Lyra, having retrieved her knife from where it had fallen after igniting the oil, leapt toward the creature's exposed neck. Her blade flashed toward the pulsing gold veins visible beneath its mottled skin, but at the last instant, one massive hand shot up with surprising speed.
Lyra twisted mid-air, barely avoiding being grabbed. She landed in a roll that carried her away from the creature's reach, coming up in a defensive crouch with her knife still ready.
The beast gathered itself for one final effort. It rose on its wounded leg, golden fluid streaming from a dozen wounds, its body silhouetted against the burning mushroom forest. For an instant, it seemed to look directly at Apollo, those empty sockets somehow focusing on him alone.
A strange recognition passed between them, monster and fallen god, before the creature threw back its head and released a final, ear-splitting hiss that shook spores from every surface.
