Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ9551A8TAFJ9AYFSF4GA2Y7

The London mist clung to Aurora’s lungs, a damp weight that tasted of exhaust and cold river water. She adjusted the strap of her bag, her thumb brushing the Heartstone Pendant through the fabric of her coat. The crimson gem remained dormant, a cold lump against her chest. Beside her, Nyx existed as a smudge against the concrete, a silhouette that swallowed the streetlamp’s yellow glow without reflecting a single photon. Isolde Varga didn't look back as she stepped off the gravel path of Richmond Park. The Half-Fae’s silver hair trailed behind her like a comet’s tail, reaching down to her waist. Her feet moved with a rhythmic, haunting grace, leaving the dew-heavy grass undisturbed. "The seam is thin here." Isolde pointed a slender finger toward a cluster of ancient oaks. Between two gnarled trunks, the air didn't just shimmer; it curdled. It looked like oil on water, a greasy distortion that blurred the trees behind it into smears of impossible color. Aurora drew the Fae-Forged Blade. The moonsilver hilt sat ice-cold in her palm, the metal leeching the heat from her skin. "Is this the Veil?" Nyx’s voice drifted past her ear, a dry whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. "It is a wound. A doorway kept open by things that do not wish to be forgotten." Isolde stepped into the distortion. One moment her boot touched the edge of the London grass; the next, she vanished as if she’d walked behind a mirror. Aurora took a breath, gripped the cold moon-silver tighter, and plunged through the ripple. The transition felt like a sudden plunge into deep, freezing water. Her ears popped. The pressure in her skull spiked and then vanished, replaced by a lightness that made her knees feel weak. She stood on a carpet of wildflowers that defied every season she knew. Bluebells the size of tea sets bloomed alongside autumnal crocuses and spring lilies. Their petals didn't just vibrate with color; they pulsed. A soft, rhythmic hum rose from the ground, vibrating through the soles of Aurora's boots. The sky above wasn't the charcoal grey of a London night. It glowed with a bruised, sunset purple, though no sun was visible. Massive standing stones made of petrified oak circled the clearing, their surfaces etched with runes that bled silver light. "Time feels... incorrect." Aurora checked her watch. The second hand twitched, moved backward three spaces, then spun rapidly in a clockwise circle before snapping off the pin. She dropped her arm. Nyx solidified beside her. Their violet eyes glowed with a sharper intensity, reflecting the alien flora. They reached out a shadowy hand toward a nearby flower. The moment their form neared the petals, the blossom hissed and folded inward, turning into a sharp, obsidian thorn. "The life here is aggressive. It recognizes the static nature of your soul, Shadow-Kin." Isolde stood in the center of the grove, her pale lavender eyes fixed on the canopy. Overhead, the branches of the ancient oaks didn't just sway; they reached and retracted, weaving together in a slow-motion dance that blocked out the violet sky. "Everything is breathing," Aurora whispered. She reached out to touch one of the standing stones. The petrified wood felt warm, like a feverish forehead. Beneath the bark, she could swear she felt a pulse—slow, tectonic, and immensely powerful. The moon-silver dagger in her other hand began to glow, a soft luminescent white that cut through the kaleidoscopic shadows of the grove. "It reacts to the blade." Isolde turned her head, her expression unreadable and ageless. "Moonsilver remembers its home. You carry a piece of the moon into a land that has never known its light." A heavy, sweet scent filled the air—overripe peaches and ozone. It was cloying, sticking to the back of Aurora’s throat. She moved deeper into the grove, following a path of white pebbles that looked suspiciously like polished teeth. The silence here was absolute, yet noisy. There was no wind, no birdsong, no city hum. Instead, there was the sound of growth—the wet crackle of stems expanding, the soft rustle of leaves that moved of their own accord, and the distant, rhythmic thumping of the grove's heart. "Look at the water." Nyx pointed a flickering finger toward a basin carved into the roots of the largest oak. The liquid inside wasn't water. It was thick and silver, flowing upward in tiny, gravity-defying droplets that vanished into the leaves above. Aurora leaned over the pool. Her reflection didn't show her face. Instead, it showed a girl with eyes of fire and skin like cracked porcelain, a version of herself she didn't recognize. She jerked back, her hand flying to the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. The scar tingled, a dull ache radiating through her arm. "The grove shows possibilities, not truths." Isolde’s voice sounded muffled, as if she were speaking through a heavy curtain. "Do not look too long, Aurora. The Fae realm eats the identity of those who linger at the mirror’s edge." The ground beneath them groaned. A massive root, thick as a man’s torso and covered in glowing moss, shifted across the pebble path. It moved with the deliberate grace of a python, resettling itself with a thud that shook the earth. Aurora stepped over the root, her boots sinking into a patch of moss that felt like velvet-covered sponge. Small, translucent insects with wings made of literal stained glass rose from the moss, circling her head in a dizzying pattern. They made no sound as they flew, but where their wings brushed her skin, she felt a spark of static electricity. "The air is getting thicker." Aurora wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. Despite the coolness of the moonsilver blade, the grove felt like a greenhouse—stifling and humid. The scent of the flowers was becoming intoxicating, a sugary weight that made her head swim. The Heartstone Pendant against her chest suddenly flared with heat. It didn't pulse; it burned. Aurora hissed, clutching at the fabric of her shirt as a dull, red light began to bleed through the cotton. "It’s reacting to something." Nyx stepped in front of her, their shadowy form expanding, the violet light in their eyes turning to narrow slits. "Something is under us." The rhythmic thumping accelerated. The standing stones began to vibrate, the silver runes on their surfaces glowing so bright they burned afterimages into Aurora's retinas. The white pebbles on the path began to dance, rattling against one another like dice in a cup. Isolde didn't move. She stood with her arms at her sides, watching the center of the grove where the petrified oaks met. The ground there began to spiral downward, the earth folding in on itself like a closing iris. "The gate is not just a place." Isolde’s lavender eyes remained fixed on the opening. "It is a hunger." A gush of amber light erupted from the hole in the ground. It wasn't the soft, bruised violet of the grove's sky, but a harsh, golden glare that smelled of roasted meat and expensive wine. The heat increased tenfold, scorched-earth dry and heavy with the scent of unwashed excess. Aurora raised her hand to shield her eyes, the Heartstone Pendant now thudding in sync with the violent vibrations of the earth. The Fae flowers near the opening shriveled instantly, their vibrant colors turning to grey ash in the wake of the heat. "Dymas." Nyx’s voice was barely a breath, a sliver of shadow forced to withdraw from the encroaching amber light. Aurora gripped the hilt of the moonsilver dagger until her knuckles turned white. The transition from the ethereal, alien beauty of the grove to this raw, suffocating heat felt like a physical blow. She stepped toward the edge of the spiraling iris, the light reflecting off the blade in her hand. Below the opening, a landscape of sprawling vineyards stretched out under a warm amber sky. Even from this height, she could see the glint of gold-leafed towers and the movement of figures gathered around long, laden tables. The air rising from the pit carried the sound of distant, raucous laughter and the clatter of silverware. "We go down." Isolde didn't wait for an answer. She stepped into the void, her silver hair flowing upward as she descended into the amber glow of the Gluttony realm. Aurora looked at Nyx. The Shade flickered, their form unstable in the harsh light, but they inclined their head. Aurora took a step forward, the soles of her boots crunching on the last of the pebble path before she tipped into the warmth.