AI Rory’s boots met packed earth, the sudden solidity a shock after the lurch of passage. Air, thick and sweet, filled her lungs, tasting of unfamiliar spices and ripening fruit. The sky above pulsed with a warm amber, not a cloud in sight, painting the sprawling landscape in hues of gold and orange. No sun, no moon, just that pervasive, luminous glow.
"Hel," she breathed, the word a rasp. The Heartstone Pendant, nestled against her sternum, warmed, a faint, rhythmic thrum vibrating through her.
Nyx coalesced beside her, the shadows drawing together into a towering, indistinct form. Its violet eyes, twin pinpricks of light in the dimness, swept over the vista.
"Precisely," Nyx's voice whispered, a current of air through dry leaves. "Dymas. The domain of excess."
Rory scanned the horizon. Gentle hills rolled away, draped in what looked like vineyards, but not as she knew them. Vines as thick as her leg coiled skyward, their leaves a deep, shimmering violet. Clusters of fruit, fat and luminous, hung heavy; some gleamed with an inner cyan light, others pulsed with a soft green. The air vibrated with the buzz of unseen insects, a low hum beneath the distant, echoing strains of what might have been music or a grand chorus. It felt both breathtaking and unsettling.
"No wonder it's Gluttony," Rory muttered, stepping forward . Her stride felt oddly heavy, the earth beneath her remarkably fertile yet unnervingly silent. No birdsong, no rustle of natural wind, only the omnipresent hum and the faint, sweet-sick aroma. She reached out, her fingers brushing a leaf from a nearby vine. It felt like cool velvet, leaving a faint , fruity residue on her skin. She sniffed her fingers. Overwhelmingly sweet.
"Resistance to its allure is… challenging," Nyx whispered, a faint shimmer preceding its movement further into the grove. Its form flowed, a graceful dance of encroaching darkness through the vibrant landscape.
Rory drew the Fae-Forged Blade. The moonsilver gleamed, a cool counterpoint to the warm amber glow. Its slender, leaf-shaped form felt perfectly balanced in her grip, a sliver of defiance against the overwhelming indulgence.
They moved between rows of the colossal vines. The ground here grew richer, darker, almost black, scattered with fallen, half-eaten fruits that glowed with a sickening brilliance. Rory watched for movement, her gaze darting from shadow to shadow. The silence , broken only by the hum, pressed in. This realm was opulent, yes, but it felt empty, hollow.
A path, paved with smooth, dark stone, appeared, winding deeper amidst groves of what looked like fruit trees, their branches laden. Each tree bore different fruits, impossible colours and shapes. One tree offered clusters of elongated, crimson berries that wept thick, clear sap onto the path. Another held segmented, iridescent pods, each scale the size of her palm, shimmering like oil slicks.
"It’s almost too much," Rory said, pushing a stray strand of black hair from her eyes. Every sense felt assaulted, overwhelmed by the sheer variety and intensity . Her stomach churned, not from hunger, but from the dizzying, cloying richness of the air.
Nyx paused, a shadow lengthening by a tree laden with fat, golden globes, each studded with tiny, pulsating blue veins. "The intention."
"To consume," Rory finished, her voice flat . She saw now. It wasn't just physical food; it was a feast for the eyes, the nose, the mind. A constant, unending demand on the senses.
They ventured deeper. The path widened, opening into a gargantuan garden. Here, plants grew in impossible formations: towering spirals of crimson blossoms, bushes that resembled intricate spun-sugar sculptures, trees with bark like polished obsidian, bearing luminous, bell-shaped fruits that chimed softly in a nonexistent breeze. Large, crystalline fountains burbled in the distance, sending arcing sprays of glistening liquid into decorative pools. The liquid within those pools pulsed , reflecting the amber sky and the vibrant flora in dizzying patterns.
Rory approached one of these fountains. The water, if it was water, was thick, swirling with flecks of gold. It emanated a potent, sweet aroma, different from the air, like honeyed wine. Her throat tightened. This was engineered seduction, every fibre of Dymas designed to tempt, to overwhelm.
"The architects of this realm understand human desires," Nyx’s whisper drifted from behind her. "And how to bend them."
Rory’s bright blue eyes narrowed . "No Wardens here, I take it." The thought had been nagging at her. On Earth, they'd monitor rifts. Here? She clenched her grip on the Fae-Forged Blade. "Just the… Prince?"
"Belphegor," Nyx articulated, a faint shift in its form suggesting a nod. "His domains are well-maintained, but not guarded in the traditional sense against new arrivals. Rather, they are designed to ensnare."
A faint, rhythmic thumping echoed now, growing louder, accompanied by low, resonant voices. They came from further ahead, beyond a massive hedge maze of glowing emerald foliage. Rory instinctively pressed closer to Nyx, her heart thudding a faster rhythm against her ribs.
"Sounds like a party," she muttered, the sarcasm thin .
"Or a contest," Nyx corrected, its form becoming slightly less ethereal . "Culinary challenges, gladiatorial feasts. The Dymasian courts thrive on competitive indulgence."
Rory peered through a gap in the emerald leaves. Beyond, a vast arena opened up. Grandstands, sculpted from what looked like dark, polished wood, curved around a circular stage. But this wasn’t a stage for gladiators. It was a colossal kitchen. Cauldrons the size of small cars bubbled over roaring , enclosed fires. Chefs, their forms humanoid but elongated and subtly alien, moved with focused intensity , stirring steaming stews, carving enormous, unnamed roasts, decorating confections that glowed with an internal light. The air here was even heavier, thicker with the scent of countless dishes – sweet, savory, pungent, sour, all clashing and blending into a single, overwhelming feast for the nose.
The thumping had been the rhythmic chopping of colossal blades on immense cutting boards. The voices, a blend of excited murmurs from the unseen audience in the stands, and the sharp commands of the judges patrolling the arena floor.
"They're cooking," Rory whispered, her gaze wide . "For an audience?"
"Consumption is an art form here, Aurora," Nyx stated. "And spectacle. Mortals who linger too long, who give themselves over to the initial temptations of Gluttony, often find themselves drawn into service. To create, for eternity, the very excess that enthralled them."
A shiver traced its way down Rory’s spine, despite the inherent warmth of Dymas. "Helbound souls," she recalled. The horror of it solidified in her mind. To be condemned to a never-ending cycle of producing the very thing that damned you. The thought was chilling .
She looked at her hands, then back at the gleaming Fae-Forged Blade. Its coldness, its sharp edge, felt like a vital anchor in this place of soft, cloying excess. She glanced at Nyx, their shadowed form an inscrutable sentinel beside her.
"We need to find a way through this," Rory stated, her voice quiet but firm . "Not join the cooking show." The thought of remaining in Dymas, even for a moment longer than necessary, filled her with a profound sense of urgency. The warmth of the Heartstone suddenly felt less comforting , more like a brand. It wasn't just a guide; it was a beacon , here, in the heart of Hel. It pulled, gently , insistently, towards something deeper within the realm.
"The path forward is rarely the obvious one," Nyx intoned, its eyes seeming to focus on a different part of the arena, perhaps beyond the immediate spectacle. "Especially when every avenue presents a silken snare."
Rory took a deep breath, the spiced, sweet air doing little to steady her. The sight of the monstrous kitchen spectacle, the alien chefs, the unseen, ravenous audience – it all pressed in, a physical weight . The grandeur of Dymas was a hollow shell, masking a dreadful, consuming truth. She tightened her grip on the Fae-Forged Blade, its sharp edge a promise against the realm’s insidious embrace.