe. Isolde led them deeper into the grove, her footsteps silent. The trees grew taller, their branches intertwining to form a natural cathedral. The sunlight filtered through, casting dancing patterns on the ground. Rory felt a sense of unease creep in, the beauty of the place tinged with something darker, something ancient. They came across a clearing, the centre of which was a small pool of water so clear it seemed to shimmer. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. She reached out, her fingers breaking the surface. The water was ice-cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the grove. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Queen Titania." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small clearing, the centre of which was a large stone altar. Rory approached it, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Suddenly, the stone glowed, a faint light emanating from it. Rory gasped, pulling her hand back. The light spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's a message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the stone. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the stone, her expression grave. "It's a warning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is weakening. The rifts are growing larger. Something is coming." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the stone, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Dymas," she whispered. "Gluttony." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the stone. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Prince," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Prince Belphegor," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of Dymas. He is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isolde. "We need to find out more," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what's happening." Isolde nodded, her expression softening. "There is a place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A place where the Veil is thin. Where the rifts are larger. It's dangerous, but it's where you'll find the answers you seek." Rory felt a sense of resolve wash over her. She looked at Nyx, who nodded, their form solidifying. "We'll go," Rory said, her voice steady. "We'll find out what's happening. And we'll stop it." Isolde nodded, her expression grave. "Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Veil is not to be trifled with. And neither is Prince Belphegor." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Nyx, who nodded, their form flickering. They stepped forward, their shadowy form merging with the shadows of the grove. Rory followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the energy of the grove, the hum of the Veil. She could feel the danger, the unease. But she also felt a sense of determination, a sense of purpose. They moved deeper into the grove, the trees growing taller, the shadows darker. The air hummed with energy, the thrum vibrating through their bones. They came across a small stream, its waters clear and sparkling. Rory knelt by the edge, her reflection staring back at her, distorted and wavery. Suddenly, the water rippled, her reflection distorting further. She gasped, pulling her hand back. The ripples spread out, forming patterns that seemed almost like words. She leaned in, trying to make sense of them. Nyx crouched beside her, their form solidifying. "It's another message," they whispered, their eyes fixed on the water. "From the Fae." Rory felt a chill run down her spine. She looked up at Isolde, who stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable. "What does it say?" Rory asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's eyes were fixed on the water, her expression grave. "It's a map," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A map to the rift. To the place where the Veil is thinnest." Rory felt a sense of dread wash over her. She looked back at the water, the patterns shifting and changing. She could make out words now, words that sent a shiver down her spine. "The Fae Courts," she whispered. "The Summer Palace." Nyx's form flickered, their unease palpable. "We need to go," they said, their voice urgent. "Now." Rory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, her eyes never leaving the water. The patterns shifted again, forming a new message. "Beware the Queen," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Isolde's expression darkened. "Queen Titania," she said, her voice grave. "Ruler of the Summer Court. She is not to be trifled with." Rory felt a sense of determination wash over her. She looked at Nyx, then at Isol