The raised patch of earth beneath Apollo felt like a floating island in a sea of darkness. Not just the physical darkness of the marsh, but the heavier shadow that had fallen between him and his companions since the city. Their silence weighed more than his sodden pack, more than the relic nestled within it.
"I'll leave at dawn," Apollo said finally, the words falling into the quiet like stones into still water. "You'll move faster without me. And you won't have to—" he hesitated, tasting the bitterness of the truth, "—fear what I might do."
The gold in his veins retreated further at the admission, a cold ache that spread through his limbs. He kept his gaze fixed on the distant glimmer of starlight reflecting off the marsh water, unable to look at their faces.
Thorin grunted, the sound carrying clear approval. "Sensible," the dwarf muttered, fingers still wrapped around his axe handle as they had been since the tunnel. "Should've happened sooner."
