Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYB3TVJAT0PM6TQ00HZTG8K

Aurora gripped the Heartstone Pendant tighter. Its deep crimson core throbbed like a second heartbeat, heat seeping through her fingers and up her arm. The silver chain bit into her skin. Beside her, Nyx's shadowy form rippled, solidifying into a tall silhouette under the faint moonlight filtering through Richmond Park's ancient oaks. Isolde stood ahead, her silver hair swaying like mist, pale lavender eyes fixed on the shimmering distortion ahead—the Veil's tear, jagged and pulsing in sync with the pendant. "Threads hunger pulls taut," Isolde murmured, her voice a chime lost in wind. She extended a hand, fingers tracing the air. No footprints marked the dew-kissed grass behind her. Nyx leaned forward, violet glow sharpening in their eyes. "Smell it already. Ripeness beyond flesh." Aurora swallowed. The air hummed, charged like storm-static. She nodded once. They moved as one, stepping through the distortion. Heat enveloped them first. Not fire's bite, but a languid embrace, amber light flooding from a sky stretched taut like honeyed glass. Aurora blinked against the glow. Ground squelched underfoot—rich soil, black as ink, veined with glowing fungi that pulsed in rhythm with her pendant. Vines thicker than her thigh coiled around obsidian trunks, heavy with fruits the size of fists: skins bruised purple, splitting to ooze nectar that steamed in the warmth. "Look." Nyx pointed, their whisper slicing the humid air. Shadowy hand passed through a low-hanging cluster without touch. Juice splattered the soil, releasing a scent of caramelized sugar laced with something sharper, like blood-wine. Aurora knelt, touched a droplet. It clung to her fingertip, warm, viscous. Her stomach growled unbidden. She wiped it off on her jeans, stood. "Keeps pulling. Deeper." Isolde glided ahead, waist-length hair brushing fruits that quivered at her passage. "Roots drink deep where mouths forget to close." Paths wound between orchards, bark etched with faces—mouths agape, eyes hollowed pits weeping sap. Laughter echoed distant, a cacophony of wet smacks and guttural moans, undercut by stringed instruments plucking at the spine. Aurora's boots sank into loam soft as entrails. Sweat beaded her forehead despite the evening chill they'd left behind. The Fae-Forged Blade at her belt hummed cold against her hip, a counterpoint to the pendant's fever. Nyx flowed beside her, incorporeal now, weaving through vines. "Hear the feasts. Chefs hammer souls into platters." Aurora crested a rise. Below sprawled terraced gardens, levels cascading into haze. Exotic blooms unfurled petals wide as platters, centers throbbing with nectar pools where iridescent insects drowned in bliss. Hedges sculpted into reclining figures clutched goblets overflowing with bubbling liquors. Steam rose from pits where cauldrons bubbled, helbound souls—translucent figures in aprons stained crimson—stirred vats with bones as ladles. One soul hefted a haunch of meat, veins still pulsing, and plunged it into oil that spat golden arcs. "God." Aurora's breath caught. A fruit dangled near her face, split open by its own weight. Seeds gleamed like polished teeth. She batted it away. Hunger clawed her gut, sharper now. Isolde paused at a fountain carved from veined marble. Water—no, wine—spurted from mouths of carved cherubs, pooling in basins etched with runes that fizzed on contact. She dipped a finger, lifted it glistening. "Sips that drown the throat in echoes." Nyx solidified, snatched a low berry. Shadow fingers crushed it. Purple pulp sprayed, and they inhaled deep. "Tastes of forgotten hungers. Mortal vice, amplified." Aurora snatched the pendant chain, held it aloft. The glow intensified, pointing toward a vineyard slope where grapes swelled monstrous, skins translucent, pulp shifting like living gel. "This way. It's leading." They descended, air thickening with spice—cinnamon bark, smoked flesh, blooms rotting sweet. Laughter swelled closer, a banquet hall's roar spilling from colonnades of bone-white stone draped in living moss. Servitors—hulking shades with bellies distended—lurched past, trays balanced on palms scarred from eternal toil. One dropped a platter; pies burst open, fillings writhing like maggots before dissolving into steam. Unease prickled Aurora's neck. The ground pulsed underfoot, syncing with her steps, urging her toward the scents. Her mouth watered. She clenched teeth. "Too much. Feels like it's... watching." Nyx's eyes flared violet. "Gluttony's gaze fattens on want. Prince's domain breathes temptation." Isolde wove through trellises heavy with vines that snagged at clothing, thorns drawing beads of blood that vines lapped up. "Breathe shallow where fullness blooms eternal." Deeper, the path narrowed into a grotto. Walls dripped with honeycombs, combs alive with bees the size of fists, wings humming dirges. Central pool reflected the amber sky, surface rippling with half-formed faces mouthing pleas. Aurora edged closer. A hand breached the water—pale, clawing—before submerging with a slurp. "Back." Nyx yanked her arm, shadow grip chill. But curiosity burned. Aurora peered in. Depths swirled with fish scales and pearlized orbs—eyes? staring up. Isolde circled the pool, skirt trailing ripples. "Eyes feast on light denied. Dive, and surfaces shatter." Aurora retreated, pulse racing. The pendant yanked her onward, past groves where trees bore candied limbs—fingers, toes—glazed and proffered on branches. Wind carried moans of ecstasy, bodies entwined in hammocks of spider-silk, skins stretched taut over endless indulgence. Nyx darted ahead, reappearing with a plucked bloom. Petals unfolded in their palm, revealing a core of pulsing meat. "Hearts of orchard beasts. Beat for the knife." Aurora waved it off. "Don't. Feels wrong." Yet her hand trembled. Saliva pooled. The blade at her hip warmed, moonsilver edge itching to cut. Terraces leveled into a plaza. Tables groaned under spreads: towers of pastries flaking gold, roasts carved mid-bleed, fruits sculpted into nudes that wept juice. Diners—mortals? shades?—gorged, cheeks ballooned, bellies swelling to split seams, reforming in loops of excess. A chef soul bowed to them, offering skewers of glistening orbs. "Fresh-picked hungers, travelers," the soul rasped, voice wet gravel. "Prince Belphegor's vintage. One bite, and voids fill." Isolde tilted her head, lavender eyes distant. "Bites circle back to hollows carved wider." Aurora's stomach twisted. Wonder warred with revulsion—the colors vivid, scents intoxicating, every curve of fruit and flesh engineered for crave. Nyx hovered near a vat, inhaling steam that coiled like lovers' breaths. "Try it," Nyx urged, whisper husky. "Shadows crave solidity here." "No." Aurora pulled them along. The pendant throbbed insistent, veering toward shadowed arches beyond the plaza. Music swelled—harps strung with veins, drums of taut hides slapping rhythms that matched heartbeats. They slipped under the arches. Cooler air rushed in, laced with fermentation's tang. Barrels lined walls, staves bulging, leaks forming puddles that bubbled like broth. Grapes fermented in open vats, helbound souls knee-deep, trampling pulp that splashed crimson. One soul locked eyes with Aurora, face melting into ecstasy mid-stomp. Deeper still, caverns yawned. Crystals jutted from ceilings, refracting amber light into rainbows that danced on walls slick with dew—nectar dew, sweet and cloying. Echoes multiplied: slurps, burps, sighs of overfull release. Aurora's legs burned. Sweat soaked her shirt. The pendant's heat spread to her chest, visions flickering—endless plates, her hands plunging in. She shook her head. "This place... it feeds on you." Nyx reformed fully, height towering. "Feeds, and we feed back. Balance in bloat." Isolde halted at a junction. Three paths branched: one to roaring kitchens, flames licking eternal meats; another to slumbering gardens where sleepers dreamed feasts; the third plunged into darkness pulsing faint crimson. Pendant swung toward the third. Aurora stepped forward. Air grew heavier, whispers coiling like smoke. "Shadows thicken where gluttony starves," Isolde intoned. Nyx's form frayed at edges. "Deeper hungers lurk." Aurora gripped her blade's hilt. Cold moonsilver grounded her. They pressed on, the cavern swallowing light, sounds muting to wet heartbeats echoing from unseen depths. Fruits dangled from stalactites, brushing shoulders, splitting on contact to stain skin with addictive stickiness. A distant roar built—feast or beast?—as vines closed in, leaves rustling invitations. One vine snagged Aurora's ankle. She slashed free with the blade; it parted like mist, spraying ichor that sizzled on stone. Nyx laughed low, a wind-rush. "Cuts clean. Fae work bites back here." Further, bioluminescent fungi carpeted floors, spores puffing clouds that tingled lungs, igniting phantom tastes on tongues. Aurora coughed, visions sharpening: tables infinite, her form bloating in mirror pools. Unease coiled tight. Yet wonder pulled—crystals chimed symphonies, air alive with promise of satiation unbound. Isolde's bare feet skimmed spores untouched. "Spores sow seeds of want unending." They rounded a bend. Vast chamber opened: ceiling lost in haze, floor a mosaic of feast remnants—bones polished, shells cracked, husks gleaming. Central altar bore a chalice overflowing froth that sang on spill. Helbound figures circled it, chanting in tongues that twisted bowels. Aurora froze. Pendant blazed, chain scorching. The air thrummed invitation.