The ground heaved beneath Apollo's feet, nearly pitching him forward as another tremor ripped through the fungal forest. Golden spores swirled in panicked eddies around them as they fled, casting strange shadows across exhausted faces.
"This way!" Lyra called, her voice barely audible over the thunderous rumbling. She pointed toward a gap in the massive stalks where the spore-fog seemed thinner, almost translucent compared to the golden murk behind them.
Apollo stumbled after her, his legs leaden with fatigue. The gold in his veins flickered weakly, nearly spent after their encounter with the creature and subsequent escape from the fire. Each breath scraped his raw throat, tasting of ash and the sickly-sweet decay that permeated everything in this nightmare realm.
