The constant background hum that had accompanied them through the marsh had vanished. No droning mosquitoes, no chirping frogs, no buzzing flies. The silence pressed against his ears like a physical force.
"Something's wrong," Apollo said, voice low but carrying in the unnatural quiet.
Lyra turned, one hand already moving toward her knife. "What?"
"Listen."
They froze, heads tilting as they registered the absence. The marsh had gone completely silent around them, the only sound the occasional drip of water from the fog-laden reeds.
"Could be the weather," Renna suggested, but her grip on her spear betrayed her unease. "Animals sense storms before we do."
Apollo shook his head. "It's not that." He couldn't explain the certainty he felt, the wrongness that prickled along his skin.
