AI The standing stones loomed like the ribs of some long-dead titan, their gnarled surfaces slick with moss and the damp of an English autumn. Rory adjusted the strap of her messenger bag, the Heartstone Pendant tucked safely beneath her shirt, its warmth a steady pulse against her sternum. The air smelled of wet earth and something older—something electric , like the moment before a storm.
Nyx materialized beside her, their form solidifying from the shadows between the oaks. The faint violet glow of their eyes flickered like candlelight in a draft. "The grove knows we’re here," they murmured, their voice a whisper that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Rory exhaled, fog curling from her lips. "You’re sure this is the right place?"
Isolde stepped forward, her silver hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She left no footprints in the damp earth, as if the ground itself refused to acknowledge her passage. "The stones remember," she said, pressing a pale hand against the nearest monolith. The moment her fingers touched the stone, the air hummed, a low vibration that thrummed in Rory’s teeth.
Then, the world tilted.
The trees ahead seemed to melt, their trunks bending like wax in a flame, revealing a path that hadn’t been there a heartbeat before. The standing stones groaned, shifting just enough to widen the gap between them. Beyond, the grove stretched into a clearing bathed in golden light, though the sky above remained the same bruised gray of a London afternoon.
Rory’s breath hitched. "That’s… not possible."
Nyx chuckled, the sound like dry leaves skittering across stone. "Possible is a small word for a small world."
Isolde glided forward, her bare feet hovering just above the path. "Come. The grove does not suffer hesitation."
Rory followed, her boots sinking into the spongy ground. The moment she crossed the threshold, the air changed—thicker, sweeter, like honey and crushed petals. The golden light intensified, painting the world in amber hues. Wildflowers carpeted the ground, their petals unfurling as she passed, as if welcoming her . The scent of them was overwhelming, intoxicating. She reached out, brushing her fingers against a cluster of bell-shaped blooms, and they chimed softly , a sound like wind through crystal .
Nyx’s form rippled, their edges blurring as they took in the surroundings. "This place is… alive."
Isolde smiled, but it was a sad thing, tinged with something like longing . "It is a pocket between worlds. The Fae Courts once walked here freely, before the Veil grew thick."
Rory’s gaze snagged on a tree at the center of the clearing, its bark silver as moonlight, its branches heavy with fruit that glowed faintly, like embers. "What is that?"
"The Heart Tree," Isolde said. "It bears the memories of the grove. Eat of its fruit, and you may see what it has seen."
Rory hesitated. "That sounds like a terrible idea."
Nyx drifted closer, their violet eyes fixed on the tree. "Or a necessary one."
A rustling came from the undergrowth, and Rory turned just in time to see a fox emerge from the ferns. Its fur was the color of autumn leaves, its eyes a startling, intelligent gold. It regarded them for a long moment before darting away, vanishing into the shadows beneath the trees.
Isolde sighed. "The grove tests us."
Rory frowned. "Tests us how?"
Before Isolde could answer, the ground beneath them trembled . Not an earthquake—something deeper, more primal. The flowers at Rory’s feet wilted, their petals curling in on themselves. The golden light dimmed, replaced by a creeping chill .
Nyx’s form darkened, their edges sharpening like a blade. "Something’s wrong."
Isolde’s lavender eyes widened . "The Veil is thinning."
Rory’s hand flew to her chest, where the Heartstone Pendant burned against her skin. She pulled it out, the crimson gem pulsing like a heartbeat. "It’s reacting to something."
Nyx’s gaze locked onto the pendant. "A portal."
The air ahead of them shimmered , a distortion like heat rising from pavement. But this was no mirage. The space between the trees warped, stretching, tearing. A gust of wind rushed out, carrying the scent of overripe fruit and something darker—rot, decay.
Rory’s stomach twisted. "That’s not the Fae realm."
Isolde’s voice was tight. "No. It’s Hel."
The tear in the air widened, revealing a glimpse of another world. A sky the color of molten gold stretched overhead, and in the distance, vineyards sprawled across rolling hills, their vines heavy with fruit that glistened like jewels. But the beauty was a lie. The air hummed with a low, discordant note, like a chorus of voices screaming just beyond hearing.
Nyx’s form flickered , their voice strained. "Dymas."
Rory’s fingers closed around the Fae-forged blade at her belt. The metal was ice against her skin. "We need to close it."
Isolde shook her head. "Not here. Not now. The grove is not strong enough to hold it back."
Rory’s pulse pounded in her ears. "Then what do we do?"
The fox reappeared, darting between them, its golden eyes wild. It barked once, sharp and urgent, before bolting toward the Heart Tree.
Isolde’s expression hardened. "We follow."
The ground trembled again, the tear in the Veil widening. The scent of Dymas—sweet and cloying—filled Rory’s lungs, making her head spin. She stumbled after Isolde, Nyx’s shadowy form a dark blur at her side.
The Heart Tree loomed ahead, its silver bark gleaming . The fox stood at its base, pawing at the roots. As Rory approached, she saw it—a hollow in the trunk, just large enough to slip inside.
Isolde didn’t hesitate. She stepped into the darkness, her silver hair vanishing last.
Rory exchanged a glance with Nyx. "You first."
Nyx’s form dissolved into smoke, slipping into the hollow like ink in water. Rory took a deep breath and followed.
The moment she crossed the threshold, the world went silent. The golden light of the grove vanished, replaced by a dim, blue-tinged glow. The air was thick, humid, like the inside of a lung. Roots coiled around her ankles, not restraining her, but guiding her forward .
She emerged into a cavern, its walls lined with veins of glowing crystal . At its center stood a pool of still, black water, its surface so dark it seemed to swallow the light. Isolde knelt at its edge, her reflection rippling in the depths .
Nyx materialized beside Rory, their form solid once more. "Where are we?"
Isolde didn’t look up. "The grove’s heart. The oldest part."
Rory’s gaze flicked to the pool. "What is this place?"
Isolde finally met her eyes. "A place of choices. The grove shows us what we need to see."
The water shivered. Ripples spread outward, distorting their reflections. Then, the surface stilled, and an image formed.
Rory gasped.
It was her. But not her. This version of her stood in a grand hall, her black hair braided with golden thread, a crown of thorns resting on her brow. Around her, figures in rich robes bowed, their faces obscured by shadows. And in her hand, she held a dagger—no, not a dagger. The Fae-forged blade, its moonsilver surface gleaming .
The vision shifted. Now she stood in a different hall, this one filled with smoke and the scent of burning flesh. A man lay at her feet, his throat slit, his eyes wide with betrayal. Evan.
Rory’s breath came fast. "What is this?"
Isolde’s voice was soft. "A possible future. One of many."
The water rippled again, and the image changed. Now Rory saw herself standing at the edge of the tear in the Veil, the Heartstone Pendant glowing in her palm. Behind her, Nyx and Isolde waited, their expressions grim. And beyond them, the golden sky of Dymas stretched endlessly, the vineyards crawling with figures—demons, their forms twisted, their mouths stretched in hungry grins.
Rory’s hands trembled . "What do I do?"
Isolde’s reflection in the pool met hers. "You choose."
The cavern trembled , the crystals in the walls chiming like bells. The tear in the Veil was widening . Rory could feel it, a pressure in her skull, a scream just beyond hearing.
Nyx’s voice was urgent. "We’re out of time."
Rory looked at the pool, at the visions of futures that might be. Then she looked at her friends—Isolde, her silver hair glowing in the dim light, and Nyx, their violet eyes burning with determination.
She took a deep breath. "Then let’s go close a portal."