Ahead, Mira stumbled, her injured arm throwing off her balance as she tried to navigate around a fallen branch. Tomas caught her before she could fall, but Apollo could see the strain in both their faces, the way they leaned on each other with increasing desperation.
'We can't keep going much longer,' he thought, feeling his own strength ebbing with each labored step. The gold in his veins flickered weakly, like a candle running low on wax. 'But we can't stop here either. Not with that thing stirring beneath us.'
The bow's warmth pressed against his spine, a constant reminder of the power it contained, power he didn't understand, couldn't fully control. Yet its presence offered the only comfort he could find in this nightmare landscape where water couldn't be trusted and silence felt like a living threat.
