Run: 2026-03-12-01KKHZ5TNCXD9X06B4HC1SFBT6

Aurora pushed through the rift the pendant opened, amber light swallowing her whole. The heartstone burned against her collarbone and pulled her onward into soil that sank beneath her boots like fresh bread. Nyx flowed beside her, their silhouette sharpening into something almost human against the warm glow of the sky. She drew a slow breath. Scents crashed over her, roasted spices and caramelized sugars and something savory that made her stomach clench. Vines thicker than her thigh twisted across the ground in perfect rows, their leaves turning to track every shift of her weight. Clusters of fruit hung heavy, each orb glowing with its own faint pulse. The sky stretched without clouds or sun, just endless warm amber that pressed down like a hand on her shoulder. No wind stirred the leaves yet the vines still moved, curling and uncurling in slow waves. Nyx spoke, voice a dry rustle against her ear. This place remembers hunger. Rory touched the pendant again. Its crimson light beat faster here, matching the rhythm of distant clinking goblets and low satisfied moans that drifted from beyond the orchard rows. She slid the fae-forged blade free. The moonsilver felt cold enough to sting her palm. We keep moving. No touching anything. They walked deeper between the vines. Each step released small clouds of scented mist that smelled like her mother's Sunday roasts and the cheap cider she drank with Eva on London rooftops. The memories rose so sharply she nearly staggered. A single fruit dropped from a low branch and split open at her feet. Juice bubbled up in the shape of tiny hands that beckoned before sinking into the earth. Nyx drifted closer, violet eyes narrowed to slits. The soil drinks what you refuse. Ahead the vineyard gave way to a wide clearing where a table grown from living wood stretched longer than any banquet she had seen. Platters crowded its surface, meats glistening, breads steaming, sauces swirling on their own. No one sat there yet the dishes stayed hot, the aromas curling around her like smoke. Her scar itched. She rubbed her wrist without thinking. This whole realm feels like it's waiting for me to sit down. Nyx solidified enough to leave faint prints in the soft ground. Belphegor rules through endless want. The souls here signed away their endings for one more bite. A helbound soul shuffled past them carrying a basket of golden pears. The man's eyes looked carved from wax. Chains of pale light bound his ankles and dragged faint glowing lines through the dirt. Rory stepped into his path. How long have you been here? The soul kept walking, voice flat as old parchment. Time ends at the table. I have everything I never had. He vanished between the vines without another glance. She exhaled hard. The air itself tasted sweet on her tongue. Nyx gestured toward a cluster of ancient trees whose branches bore fruit that showed moving pictures inside their skins. One apple displayed a tiny scene of her own flat above Silas's bar, complete with the crack in the window she kept meaning to fix. She looked away fast. The realm knows my face already. They pressed on. The ground grew softer, almost fleshy, and the constant low hum of feasting swelled until it vibrated in her teeth. Wildflowers pushed up wherever her boots landed, blooming in colors that hurt to look at directly. Their petals opened like mouths and released puffs of pollen that spelled her name in sparkling letters before dissolving. Rory waved them away. The sparkles clung to her sleeve anyway. Nyx melted into a longer shadow to scout ahead, then reformed. A gathering lies past the next rise. Many mouths. Much noise. She tightened her grip on the blade. The cold metal kept her thoughts clear. We circle it. I want to see what this place is made of before it sees too much of us. They slipped through a gap in the trees and found a pavilion formed from living branches woven tight. Inside, figures lounged on cushions of moss. Attendants placed candied fruits directly onto waiting tongues. The feasters' bellies swelled against fine clothes, yet their hands kept reaching. One lifted his head. Sauce glistened on his chin. New flavors. Come. The peach remembers every summer you lost. His voice rolled thick and sweet. Rory felt it tug behind her ribs. She lifted the blade so the moonsilver caught the amber light. We pass through. Nothing more. The man laughed until his body shook, but the sound held an edge like cracking bone. He sank back into the cushions and the attendants closed around him again. Nyx stayed close enough that their chill bled through her jacket. Your will is louder than their offers. For now. Deeper still the orchards thinned into gardens where flowers grew in perfect spirals. Each bloom sang in a different key, their voices braiding into a song that loosened the knot between her shoulders. Rory caught herself smiling before she forced her face still. A fountain bubbled in the center, but instead of water it poured dark chocolate that shaped itself into tiny running deer before collapsing back into the basin. The scent wrapped her like a blanket fresh from the dryer. She leaned closer without meaning to. Her reflection in the liquid showed her with softer edges, the scar gone from her wrist, eyes heavy with contentment. Nyx yanked her backward by the collar. Their touch felt like winter air. Look at the base. Carved faces circled the fountain's bottom, mouths wide, eyes tracking her every movement. Tiny tongues of stone licked at the chocolate that dripped down. She stepped away until her back met a tree trunk. The bark shivered against her spine. This realm wants to keep us. They left the garden quickly. The path narrowed and the vines grew bolder, reaching across the way with sticky tendrils. Rory sliced one that curled toward her neck. The cut released a spray of syrup that hissed where it landed. The vine screamed, a sound like a kettle boiling dry. Her pulse hammered in her ears. Even the plants fight back. Nyx flowed over the next cluster of vines, freezing them with their shade before they could grab her. The frozen sections shattered when she kicked them. Your blade cuts what my touch weakens. We make a good edge. They shared a quick glance. Rory's mouth twitched in something almost like a grin. Remind me to thank the unknown bastard who gave me this pendant. Right after I punch them. The amber sky shifted toward deeper gold. Sounds of a larger feast rolled over them now, drums mixed with the wet noise of chewing and the clatter of never-empty plates. A line of souls marched past carrying baskets of spices that left glittering trails in the air. Rory watched their hollow faces. One woman met her eyes for half a second and mouthed a single word. Run. The warning sat cold in her chest. Nyx drew her attention to a new discovery ahead. A tree wide as a house stood alone in a clearing, its trunk covered in thousands of tiny fruits that each held a different scene. One showed Cardiff streets under rain. Another showed Evan standing in a doorway, face twisted in the way she still sometimes saw in nightmares. She turned her back on the tree. I don't need reminders. A low growl rose behind them. Three creatures pushed through the vines, bodies bloated and gleaming, extra mouths opening along their torsos. The scent of overripe fruit rolled ahead of them. The largest spoke through its primary mouth while the others whispered in wet chorus. Uncontracted. Fresh wants. The table has space. Rory raised the fae-forged blade. Its glow brightened, cutting through the amber light like a sliver of moon. We decline the invitation. Nyx expanded beside her, becoming a wall of living darkness that swallowed the warm glow. This realm will learn we bite back. The creatures laughed with every mouth at once. The sound shook nectar from the vines and sent it raining down in sticky drops. Rory adjusted her stance, scar tingling, blue eyes locked on the nearest extra mouth. The pendant flared hot against her skin. She took one step forward into the alien heart of the feast.