Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY84CAMBXAV9TMQYNJPTDWQ

The air hung thick and sweet, a cloying perfume of overripe fruit and blooming jasmine. Rory pushed a stray strand of black hair behind her ear, her bright blue eyes scanning the riot of color. Richmond Park had dissolved behind them, replaced by a pocket of impossible spring. Wildflowers carpeted the ground in shades she hadn’t known existed, twisting around the gnarled roots of ancient oak trees. Isolde’s grove wasn’t a place you stumbled into; it *allowed* you to enter. “Time’s a slippery thing here,” Isolde murmured, her voice barely audible over the drone of bees the size of Rory’s thumb. The Half-Fae floated rather than walked, her silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. “An hour here could be a day gone by when you step back out. Or a heartbeat.” Beside Rory, Nyx rippled, their form solidifying from near-transparency as they took in the grove. They stretched, joints clicking like dry branches. “Fascinating. The weave of magic… denser than anything I’ve felt outside of Dymas.” Rory adjusted the strap of her messenger bag, the weight of the Fae-Forged Blade a cold comfort against her hip. She glanced down at her wrist, tracing the crescent-shaped scar. It hadn’t itched in days, a subtle tell that something significant was brewing. “You sure this is the place, Isolde? It’s… pretty.” Isolde’s pale lavender eyes sparkled with amusement. “Pretty is a human construct. This place *is*. And it is a gateway. Though not to where you intend, perhaps.” “We intend to find a way to close the rift near Silas’ bar,” Nyx clarified, their voice a whisper that seemed to snake around the trees. “The one that’s been drawing… attention.” The Heartstone Pendant warmed against Rory’s skin, a faint pulse that echoed the thrumming energy of the grove. She hadn’t told them about the pendant, not entirely. It had appeared on her doorstep a week ago, a small silver chain holding a gemstone the color of dried blood. It had practically screamed *danger* since she’d touched it, tailing her with an insistent heat whenever she neared the growing disturbance. “The rift draws strength from Dymas,” Isolde continued, ignoring the exchange. She gestured towards a circle of standing stones, draped with luminous moss. “The Gluttony realm. Prince Belphegor’s domain. A place of endless feasts and bottomless appetites. Your rift is a leak, a spillover of excess. It feeds on indulgence.” Rory frowned. “Great. Just great. So, a place that runs on everyone’s worst habits.” “More than habits, child. *Needs*.” Isolde’s gaze drifted past Rory, unfocused. “The realm reflects the hearts of those who fall within its grasp. And yours… offers a particularly potent flavor.” Nyx’s violet eyes narrowed. “Isolde, are you deliberately being obtuse?” “Merely observant.” The Half-Fae smiled, a chillingly serene expression. “To reach a point where you can sever the connection, you must understand the source. And to understand the source… you must journey closer.” Isolde moved towards the standing stones, her footsteps silent on the flower-strewn ground. The air grew noticeably colder as she approached, a prickling sensation on Rory’s skin. She followed, Nyx flanking her, their shadowy form shifting and reforming with each step. Between the stones lay a path, barely visible, woven from moonlight and shadow. It pulsed with a soft, ethereal glow. “This isn’t on any map,” Rory said, stating the obvious. Even the scent of the wildflowers seemed muted here, replaced by the metallic tang of ozone. “Maps chart the physical world. This… is elsewhere,” Nyx replied, already stepping onto the path. Their form flickered, deepening in color. The moment Rory crossed the threshold, the grove vanished. The vibrant colors dissolved into a haze of amber and gold. The air grew heavy, saturated with the aroma of roasting meats, spiced wine, and something else… something sickeningly sweet and decadent. They stood on the edge of a vast, sprawling vineyard, the vines laden with grapes the size of fists. Beyond the vineyard, rolling hills gave way to orchards overflowing with exotic fruits Rory couldn’t name. In the distance, a colossal palace shimmered, constructed from what looked like spun sugar and gilded pastries. The sky above wasn't blue but a permanent, warm amber, casting a perpetual golden hour over the landscape. “By the shadows…” Nyx breathed, their voice losing some of its usual composure. “This is… excessive.” People—or beings resembling people—moved among the vines and orchards. They were draped in silks and jewels, their faces flushed with pleasure as they gorged themselves on endless delicacies. Some were attended by shadowy figures who seemed to anticipate their every whim. Rory noticed many were… changing. Hands morphing into claws, eyes widening with an unsettling hunger. “Belphegor’s guests,” Isolde observed, her voice devoid of emotion. “Souls given over to their desires. They come here seeking pleasure, and find… something else entirely.” A group of revelers noticed them. Laughter died in their throats, replaced by appraising stares. A man with a ruby encrusted beard and a vacant smile detached himself from the group and drifted towards them, his movements languid and unsettling. "Well now," he drawled, his voice thick with wine. “New faces. Haven’t seen those in… quite a while. Lost, little travelers?” Rory instinctively reached for the Fae blade, her fingers brushing against the cold steel. “Just passing through.” The man chuckled, a wet, gurgling sound. “Passing through? Here? No one merely *passes* through Dymas. Everyone stays. Everyone indulges.” He gestured towards a table groaning under the weight of food. “Come, join the feast. Try the ambrosia pears. They’re divine.” Nyx stepped forward, their shadow extending to engulf the man. “We have no interest in your… hospitality.” The man didn’t flinch. “Oh, but you do. Everyone does. It's simply a matter of admitting it. And haven't you noticed? Everything here is free. All you have to do is *want*." Isolde placed a hand on Rory’s arm, her touch surprisingly firm. “Do not engage. He’s testing you, probing for vulnerabilities.” Rory scanned the crowd. Every face was slick with greed, with need. The initial wonder of the place quickly soured into a chilling sense of unease. They’d stepped into a gilded cage, a beautiful prison built on excess and despair. “What are you looking for?" the man continued, his gaze lingering on Rory, a predatory gleam entering his eyes. "Perhaps a little taste of paradise? Or are you hunting something… more substantial?” He took a step closer, and the Heartstone Pendant burned against Rory’s chest, a searing heat that threatened to blister her skin. It pulsed faster, frantic now, directing her gaze towards the colossal palace in the distance.