AI The gate shuddered like a dying lung, a jagged rift in the air that tasted of ozone and rotting peaches. I stepped through, my boots landing on grass that felt less like vegetation and more like velvet needles against my soles. Beside me, Nyx rippled, their violet eyes bleeding into the shifting shadows of the trees that loomed ahead. The Heartstone at my throat pulsed , a rhythmic , frantic heartbeat against my sternum, warming the silver chain until it felt like a brand .
"Careful where you plant your feet," Nyx whispered, their voice a rasp of wind against a tombstone. "The soil here hungers."
I didn't answer. I didn't need to. The sprawling landscape of Dymas stretched out before us in a dizzying array of amber hues. Trees with leaves like spun sugar bent under the weight of fruits that bled thick, golden nectar, dripping onto a forest floor that seemed to shimmer with an unnatural, bioluminescent dew . The scent was suffocating —a cloying, rich mixture of roasted spices, fermented berries, and the metallic tang of blood cooling in the sun. This was Gluttony, and it felt like being trapped inside a fever dream of a gluttonous god.
We pushed forward into the dense brush, our movements deliberate. Every time a branch brushed my arm, the thin fabric of my jacket caught on invisible barbs that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic glow.
"Isolde said the path wasn't marked," I muttered, brushing a sticky leaf from my sleeve. It left a faint, neon-blue stain on my skin. "She lied by omission."
"She is Fae," Nyx noted, drifting slightly above the uneven ground. "Lying is a moral hurdle they rarely clear, but misleading is an art form. Keep your blade close, Aurora. The air here thins near the vineyards."
We crested a low, rolling ridge, and the true scale of the realm revealed itself. Below us, an orchard stretched to the horizon, the trees massive, ancient things with gnarled, obsidian-dark bark. Between the rows, figures moved—slender, graceful silhouettes that lacked the heft of mortals. They harvested the fruit with a reverence that bordered on religious, their hands stained deep, bruised purple. Silence hung over the valley, broken only by the wet, rhythmic sound of fruit being torn from stems.
"Are they human?" I asked, my fingers tracing the hilt of the moonsilver dagger at my hip. The metal bit into my palm with a welcome, biting cold.
"Helbound," Nyx replied, the violet light in their eyes sharpening. "Souls sold for a taste of what they couldn't have in life. Look at the eyes. They've forgotten how to blink."
A sudden, sharp pop echoed through the clearing. A few yards away, a man—or something that had once been a man—dropped his basket. It shattered, sending a cascade of translucent, glowing spheres rolling down the slope toward our feet. He didn't look at the mess. He turned toward us, his face a mask of waxen, unmoving skin, his mouth curled into an eternal, hollow grin.
"Guests," the creature croaked. The voice spilled out like dry sand. "The Prince is entertaining. You arrived early. Or perhaps, too late."
"We're just passing through," I said, keeping my steps steady, controlled. I took a breath, letting the scent of the orchard fill my lungs, ignoring the way it made my vision swim with phantom images of a banquet I’d never attended.
"Passing through," the creature repeated, the words rolling around its mouth as if it were testing a flavour. "No one leaves Dymas with an empty stomach . The tithe must be paid."
"What tithe?" I gripped the Heartstone at my neck, the gem burning hot enough to blister.
The creature’s grin widened, splitting the skin at the corners of its mouth. It reached into the remains of the shattered basket and pulled out a jagged, shimmering shard of fruit. It moved with a speed that defied its skeletal frame, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat.
Nyx didn’t hesitate. They surged, a plume of smoke and darkness erupting from their form to slam into the creature. Even as a shade, Nyx possessed power that sent the ground beneath us trembling. The creature was tossed aside like a discarded toy, thudding against the obsidian bark of a nearby tree.
"Run," Nyx’s whisper commanded, their form coalescing back into a blur beside me . "The scent of blood in this place is a dinner bell for things far worse than him."
We sprinted through the orchard, the ground turning soft and spongy beneath our feet, pulsing like a living lung. The trees seemed to lean inward, their heavy, overripe fruits hanging low, brushing against our shoulders like wet, heavy hands. I could hear them clicking and whispering as we passed, a cacophony of cravings that made my head throb .
We reached a clearing where the trees broke, revealing a river of thick, viscous wine that flowed sluggishly over a bed of polished, white bone. There was no bridge. The surface of the liquid rippled, something large and serpentine moving sluggishly beneath the dark, heady surface.
"The path continues on the other side," I noted, eyeing the distance. It was too wide to jump.
Nyx floated closer to the edge, the ground shivering where they stood. "The liquid is volatile. Do not touch it, unless you intend to become part of the sediment."
I pulled the Fae-forged blade from its sheath. The air around the moonsilver steel shimmered , the cold radiating from the metal creating a small, frost-rimmed gap in the humid, oppressive atmosphere. I jabbed the tip into the ground, searching for purchase, the blade sinking into the soil as if it were cutting through soft butter.
"Help me set the anchor," I ordered, my voice steady despite the adrenaline hammering against my ribs .
Nyx shifted, their shadow merging with mine, a chill wrapping around my spine that felt like a coat of armour . I pushed, using the leverage of the blade to vault over the river—not quite jumping, but gliding on a cushion of displaced magic . I landed on the far bank, my heels sinking into a patch of vibrant, glowing moss. I turned, ready to pull Nyx after me, but the movement on the river surface slowed.
Suddenly, the wine erupted. A massive, bloated eel-like thing breached the surface, its skin translucent, revealing the shimmering, half-digested remnants of things that once had names. It didn't have eyes, only a gaping, circular maw lined with serrated, jagged teeth made of glass. It lunged for my legs, the air thick with the smell of sweet, rot-tinged nectar.
I swung the blade, the moonsilver cutting through the thick, viscous air with an audible hum. The edge met the creature's flank, and instead of blood, a torrent of golden, light-filled essence sprayed across the riverbank, burning patches into the grass. The monster let out a silent, vacuum-like shriek that vibrated in my teeth.
"Move!" I shouted, dropping and rolling as it thrashed, its tail clearing the bank and splintering the stone path into jagged fragments.
Nyx flickered into existence beside me, their hand outstretched. "We are being tracked. The Prince knows we are here, Rory."
My pulse thundered in my ears as I stood, my boots crunching on the shattered bone path. The orchard behind us had gone deathly silent, the clicking sounds replaced by a heavy, expectant vibration. The trees were no longer static; they were turning , their branches bowing toward the river as if to watch the feast.
"Where now?" I asked, my voice tight .
Nyx gestured toward a towering structure in the distance—a palace of spun sugar and bleached bone that pulsed with the same rhythm as my pendant. The gate stood wide open, and standing in the threshold was a shadow taller than any man, holding a chalice that dripped, endlessly and rhythmically, onto the floor.
"Into the lion's den," Nyx said. "And try not to swallow anything."