AI The air ripped like old canvas, then sealed itself with a faint, resonant *thrum *. Aurora Carter landed not on her feet, but sprawling onto a carpet of moss so plush it felt like velvet soaked in dew . The Heartstone Pendant, a cool weight beneath her jumper, pulsed with a steady, low warmth against her skin, a beacon in the sudden, profound quiet. Beside her, Nyx didn't stumble. They simply *were*, a shifting column of deeper shadow solidifying from the void they had stepped through.
"That was… jarring," Aurora managed, pushing herself up . Her leather jacket squeaked, a jarringly mundane sound in this place. Sunlight, or something like it, filtered through a canopy of ancient, impossibly dark leaves overhead, casting dappled patterns that shifted with a life of their own. The light itself seemed to have a colour – a pale, spectral green, tinged with lavender.
"Jarring is the whisper before the scream," Nyx replied, their voice a murmur woven from wind and dust. "This is merely the introduction."
Aurora scanned their surroundings, her bright blue eyes wide. They stood in a clearing unlike any she had ever seen. Towering around them were colossal trees with bark like petrified lightning, their branches twisted into impossible, supplicating shapes. And between these titans, like forgotten sentinels , stood immense, moss-draped standing stones, carved with symbols that writhed at the edge of her vision. Wildflowers, audacious splashes of scarlet, sapphire, and gold, bloomed riotously at their bases, nestled amongst ferns whose fronds unfurled like feathered scrolls. It was a riot of life and stone, ancient beyond reckoning, and utterly divorced from the familiar geometry of London.
She reached for the pendant again, its crimson depths seeming to drink the strange light. It was this artifact, this inexplicable gift from an unknown hand, that had led her to Nyx, and Nyx to this breach in the world. The warmth intensified, a gentle pressure against her sternum.
"Where are we, exactly?" she asked, her voice quieter now, awed despite herself.
Nyx turned their indistinct head towards the nearest standing stone. The air around it seemed to waver, like heat haze, yet the stone itself was immovably cold when Aurora reached out a tentative hand. "A place where the roots of the world tangle with the dreams of other worlds. A seam in the tapestry of existence. Some call it the Fae Grove."
The name resonated with a strange familiarity, a half-forgotten echo from Isolde's riddles. Richmond Park. A hidden grove. Time moving… differently. Aurora glanced at her wristwatch, a practical, battered thing. The second hand was sweeping at a furious pace, its ticking a frantic drumbeat against the pervasive stillness. Then, as she watched, it faltered, slowed, and then began to drift backwards for a heart-stopping moment before resuming its abnormal haste.
"Right," Aurora breathed, retracting her hand from the stone. "Differently."
She followed Nyx deeper into the clearing. The standing stones formed a rough circle, and as they moved towards its centre, the flora became even more riotous and peculiar. Flowers bloomed in impossible hues – iridescent purples that seemed to shimmer with captured starlight, luminous oranges that glowed from within as if holding internal embers, and velvety blacks that swallowed the ambient light . Vines festooned with what looked like tiny, crystalline bells, delicate as spun sugar, hung from the branches of the titanic trees. They chimed with an inaudible melody that vibrated deep in Aurora's bones rather than echoing in her ears, a subtle symphony only the soul could perceive. The air grew heavier, sweeter, carrying the potent scent of nectar and something sharp, like ozone after a lightning strike.
A butterfly with wings like shattered stained glass, each intricate segment edged in shimmering silver, flitted past Aurora's nose. It was followed by another, and another, their flight paths weaving an intricate , fleeting , silent aurora of insectoid grace. They pulsed with their own internal light, casting tiny, moving rainbows onto the thick, mossy ground.
"These are not mortal butterflies," Nyx stated, their form elongating, stretching like smoke towards a particularly ancient oak whose roots snaked across a small, crystal -clear pool. The pool’s surface was unnaturally still, a perfect mirror reflecting the gnarled, skeletal branches above with unnerving clarity. "They are messengers, woven from light and lost wishes, born from the fading memories of realms that no longer exist."
Aurora knelt by the pool, her breath catching. The water was colder than ice, yet utterly clear. She could see smooth, grey stones at its bottom, ancient and worn, smoothed by an eternity of unseen currents. As she gazed into the depths , a subtle ripple spread across the surface, not from any external disturbance, but from within . The reflection of the trees above seemed to twist, the branches momentarily morphing into grasping claws, the leaves into leering, sharp-toothed faces. Then, just as quickly, it settled back into serene, innocent stillness. The water was a looking glass, but not for this world.
"It's the Veil bleeding through, perhaps?" Aurora murmured, her mind racing . The Veil, the boundary between worlds, weakened during the winter solstice. But this grove existed in its own pocket dimension, its own peculiar time.
"The Veil here is less a barrier and more a suggestion," Nyx said, their voice devoid of inflection . "A permeable membrane. This place thrives on what slips through the cracks, what tumbles over the edges."
A rustling sound broke the ethereal quiet. It was not the gentle whisper of wind through leaves, but a more deliberate, furtive shuffling. Aurora's hand instinctively went to her side, where the Fae-Forged Blade usually rested, though she had left it back at the flat, a precaution she now regretted. Nyx, however, seemed to notice nothing untoward, their focus drawn to the heart of the grove, where the standing stones formed a dense ring.
"Look," Nyx whispered, pointing towards the centre of the stone circle.
There, nestled within the protective embrace of the ancient stones, stood an altar. It wasn't carved from conventional rock, but seemed to be a single, enormous crystal , pulsing with a soft, internal luminescence that shifted between violet and deep indigo. Upon it lay a single object: a silver circlet, delicate and intricate , woven with what looked like moonbeams .
Aurora felt an irresistible pull towards it, a whisper of power that tugged at her latent magical sense, awakening senses she'd only brushed against before. The Heartstone Pendant around her neck grew noticeably warmer, almost hot now, vibrating against her skin like a frantic heartbeat.
"That circlet… it feels like… a key," Aurora said, her voice hushed with a mixture of awe and trepidation .
"A key to what? Or perhaps a lock, preventing something from escaping?" Nyx turned their shadowed gaze upon her.
Before Aurora could formulate a response, the standing stones around them began to hum. Not the subtle thrum from before, but a deep, vibrating drone that shook the very air. The symbols etched into the ancient rock flared with an internal, sickly green light. The wildflowers at their bases withered instantly, their vibrant colours draining away, leaving behind only brittle, grey husks. The light filtering through the canopy intensified, coalescing into sharp, piercing beams that seemed to follow them .
Aurora stumbled back, her senses reeling. The air tasted metallic, like blood and fear. She looked at Nyx, whose form was now contorting, elongating, the shadows within them churning as if in distress or preparation for battle.
"Nyx? What's happening?"
A guttural sound, like grinding stone, echoed from behind the largest standing stone. It wasn't the whispered voice of Nyx or the wind. It was something ancient, something hungry. The shadows Nyx usually commanded seemed to recoil, as if in fear.
And then, from behind the altar, a figure began to emerge. It was tall, impossibly so, its body composed of twisting, sentient vines and sharp, obsidian shards. Its eyes, if they could be called that, were twin points of malevolent amber light that fixed directly on Aurora. A low growl rumbled from its chest, a sound that promised exquisite, drawn-out suffering. The Fae Grove, a place of wonder, had just shown its teeth.