AI The air itself tasted like overripe fruit, thick and humid, a cloying sweetness that settled on Rory’s tongue and coated the back of her throat. Her boots sank slightly with each step, not into mud, but into a kind of living, yielding carpet that gave off a faint, perfumed warmth . Her hand instinctively tightened around the silver chain of the Heartstone Pendant resting against her collarbone. It pulsed with a heat that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature, a steady, insistent thump like a captured bird.
"Careful," Nyx's voice, a dry whisper of wind through parched leaves, slithered past her ear. "The ground here… it *indulges *."
Indulges? Rory scanned the immediate surroundings. They stood in what appeared to be an impossibly lush grove. Trees, impossibly tall and slender, dripped with foliage that shimmered like spun sugar. Their bark resembled polished mahogany, dark and rich, interrupted by fissures from which oozed a viscous, amber sap that glowed with its own internal light. Great blossoms, larger than her head, unfurled petals in shades of bruised plum and burning coral, exhaling a perfume so potent it made her head swim. Vines, studded with crystalline berries that chimed with an ethereal, delicate sound when a stray tendril brushed against them, snaked across pathways that gleamed like obsidian mirrors. The sky above was a vast, unbroken canvas of warm amber, thick and hazy, bathing the entire landscape in a perpetual, syrupy twilight. It felt less like a sky and more like the inside of a giant, overripe fruit.
The Heartstone Pendant beat against her skin, a frantic, feverish rhythm. It had only ever pulsed like this near a significant rift, a tear in the Veil. But this wasn't a tear; this was an ingress. A doorway. And it had delivered them to a place so saturated with alien wonder it bordered on the unnerving.
Nyx moved with their characteristic ethereal grace, a silhouette of living shadow against the overwhelming vibrancy. They paused, their vaguely humanoid form rippling, and tilted their head, as if listening to frequencies Rory couldn't perceive . "This place… it hums with consumption. A grand, endless banquet."
A banquet. The word settled into Rory’s mind, pulling up fragments of lore. Dymas. Gluttony. Prince Belphegor. A realm of excess. This was no mere landscape; it was a testament to an entire sin. The sheer abundance was overwhelming , a sensory overload designed to satiate every conceivable desire before one even knew they had it.
They followed a winding path paved with smooth, dark stones that felt unnervingly warm underfoot. The path led them deeper into the grove, past more of the fantastical flora. Fruits the size of a man’s torso hung heavy on branches, their skins rippling with iridescent patterns, weeping nectar that pooled on the ground and was immediately absorbed by the living carpet. The air grew heavier, the sweetness intensifying, laced now with an undertone of spice and something akin to roasting meat, impossibly rich and savoury.
Distant music began to drift towards them, a languid, winding melody played on instruments Rory couldn't identify. It was too pleasant, too persuasive, a siren song luring them further into the heart of this saccharine hell. Then, they heard other sounds beneath the music: the clatter of unseen kitchens, the murmur of countless voices, the distant, faint *ring * of what might have been delicate bells.
The grove opened into a vast, semi-circular plaza, centred around a tiered fountain that didn't spout water, but a thick, shimmering stream of liquid gold. Around the fountain, figures moved with fluid, unhurried grace. They were humanoid, clothed in flowing robes of deep gold, emerald, and ruby, their skin possessing a subtle, luminous quality. Their features were perfect , serene, sculpted from marble by an impossibly skilled artisan. These were the inhabitants, or perhaps the perpetual guests, of Dymas. Rory recognised the vacant perfection from her brief interactions with beings touched by Fae magic at its most decadent, but this was more profound , more deeply ingrained. They exuded an aura of absolute contentment, a placid bliss derived, Rory suspected, from more than just the sheer opulence surrounding them.
Moving between these figures were others, slighter, their faces smooth and unlined, their movements precise and utterly devoid of self. They bore trays laden with unimaginable delicacies: fruits that pulsed with bioluminescence, carved pastries shaped like mythical beasts, and steaming dishes that sent plumes of intoxicating aroma into the air. These were the helbound souls, their eternal servitude expressed not through chains and whips, but through the enforced perfection of service, their souls bound to the perpetuation of this endless feast. Rory watched one, whose tray held a single, impossibly perfect pear that glowed with an inner sapphire light, offering it to a robed figure. The helbound’s eyes, when they briefly flickered towards Rory, held a depthless void, a silent scream swallowed by the pervasive sweetness.
The pendant burned against her skin, its crimson light pulsing faster, radiating more heat. Nyx sensed it too. "This is beyond mere indulgence," they whispered, their form momentarily solidifying into a sharper silhouette, their violet eyes burning with an intensity Rory rarely saw. "This is an engineered paradise, a cage of pleasure. The Veil is not merely thin here, Rory. It is… permeated."
Rory’s sharp mind latched onto Nyx's words. Permeated? Not a portal, not a rift, but a pervasive thinning, allowing this realm’s essence to bleed into theirs, and theirs into this one. That would explain the pendant's frantic warning; it detected an unstable boundary, not a specific point of entry.
Driven by an instinct she couldn't articulate, Rory steered them towards a grand structure that dominated one side of the plaza. It appeared to be a pavilion, its roof a vast, shimmering canopy woven from what looked like solidified spun sugar, supported by pillars carved from colossal, dark chocolate bars. The air here was even denser, heavier with an intoxicating blend of baking, roasting, and a strange, sweet metallic tang. As they stepped within, the sounds of feasting intensified, the music swelling.
They found themselves in what appeared to be a vast, open-air kitchen or preparation hall. Immense hearths glowed with contained flames that burned with colours Rory had never conceived. Gleaming counters, made of polished ivory or petrified honeycomb, stretched endlessly, manned by figures in pristine white aprons, their faces obscured by tall, starched hats. The air throbbed with the controlled chaos of culinary mastery, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something ragged and desperate.
A small alcove set deep within the hall drew Rory’s attention. Unlike the pristine open spaces, it was shadowed , cluttered. Here, a single figure worked hunched over a massive, obsidian slab. It was not clad in the opulent robes of the honoured guests or the serene white of the helbound servants. Its form was gaunt, its skin a pale, unhealthy grey, stretched taut over sharp bones. Its robes, once fine, were now stained and torn, clinging to its skeletal frame. The figure worked with a frantic, almost manic energy, not preparing food, but *dismantling* something .
In its hands, it held a large, intricately carved loaf of bread, its crust deeply golden. But it wasn't slicing it. It was tearing at it, its long, pale fingers clawing at the dough, pulling apart its structure . From the rents in the bread, small, pale grubs writhed, their tiny bodies slick and glistening . The creature scooped them up with a shuddering urgency, crushing them with a heavy, pestle-like object, grinding them into a dark, viscous pulp. The sound was a wet, sickening crunch, repeated with a desperate rhythm. It droned a discordant chant, a frantic, broken melody that scraped at Rory's nerves. The pendant, which had been warm, now flared with intense heat, a searing agony against her chest. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips.
"This is not merely gluttony," Nyx rasped, their form momentarily solidifying into a sharper silhouette, their violet eyes burning with an intensity Rory rarely saw. "This is a parasite. Something decaying within the feast, feeding on its rot."
As Nyx spoke, the hunched creature's mad eyes snapped upwards, fixing on them with a gaze of pure, ancient hunger and a terrifying, resentful rage. It dropped its pestle, the thud echoing in the sudden, charged silence . With a guttural shriek that tore through the oppressive sweetness, it lurched forward, its skeletal fingers scrabbling at the air, advancing towards them with unnatural speed.
Then, the ground beneath Rory’s feet bucked violently. Pots and pans, giant crystalline bowls, and towering stacks of exotic produce began to topple from the counters. The air filled with the sickening crash of porcelain , the shattering of glass, and the unholy screams of the creature, now lost in the cacophony of destruction. The very foundations of Dymas seemed to groan, as if the realm itself recoiled from the emerging horror. The Heartstone Pendant was a branding iron against Rory's chest, its searing heat a prelude to the storm erupting around them.