AI The slender leaf-shaped dagger slashed through the air, carving a weeping wound into the empty space between two ancient oak standing stones.
Sparks of violet light hissed against the rain-slicked grass of Richmond Park. A smell like ozone and scorched sugar filled my nose, thick enough to taste. The Heartstone Pendant resting against my collarbone throbbed , beating a hot, rhythmic pulse against my sternum.
"Mind the threshold, human." Nyx slipped past me, their voice a soft whisper carried on an indoor wind. The Shade floated as a tall humanoid silhouette of living shadow, glowing violet eyes flickering in the dim light. "The Veil bleeds thin here, but it still bites."
I stepped through the shimmering tear.
The roar of distant London traffic died instantly. Cold air rushed into my lungs, crisp and heavy with the scent of crushed velvet , fermented grapes, and damp, ancient earth. Wildflowers burned in the dim dusk, blooming in impossible hues of luminescent teal and bruised plum under a warm amber sky that lacked a sun.
"Isolde's grove," I muttered, my boots sinking into soil that felt like powdered velvet . "Doesn't look like Richmond anymore."
"Richmond was merely the door, Rory," Isolde Varga said . The Half-Fae seer drifted behind us, her long silver hair trailing through the air without touching a single leaf. She left no footprints in the twilight moss. "You stand in the borderlands. The sweet, rotting edge where earth yields to Dymas."
I reached out, my fingers brushing a vine coiled around a pale stone pillar. Crimson sap oozed from the bark, smelling heavily of dark plum wine and old honey. The Heartstone warmed further, turning from a gentle heat to a searing weight .
"This whole place smells like a rich man's cellar," I said, thumbing the hilt of the Fae blade. "Makes my head spin."
"Gluttony leaves a heavy scent," Nyx murmured. Their form stretched, shadow-fingers drifting over a cluster of glass-like grapes that hummed with a quiet, melodic chime. "Prince Belphegor's shadow stretches far. Even here, miles from his grand halls, the land hungers."
A sudden sound echoed through the clearing. A slow, rhythmic *crunch-crunch *.
I dropped into a crouch, drawing the cold moonsilver dagger from my belt. The silver blade caught the eerie amber light, casting a faint luminescent glow over the mossy path. "We have company."
"No mortal harm walks this trail tonight," Isolde declared, her pale lavender eyes staring into the shifting mist. Her voice carried the weight of her Fae blood, sweet and unbending. "Though truth remains a rare guest."
"Helpful as always, Isolde," I muttered.
From behind a towering curtain of black ferns, a creature plodded into view. It stood as high as my chest, shaped like a wild boar, but its hide consisted entirely of woven vines and crystallised sugar. It chewed lazily on a mouthful of glowing violet lilies, its dark obsidian eyes rolling toward us without a shred of fear.
"A feast-beast," Nyx whispered, shifting near my right shoulder. "Bred for the grand tables of Dymas. Slain, devoured, and regrown before the next moon."
"Gross."
"Delicious, actually," Isolde corrected, a faint, cryptic smile touching her ageless lips. "If one enjoys the taste of stolen years."
I kept my distance as the beast lumbered past, leaving a trail of sweet, sticky syrup in the velvet dirt. We pressed deeper into the grove, following a winding path paved with flat, translucent river stones that glowed faintly from within.
The air grew thicker. The ambient warmth turned stifling, wet with moisture that clung to my skin like oil. Huge, weeping trees lined the trail, their bark draped in gossamer threads that shimmered like spiders' silk . Suspended within those webs were fruit the size of lantern gourds, bleeding golden nectar onto the ground below.
My stomach gave a sharp, treacherous rumble. The scent was intoxicating. Vanilla, baked butter, rich chocolate, and roasting meats drifted on the stagnant breeze.
"Don't," Nyx warned, a shadowy arm extending across my chest to block my path. "Eat nothing. Drink nothing. Breathe too deeply, and the realm will claim your appetite until you starve while full."
I clamped my jaw shut, dragging the back of my hand across my mouth. "I wasn't going to take a bite."
"Your eyes lied, Laila," Isolde chimed in, using the false name she so loved to taunt me with. "The heart craves comfort. Dymas offers endless sanctuary , wrapped in sugar, lined with lead."
"I'm fine," I snapped, though my hand trembled slightly on the hilt of my blade.
We rounded a sharp bend where the trees parted, revealing an ancient stone fountain buried beneath a canopy of black ivy. But no water ran through its cracked basins. Instead, a dark, viscous liquid pool bubbled at the center, thick and smooth as melted obsidian.
The Heartstone Pendant burned red hot against my chest. I gasped, clutching at the silver chain through my shirt.
"It's close," I breathed, staring at the dark pool. "The portal to Hel. It's right beneath us."
Nyx glided to the edge of the fountain, their silhouette distorting as the heat radiating from the liquid wafted upward. "The rift is open. Someone poured a lot of blood to clear this passage."
"Or wine," Isolde murmured. She stopped a few paces back, her silver hair swaying like underwater reeds. "The Prince of Gluttony does not care what fills his cup, so long as it overflows."
I stepped up to the rim of the fountain. The reflection staring back at me wasn't my own face. Deep within the black, syrup-like fluid, I saw the distorted spires of a massive, decadent city beneath a bruised, amber sky. Sprawling grand estates, endless vineyards, and towering halls of bone and marble stretched toward a horizon that seemed to warp and bend under its own weight .
"Belphegor's court," I whispered.
"The banquet has begun," Nyx said softly . Their voice rasped like dry leaves dragging across slate. "And we are not on the guest list."
"Good," I said, tightening my grip on the cold Fae blade. "I hate formal events."
A low, subterranean groan echoed from the bottom of the fountain. The dark liquid rippled, splashing against the carved stone edges. A thick, sweet stench rolled over us, instantly cutting off the fresh scent of the wildflowers.
"Rory," Nyx hissed, dropping low into a fighting stance, shadow curling into sharp blades around their hands.
"I see it," I said, stepping back as the liquid began to rise.
The black pool churned , bubbled violent silver froth, and exploded upward. A hand, clawed, pale, and dripping with hot, dark grease, slammed onto the lip of the fountain. The stone cracked under its weight , throwing sharp fragments across the moss.
"Isolde!" I yelled, bringing the Fae-forged blade up in a defensive guard. "You said no mortal harm walked this path!"
"I said no *mortal * harm," Isolde replied smoothly, her voice utterly devoid of panic as a second clawed hand gripped the stone. "Demons, however, pay no heed to mortal rules."
The thing pulled itself from the deep. A massive, distended maw gaped open in the middle of its pale torso, lined with three rows of jagged, yellowed teeth that snapped empty air, salivating black slime onto the river stones.
"Draw your steel, human," Nyx whispered, their form dissolving into a cloud of swirling darkness . "It smells your mortality."
The demon roared, a wet, guttural sound that shook the ancient oaks, and lunged straight for my throat.