Apollo woke to the sound of splintering wood as night's silence shattered into chaos. The door to their rented room burst inward with a flare of crimson fire that painted the walls in bloody light. He jerked upright, sleep evaporating in an instant as a hooded figure stepped through the ruined doorframe.
The intruder's hands wove complex patterns in the air, each gesture trailing ribbons of flame. Words spilled from beneath the hood, guttural, harsh syllables that made the floorboards beneath Apollo's bed begin to hiss and smoke.
"What in all hells—" Thorin's voice cut through the darkness, followed by a stream of dwarven curses as he fumbled for his axe.
Across the room, Nik tumbled from his bed in a tangle of blankets, narrowly avoiding a lick of flame that scorched the wall where his head had been moments before.
