Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7J3AZ2GF1VMFGC1JFJ0NK

Aurora gripped the Heartstone Pendant tighter, its crimson glow pulsing against her palm like a frantic heartbeat. She stood at the edge of Richmond Park, where the trees twisted into unnatural arches, their branches whispering secrets to the wind. Nyx hovered beside her, a shifting silhouette of shadow that stretched and contracted with the fading daylight. Isolde lingered a step behind, her silver hair catching the last rays of sun, her pale lavender eyes scanning the air as if reading invisible threads. "This rift hums with hunger," Isolde murmured, her voice weaving through the rustle of leaves like a riddle uncoiling. "Step lightly, or it devours what you carry." Aurora glanced at Nyx, whose form rippled. "Hunger for what? Souls? Secrets?" She kept her tone sharp, pushing forward through the underbrush, the pendant's warmth guiding her like a compass needle. Nyx's whisper slithered through the air, faint and wind-borne. "Not souls, Rory. Excess. This tear in the Veil leads to Dymas, where gluttony reigns. Belphegor's domain. Touch nothing unless you crave eternity's bloat." They pressed on, the air thickening with a sweet, cloying scent that clawed at Aurora's throat. Ancient oak standing stones loomed ahead, their bark etched with glowing runes that flickered like dying embers. As they crossed the threshold, the world blurred. Time stretched, then snapped. An hour in the grove felt like a fleeting breath, but this rift yanked them elsewhere. Aurora's stomach lurched as colors inverted—greens bled to amber, the sky above cracking open into a warm, honeyed expanse. She stumbled out first, boots sinking into soil that pulsed underfoot, alive and fertile. Vines snaked across the ground, heavy with fruits she'd never seen: orbs of deep purple that shimmered like liquid metal, clusters of berries that dripped nectar onto the earth, staining it gold. The air hummed with distant laughter, overlaid by the sizzle of flames and the clatter of utensils. Heat washed over her, not oppressive but inviting, wrapping around her skin like a lover's embrace. "Look at this," Aurora breathed, crouching to brush a vine. It coiled around her finger, gentle at first, then insistent, pulling her toward a sprawling orchard where trees bowed under the weight of swollen peaches, their skins splitting to reveal flesh that glowed faintly. Nyx solidified slightly, their violet eyes glowing brighter in the amber light. "Careful. These groves feed on desire. One bite, and you forget the way back." Isolde glided forward, her feet leaving no imprint on the lush grass. Wildflowers bloomed in her wake, alien to this place—petals of iridescent blue that unfurled and withered in seconds. "The Prince's garden tempts the famished. See how the fruits whisper promises? Eternal satisfaction, they claim, but chains lie in the seeds." Aurora yanked her hand free, the vine retracting with a soft, disappointed sigh. Unease prickled her spine as she scanned the horizon. Massive stone halls rose in the distance, their walls carved with feasts in bas-relief: figures gorging on platters piled high, mouths stretched wide in ecstasy or agony. Smoke curled from chimneys, carrying scents of roasted spices and caramelized sugars that made her mouth water despite herself. She swallowed hard, fingers tracing the crescent scar on her wrist, a reminder of earthly pains. They moved deeper, the path widening into a boulevard lined with trellises. Grapevines twisted overhead, grapes swelling to the size of fists, their skins translucent and veined with light. A breeze carried snippets of conversation—voices booming with laughter, then dropping to greedy murmurs. "Smell that? Like every craving you've ever buried," Aurora said, her bright blue eyes narrowing as she spotted movement ahead. Figures shuffled between the vines, their forms hunched and bloated, eyes glazed with perpetual hunger. One turned, a soul bound here, cheeks smeared with juice, lips moving in silent pleas. Nyx drifted closer, their shadowy form blending with the lengthening shadows cast by the amber sky. "Helbound chefs, contracted from your world. They cook for demons, forever tasting but never sated. Listen—their knives sing." A rhythmic chopping echoed from a nearby pavilion, blades flashing against slabs of meat that writhed as if still alive. Aurora's pulse quickened. Wonder bloomed in her chest, mingling with a creeping dread. This place pulsed with life, every leaf and fruit vibrating with energy, yet it felt wrong, like a dream teetering on nightmare. She reached for the Fae-Forged Blade at her belt, its moonsilver cold against her skin, a stark contrast to the pendant's insistent warmth. Isolde tilted her head, her long silver hair swaying like a curtain of moonlight. "Deeper lies the heart of indulgence. Feasts that span horizons, where tables groan under bounties from realms unseen. But beware the competitors—they wager more than gold." As they crested a gentle hill, the scene unfolded. A vast clearing sprawled before them, dotted with enormous banquet tables hewn from petrified wood, laden with dishes that defied logic: towers of pastries that shifted colors, soups bubbling in cauldrons carved from crystal, meats skewered on bones that hummed tunes. Demons lounged at the edges, their forms grotesque and elegant—horns curling like vines, skins patterned with fruit motifs. One belched a plume of scented smoke, eyes locking onto the newcomers with predatory gleam. Aurora froze, heart pounding. The air thrummed with a low, resonant hum, as if the ground itself digested the excesses. She felt it in her bones, a pull to join, to taste, to lose herself. "This is insane. It's like the world decided to throw a party and forgot to invite restraint." Nyx's form flickered, unease evident in the way their shadows sharpened. "Insane, yes. Wondrous, too. See those orchards beyond? They bear fruits that grant visions—or madness. Aldric tasted one once, before I became this. It showed me realms folding into each other." Isolde nodded, her ethereal features tightening. "Visions that mislead, as Fae truths do. The Veil thins here, shimmering like a veil torn by greedy hands. Touch it, and Hel claims a piece of you." They ventured toward a garden maze, hedges bursting with blossoms that released puffs of pollen, each grain sparkling like tiny stars. Aurora brushed one, and colors exploded in her vision—flashes of her Cardiff childhood, superimposed with feasts she'd never attended. She shook her head, disoriented, the wonder turning sharp. "Something's watching us," she said, voice low as she drew the blade. It glowed faintly, cutting through an illusory vine that sprang up to block their path. The air split with a hiss, revealing a hidden alcove where a fountain bubbled wine instead of water, its surface rippling with faces trapped in silent screams. Nyx extended a tendril of shadow, probing the fountain's edge. "Souls diluted into drink. Refreshing for some, torment for others. Feel the chill? That's their regret seeping through." Isolde circled the fountain, her compulsion to mislead twisting her words into poetry. "Drink deep, and knowledge flows. Or drown in what you learn." Aurora resisted the urge, stepping back. The unease gnawed deeper now, the alien beauty revealing its teeth. Birds—or what passed for them here—flitted overhead, wings made of folded pastry that crumbled in flight, raining sweetness onto the ground. One landed nearby, pecking at seeds that sprouted instantly into miniature trees. They pushed on, the environment shifting subtly. The amber sky deepened to ochre, casting long shadows that danced independently. A grand amphitheater emerged, ringed by statues of bloated figures, their stone eyes following the group's movement. Echoes of cheers reverberated from within, where culinary battles unfolded: chefs wielding flames like weapons, conjuring dishes that levitated and sang. "Listen to that roar," Aurora said, creeping to the edge. Demons and souls clashed spatulas against pans, creating symphonies of sound and scent. One creation—a pie that breathed steam in rhythmic puffs—elicited gasps of awe from the crowd. Nyx whispered closer, their voice a cool breeze against her ear. "Wonder turns to unease here. These competitions bind winners to eternal service, losers to the pits below." Isolde's eyes gleamed with faint luminescence. "Pits where excess ferments into poison. Feel the ground tremble? It hungers for more." Aurora felt it—a subtle vibration underfoot, like the earth digesting secrets. She moved deeper into the amphitheater's shadow, discovering a side path lined with reflective pools. Each pool mirrored not the sky, but alternate feasts: banquets in underwater realms, skies filled with floating delicacies. Touching the water sent ripples through her mind, fragments of lore bubbling up unbidden—tales of Belphegor's indolence, his throne of cushions stuffed with forgotten desires. Unease coiled tighter as a shadowy figure detached from the statues, approaching with deliberate slowness. It resembled a chef, apron stained with iridescent sauces, but its eyes burned with infernal fire. "You wander far for mortals," it growled, voice thick with oil and spice. "Taste our wares, or compete. Dymas welcomes all appetites." Aurora brandished the blade, its cold edge humming. "We're not here to eat. Show us the way to the Prince's core." The figure laughed, a sound like cracking bones. "Core? That's for the bold or the foolish. Follow the vines—they lead to indulgence's heart." They retreated, the encounter leaving a bitter aftertaste in the air. Deeper still, the landscape morphed into terraced fields where grains waved like golden seas, harvested by ethereal hands that faded in and out of visibility. Aurora ran her fingers through the stalks, feeling their unnatural softness, each kernel pulsing with warmth. "This place... it's alive in ways Earth isn't," she said, wonder edging out the fear for a moment. "Everything grows, feeds, consumes." Nyx nodded, their form stretching to touch a blooming flower that unfurled petals revealing tiny, edible gems. "Alive, yes. But parasitic. It draws from the Veil's rifts, pulling essence from your world." Isolde paused at a clearing's edge, where a massive tree dominated, its trunk a coiled mass of roots forming natural seats. Fruits dangled low, inviting plucks. "Sit, and stories unfold from the bark. But rise, and you carry its weight forever." Aurora resisted, pressing onward. The air grew heavier, laden with perfumes that evoked memories—her mother's kitchen in Cardiff, mingled with the acrid tang of Evan's betrayal. Unease peaked as illusions flickered: feasts that dissolved into skeletal remains, laughter twisting to wails. They discovered a hidden glade, encircled by bioluminescent fungi that cast eerie glows. In the center, a table set for three, dishes steaming with unknown delicacies. The pendant burned hotter against her chest, signaling proximity to something profound. "Look," Aurora whispered, pointing to inscriptions on the table's edge—symbols of gluttony, etched in glowing script. Nyx's shadows coiled protectively. "A trap disguised as welcome. Eat, and Dymas claims you." Isolde traced the symbols without touching. "Claims, but reveals. The Prince's secrets lie in the flavors." As they circled the table, the ground shifted again, vines creeping closer, the alien wonder of Dymas pressing in from all sides, a symphony of temptation and terror that refused to relent.