Smoke curled from the doorframe as Apollo raced down the inn's back stairs, the acrid scent burning his nostrils with each ragged breath. Behind him, floorboards creaked under the weight of his companions, their shadows dancing wildly against the wall as flames consumed what remained of their room.
"Move faster," Lyra hissed from somewhere above, her voice barely audible over the growing cacophony outside, shouts from the city guard, dogs barking with predatory eagerness, and the relentless tolling of alarm bells that seemed to vibrate through the very walls.
Apollo's legs trembled with each step, divine power still ebbing from his veins like a retreating tide, leaving exhaustion in its wake. The gold beneath his skin had cooled to a dull ache, a reminder of what he'd revealed and could no longer hide.
"Did you see what he did up there?" Nik whispered too loudly, stumbling on the narrow stairs. "The way the light just poured out of his—"
