AI Rory gripped the Heartstone pendant tighter as its faint crimson glow pulsed against her palm. The ancient oak standing stones loomed ahead in Richmond Park, their surfaces etched with runes that seemed to writhe when she blinked . One wrong step and the Veil would spit them back out, or worse.
"Through the gap between the two tallest," Isolde murmured behind her, silver hair catching stray moonlight. Her bare feet left no mark on the dew-heavy grass. "The grove waits for those who carry true questions, not idle curiosity."
Nyx drifted at Rory's left, their shadowy form flickering like smoke in a draught. "Questions sharpen blades. Yours cuts deep today, Carter." Their voice whispered on the wind, carrying the chill of forgotten graves.
Rory didn't answer. The pendant had burned hot against her skin all morning, dragging her here after another sleepless night above Silas's bar. Evan’s shadow still clung to her thoughts, but this felt bigger. Older. She stepped between the stones.
The world folded.
Air thickened, sweet with wildflower nectar and something sharper, like crushed emerald. Rory stumbled forward, boots sinking into moss that glowed soft turquoise underfoot. The Fae Grove stretched before them, a clearing that defied logic. Ancient oaks twisted into impossible arches overhead, their leaves shimmering silver and gold. Wildflowers bloomed in riotous colours year-round, petals pulsing with inner light that painted everything in dreamlike hues. Time here already felt slippery, like trying to hold mercury in her hand.
"Bloody hell," she breathed, scanning the impossible space. No birds sang. Instead, a low hum vibrated through the ground, resonating in her bones. It reminded her of the tube tunnels back in London, but alive. Aware.
Isolde glided past, her lavender eyes scanning the standing stones that now circled them completely . "The grove remembers every footfall . Tread softly , Aurora Carter. Some memories bite."
Nyx solidified enough to leave faint impressions in the moss, violet eyes glowing brighter. "Memories are the least of our concerns. Something watches from the thorns." They gestured with a tendril of shadow toward a thicket where brambles twisted into shapes that almost resembled faces.
Rory's scar itched on her wrist. Childhood accident, her mother had always said. Now she wondered. She pulled the Fae-forged blade from her coat, its moonsilver leaf-shape cold and reassuring in her grip. The dagger hummed faintly, its edge catching the ethereal light.
"Lead on then," she said, voice steady despite the unease crawling up her spine. "I didn't come here for a garden tour."
They moved deeper. The path narrowed between walls of flowering vines that parted like curtains at Isolde's approach. Each bloom released puffs of iridescent pollen that danced in the air before vanishing. Rory's fingers brushed one accidentally. Warmth bloomed across her skin, and for a split second she saw her mother's face, young and laughing in Cardiff rain. The vision faded, leaving her breathless.
"Careful with the whisperblooms," Isolde warned without turning. "They show what the heart hides. Not always kindly."
"Useful," Nyx whispered, their form stretching to peer at a cluster of midnight-blue flowers that sang in tiny voices. The melody tugged at Rory's memories of Eva's laughter, of late nights plotting their escape from Evan. She shook her head hard.
The ground sloped downward. Bioluminescent mushrooms the size of small cars clustered along the banks of a crystal stream that flowed upward, defying gravity as it spiralled into the canopy. Fish with translucent bodies and golden fins swam against the impossible current, their scales reflecting fractured images of distant realms.
Rory crouched by the stream, dipping her fingers in. The water felt like liquid starlight, cool and electric . Tiny sparks danced between her fingertips. "This isn't natural. None of it."
"Natural is a lie mortals tell themselves," Isolde replied, plucking a silver leaf from a low branch. She crushed it between her fingers, releasing a scent like rain on hot stone. "The grove exists between. Earth. Fae. The spaces Hel sometimes brushes against when the Veil thins."
The pendant flared hotter. Rory stood quickly , following its pull toward a cluster of crystalline formations jutting from the earth like frozen lightning. Each crystal hummed at a different pitch, creating a symphony that made her teeth ache. Deep within the largest formation, something moved. A shape. A face?
Nyx flowed closer, incorporeal now, slipping between the crystals like oil. "Old magic here. Older than my fall in 1643. Smells of bargains and broken crowns."
"Don't touch them," Isolde said sharply . For the first time, real tension edged her voice. "These are memory shards. Glimpses of what was, what might be. Touch the wrong one and you trade places with what you see."
Rory's heart hammered. The face inside the crystal looked like hers, but with eyes full of starlight and shadows writhing across her skin. Malphora, the pendant seemed to whisper in her mind. She jerked back, nearly dropping the blade.
"Enough riddles." She whirled on Isolde . "You dragged me here with that note under my door. The pendant burns near Hel portals, you said. So where's the portal? What am I supposed to see?"
Isolde's pale lavender eyes met hers without flinching. "The grove reveals what seekers need. Not what they demand." She gestured to a path that hadn't been there moments before, winding between two massive oak trunks that formed a natural archway dripping with luminous moss. "Deeper. The answers grow thorns."
They pressed on. The air grew heavier, scented with ozone and crushed berries. Strange fruits hung from the trees, some pulsing like tiny hearts, others dripping golden sap that hissed where it touched the ground. One fruit split open as they passed, revealing rows of tiny teeth before sealing again.
Nyx chuckled, a sound like dry leaves skittering across stone. "Dymas fruit. Gluttony's bounty slips through sometimes when the Veil frays. Prince Belphegor would pay dearly for a harvest like this."
Rory's stomach twisted. The codex entries she'd studied mentioned Dymas only in passing, a realm of endless feasting where souls contracted themselves for one more taste. The thought of those fruits in her hands made her salivate and retch at once.
A rustle behind them. She spun, blade raised. Nothing. Just flowers closing their petals in sequence, like eyes blinking shut.
"Unease doesn't suit you, Rory," Nyx observed, their shadowy form brushing her shoulder . The touch felt like cool silk and distant thunder . "Your mind races. The ex? The deliveries? Or the fact that your blood calls to places like this?"
"Focus," she snapped. The pendant pulled her forward relentlessly now, its chain warm against her neck. They descended into a hollow where the trees opened into a perfect circle. At its centre stood a pool of liquid mirror, reflecting not the canopy above but swirling amber skies and endless vineyards. Dymas. The connection hit her like a physical blow.
Isolde knelt by the pool's edge, silver hair pooling around her like liquid mercury. "The Veil tears here. Small now, but growing. Winter solstice approaches. Weakens the boundary."
Rory stared into the mirror-pool. Images flickered across its surface. Grand feasts under amber skies. Souls in chef's whites toiling in kitchens the size of cathedrals. A figure on a throne made of bones and sugar glass, laughing as he devoured an entire roasted boar in one bite. Prince Belphegor. His eyes met hers through the reflection and widened with recognition.
The pendant flared so brightly she cried out. Heat seared her chest. From the pool, a shadowy tendril reached upward, not quite solid, tasting the air like a serpent's tongue .
"Close it," Rory demanded, grip tightening on the Fae blade. The dagger's cold metal sang against her palm. "Whatever this is, seal it."
"Cannot." Isolde rose gracefully, though her hands trembled slightly . "The tear responds to catalysts. Your blood. The pendant. The shadow that follows you from London streets."
Nyx surged forward, form expanding into a wall of living darkness. "Then we give it something else to taste." Their whisper carried fury now, ancient and raw. The shade who had once been Aldric the sorcerer clearly remembered his own entrapment between realms.
The tendril from the pool struck like lightning. It wrapped around Rory's ankle, icy despite the warmth of the grove. Pain lanced up her leg. Visions flooded her: endless tables groaning under feasts, her own hands reaching for just one more bite, one more taste of power, of forgetting Evan, of becoming something beyond the scared law student who'd fled to London.
She slashed downward with the blade. Moonsilver met shadow and bit deep. The tendril shrieked, a sound like shattering crystal and dying stars. Black ichor sprayed across the flowers, causing them to wither instantly into ash.
More tendrils erupted. The pool boiled. From its depths , something vast began to rise, pushing against the Veil from the other side. Amber light spilled through cracks in reality, carrying scents of spiced wine and roasting flesh.
Rory backed toward Isolde, blade held ready. Her heartstone pendant pulsed in frantic rhythm with the rising entity. "Any actual advice, Seer? Or just more bloody riddles while we get eaten?"
Isolde's voice remained calm, though her fingers dug into Rory's shoulder. "The grove gives what is needed. Look closer, Aurora. The answer hangs where you least expect."
Nyx roared, a sound that rattled the ancient trees. Their form solidified into something almost human, tall and furious, violet eyes blazing. They plunged both arms into the largest tendril, shadows meeting shadows in a violent embrace. The air filled with the smell of ozone and burnt sugar.
Rory followed the Seer's gaze. There, above the pool, a single fruit dangled from a vine that hadn't existed seconds ago. Deep crimson, the exact shade of the heartstone. It pulsed in time with the pendant. Gluttony's own offering, slipped through the tear.
She leapt.
Her fingers closed around the fruit just as a massive clawed hand of pure appetite burst from the pool. The ground shook. Flowers screamed. Nyx bellowed in pain as the tendrils tightened.
Rory bit into the fruit.
Sweetness exploded across her tongue, followed by bitterness so profound it burned. Power surged through her veins. The heartstone pendant blazed like a small sun. She felt the Veil reinforce itself, the tear shrinking as the grove drank deeply from whatever essence she'd just unleashed.
The clawed hand faltered. Amber light dimmed.
But the fruit's seeds now burned inside her chest, taking root. Something ancient stirred in her blood, responding to the name that echoed in her mind once more.
Malphora.
Isolde's eyes widened . "What have you done?"
The clawed hand withdrew with a furious howl that shook petals from every flower. The pool settled, though its mirror surface now showed Rory's own face staring back, eyes glowing the same violet as Nyx's.
Nyx collapsed to one knee, form flickering. "Carter. The seeds. They sing of thrones and feasts and debts unpaid."
Rory dropped the half-eaten fruit. Crimson juice stained her fingers like blood. The pendant cooled against her skin, but the new warmth in her veins only grew. The grove's flowers turned toward her now, petals opening in reverence or fear.
She met Isolde's gaze across the hollow. The half-fae seer looked almost afraid.
"Tell me truthfully," Rory said, voice echoing with new resonance . "What exactly did I just invite in?"
Isolde opened her mouth. Closed it. For the first time, the compulsion that prevented her from lying seemed to war with something deeper.
The standing stones at the grove's edge began to glow. Time, already slippery, accelerated. Hours outside might have already passed. Days.
Another tendril, smaller and more cunning, slithered from the pool behind Rory. It wasn't reaching for her this time.
It reached for the seeds now sprouting between her ribs.