The relic pulsed against Apollo's palm like a second heart, hungry and insistent.
"We need to move," Apollo said, his voice tight as he fumbled with his pack. The chamber had grown smaller somehow, the walls pressing in with each ragged breath they took.
He pulled out a length of cloth, faded blue, frayed at the edges, and wrapped the spiral artifact with quick, precise movements. Even through the fabric, he could feel its warmth, its strange vitality.
The sea rushed in behind them, swallowing the tunnel inch by greedy inch.
"That's it?" Nik asked, eyes darting between Apollo's hands and the rising water. "We came all this way for... what exactly?"
"Something that doesn't belong to you," Lyra said, her voice flat. She was already moving toward the exit, bow slung over her shoulder, every muscle coiled for flight.
