Trees that bent at wrong angles, rocks that shifted position when not directly observed.
"This is unnatural," Renna muttered behind him, her spear tapping nervously against the ground.
"So is walking in circles for days," Nik countered, though his usual humor was strained.
The relic guided them with a mixture of precise instructions and cutting remarks. "Right three steps, then left two, then straight until the split oak," it would say, then follow immediately with: "Try not to trip over your own feet this time. Even the dog has better balance than you."
Apollo bore the insults in silence, focusing on the path ahead. The gold in his veins had warmed again, flowing more freely with each correct step. He could feel the relic's satisfaction like a physical presence against his spine.
By midday, they had covered more ground than in the previous three days combined. The warped landscape began to stabilize around them, reality reasserting itself in slow, grudging increments.
