AI Aurora gripped the silver chain of her Heartstone pendant until the metal bit into her palm. The crimson gem pulsed hot against her sternum, each throb dragging her forward through the thickening shadows of Richmond Park.
"Come on, then," she muttered, boots crunching over frost-rimed leaves. "You wanted to see where the bloody thing led."
Nyx drifted at her shoulder, a tall silhouette of living shadow that swallowed the moonlight. Their violet eyes flickered once, amused. "Curiosity has slain more interesting creatures than you, Rory."
"Save the poetry." She ducked beneath a low branch. "You're the one who woke me at three in the morning claiming the Veil tore right under my flat."
A third figure glided ahead of them, silver hair swaying like liquid starlight. Isolde left no prints in the damp earth. Her bare feet kissed the ground without disturbing a single blade of grass. "The stones remember," she sang softly, voice carrying the cadence of old riddles. "They open for those who carry fire from below and shadow from between."
The ancient oaks rose before them, trunks twisted into unnatural spirals that formed a rough circle. Aurora's breath caught. The air here felt thinner, sweeter, like breathing in the memory of summer in the dead of winter. Her pendant flared brighter, the warmth spreading down her arm until the crescent scar on her wrist tingled.
Nyx flowed forward, incorporeal form stretching between the standing stones. "A door, then. How quaint."
"Not a door," Isolde corrected, pale lavender eyes fixed on something only she could see. "A hinge."
Aurora pressed her hand to the nearest oak. The bark felt alive beneath her fingers, pulsing with slow, deliberate heartbeats. A low hum vibrated up through her bones. "It's singing."
"Everything sings," Isolde whispered. "Most simply forget how to listen."
The space between the stones shimmered . Aurora stepped through.
The world flipped.
She stumbled, catching herself on a surface that yielded like warm flesh before hardening into cool stone. Blinking rapidly, she straightened. The air carried the heavy perfume of ripe fruit and something sharper, like crushed spices left too long in the sun. Golden light bathed everything in amber warmth , though no sun hung in the sky above. Instead, the heavens stretched in endless gradients of honey and burnt orange, swirling slowly as if stirred by an invisible spoon.
"Hel," she breathed. "This is Hel."
Nyx solidified beside her, their shadow-form gaining definition, edges sharpening into something almost human. The violet glow of their eyes intensified. "Dymas," they corrected, voice a whisper on the wind. "The belly of the beast. Gluttony wears many faces."
A path unfurled before them, paved with what looked like crushed garnets that glittered wetly. On either side, vineyards stretched into impossible distances, heavy clusters of grapes the size of fists dangling from vines that twisted in unnatural patterns. The fruit pulsed faintly, matching the rhythm of Aurora's pendant.
She reached out to touch one. The skin felt fever-warm.
"Don't." Isolde appeared between them, silver hair drifting as though underwater. "Some hungers bite back."
A distant sound rolled across the landscape, a low, satisfied moan that vibrated through the ground. Aurora's stomach clenched in sympathy, though she hadn't eaten since yesterday. The moan swelled into a chorus of wet smacking, laughter, and the unmistakable clatter of cutlery on plates.
"Feast," Nyx said simply.
They moved deeper. The path widened into a colonnade of marble pillars carved with scenes of endless banquets. Figures writhed across the stone, mouths open in perpetual consumption, bodies growing fatter with every carved bite. Aurora forced herself to look away only to find the ground beneath her feet had changed. Soft now. Too soft.
She looked down. The garnets had given way to what appeared to be a carpet of glossy red lips, parted slightly , breathing.
"Walk faster," she said tightly .
Nyx drifted above the grotesque surface, never quite touching. "Wise."
Isolde simply floated, her feet never meeting the lips. She tilted her head, listening to something the others could not hear. "The prince watches. Belphegor always watches those who bring new flavours."
Another moan rose, closer this time. The air thickened with scents of roasted meat, fresh bread, chocolate so dark it bordered on bitter. Aurora's mouth flooded with saliva despite the crawling unease between her shoulder blades. Her free hand drifted toward the Fae-forged blade at her hip, fingers brushing the cold moonsilver.
They passed beneath an archway dripping with what looked like liquid gold but smelled of honeyed wine. Beyond lay a vast garden where trees bore fruit in impossible combinations: apples with bacon strips for skin, pears that wept cream when the wind touched them, figs whose insides glittered with embedded gemstones.
A small creature scuttled across their path, something between a rat and a hand, fingers sprouting from its back. It carried a tiny silver spoon in its teeth.
"Contracted souls," Nyx murmured. "They serve eternal hunger in exchange for one perfect meal."
Aurora swallowed hard. "What happens when they finish the meal?"
"They start again." Isolde's voice carried no judgement, only the tired weight of seeing too much. "The prince believes repetition breeds appreciation."
The path sloped downward now, leading them into what appeared to be a natural amphitheatre carved from living flesh. Rows of seats made from hunched bodies rippled gently , their backs forming perfect cushions. In the centre, a long table stretched for what must have been a mile, groaning under the weight of every conceivable delicacy. Steam rose in fragrant clouds. Figures moved along its length, some human, some less so, all eating with frantic dedication.
One turned toward them. His face was a mask of melted wax, features sliding slowly down his chin as he chewed. "New guests," he slurred around a mouthful of something that might once have been a pheasant. "Come. Taste."
Aurora's pendant burned against her skin. She took an involuntary step forward before catching herself.
Nyx's hand, now solid and cold, closed around her elbow. "Steady."
The ground trembled . From the far end of the table, a shape rose, vast and glistening . Prince Belphegor unfolded himself from a throne made of intertwined bodies, each one still moving, still eating. His skin shone like glazed ham, stretched tight over multiple chins that quivered with every breath. Rings of fat circled his neck like golden collars. When he smiled, his teeth appeared to be made of sugar crystals.
"Little morsels," he rumbled, voice thick as gravy . "You bring strange spices to my table."
Isolde stepped forward, somehow both diminutive and commanding. "We seek only passage, Prince of Excess. The Veil tore. We follow the tear."
Belphegor's laugh sent ripples through his flesh. Droplets of grease flew from his lips. "All seek passage. Few bring payment."
Aurora felt the pull again, stronger this time. The pendant dragged her toward the prince like a hooked fish. Her boots slid on the fleshy ground. The scent of everything delicious in existence wrapped around her, promising satisfaction beyond imagination.
"Payment," the prince repeated, leaning forward. His breath washed over them, sweet and cloying. "One bite. One perfect bite, and you may leave with whatever knowledge your tiny minds can carry."
Nyx melted into shadow, reforming between Aurora and the prince. "We decline your generous offer."
The prince's eyes, small and black as currants, narrowed. "Then perhaps you will provide the entertainment instead." He clapped his massive hands. The sound cracked like breaking bones.
The tables began to move.
Plates slid toward the edge, carried by hundreds of tiny contracted hands. The seated figures rose as one, mouths still working, eyes glazed with endless hunger. They shuffled forward in a wave of chewing, slurping bodies.
Aurora drew the Fae-forged blade. The moonsilver dagger glowed cold in the amber light. "Back," she warned, though her voice shook .
The first creature reached them, a woman whose distended belly swayed like a pendulum. She grabbed for Aurora's arm, fingers sticky with sauce. "Just one taste," she begged. "The duck is perfect this century."
Nyx lashed out, shadow tendrils whipping across the woman's face. She stumbled back, wailing as if deprived of her first meal in decades.
Isolde raised both hands. Silver light blossomed between her palms. "The grove remembers," she chanted. "The stones remember. The hunger does not own us."
The wave faltered. But Belphegor only chuckled, the sound wet and indulgent.
"More," he commanded. "Bring the vintage from the third pit. These ones fight. Fighting improves the flavour."
Aurora's pendant flared so brightly she saw spots. The pull became unbearable. Her feet carried her forward despite every instinct screaming to stop. The prince's smile widened, revealing rows of sugar teeth that began to drip.
Nyx wrapped shadowy arms around her waist, trying to anchor her. "Rory, fight it."
The first drop of the prince's saliva hit the ground. Where it landed, new vines burst forth, heavy with glistening berries that screamed in tiny voices.
Aurora's blade hand trembled . The moonsilver edge caught the amber light, reflecting it back in cold accusation.
"Release me," she growled, not sure if she spoke to Nyx or the pendant or the hunger now clawing through her veins.
Belphegor's laugh rolled over them all, rich and deep as the finest wine.
"Never," he promised. "In Dymas, nothing is ever released."
The wave of hungry bodies surged forward again. This time, they brought knives.