The sea betrayed nothing as Apollo followed the others along the ragged coastline, but he could feel it watching him, measuring.
Dawn had broken an hour earlier, casting the world in watercolor washes of gold and gray. They hugged the cliff face, the path narrowing with each step until they were walking single file on a strip of sand barely wider than Apollo's shoulders.
To his left, jagged stone rose like a fortress wall; to his right, the tide breathed in and out with mechanical patience.
Cale led the way, steps sure despite the treacherous footing. The man moved with the confidence of someone who had navigated this route before, though Apollo couldn't imagine when or why.
The dog trotted ahead, occasionally pausing to sniff at something in the sand before moving on.
"Watch your step," Lyra called from behind him, her voice almost lost in the rhythmic crash of waves.
