The bow felt unnaturally light in his hands as he lifted it from its resting place, almost weightless despite its obvious strength.
The grip seemed to mold itself to his palm, fitting as perfectly as if it had been crafted specifically for his hand. Something about it resonated with the faded divinity still lingering in his blood, not a recognition of the weapon itself, but of its purpose, its potential.
’It knows me,’ he realized with a start. ’Or at least, it knows what I once was.’
He stood slowly, bow in hand, and turned back to the others. They were still deep in conversation, comparing notes on the fungal creatures and planning their next move.
No one appeared to notice anything unusual about the weapon he now held, or the way the nearby spores continued to dance more energetically in its presence.
Apollo slipped the bow over his shoulder without comment, feeling the strange rightness of it against his back. Whatever this weapon was, wherever it had come from, it belonged with him now. The how and why could wait for a safer time.
"—need to keep moving," Cale was saying as Apollo rejoined the group. "This hollow seems stable for now, but who knows for how long. If those things are tracking us—"
The ground shuddered violently beneath them, cutting off Cale’s words. A deep, resonant booming echoed from below, like massive drums beaten in the depths of the earth. Fine cracks spread across the hollow’s floor, widening the existing fissures.
"It’s found us," Lyra said, her voice deadly calm despite the fear Apollo saw flash across her face. "Whatever it is, it’s coming up."
"Which way?" Thorin demanded, already helping Nik to his feet once more.
Cale pointed to a narrow passage on the far side of the hollow, barely visible through the swirling spores. "That leads upward. We scouted it briefly before we found you. Might be our best chance of reaching the surface."
Another tremor shook the hollow, stronger than before. One of the massive fungal roots split with a wet, tearing sound, golden ichor spilling from the wound to sizzle against the ground below. Read complete version only at novel⟡fire.net
"Go!" Apollo shouted as the rumbling intensified. "Everyone move now!"
They ran, limped, staggered toward the passage Cale had indicated, the group now nearly doubled in size but moving with the desperate coordination of those who had already faced death once today. Apollo felt the new bow bounce lightly against his back as he ran, somehow comforting despite its mysterious origins.
Behind them, the hollow’s floor began to collapse inward, massive chunks of ground disappearing into a spreading darkness from which golden light pulsed like a heartbeat. Something was rising, something large enough to shatter the earth itself in its ascent.
They reached the passage just as a deafening roar filled the air, so powerful it seemed to vibrate through Apollo’s very bones. He didn’t look back, didn’t need to. The gold in his veins told him everything he needed to know about what pursued them.
Whatever had been hunting them through the fungal forest, they had now drawn the attention of something far worse. Something ancient and vast, awakened from slumber by their intrusion. Something that would not rest until it had devoured every last one of them.
The passage narrowed ahead, winding upward through the fungal structure. Toward daylight, toward the surface, toward hope, if they could reach it in time.
Apollo ran, one hand unconsciously reaching back to touch the bow that had found him in this strange, terrible place. It thrummed beneath his fingers, as if eager for what lay ahead.
The passage walls pressed closer with each step, forcing them into single file as they climbed through what felt like the throat of some immense beast.
Apollo’s lungs burned with each ragged breath, the air thick with spores that seemed to cling to his throat like cobwebs. Behind him, the roaring had grown to a crescendo that made his teeth ache, followed by a silence so complete it felt like the world holding its breath.
The bow across his back seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, its weight both negligible and somehow significant. Apollo found himself reaching back to touch it again, reassured by its solid presence even as questions multiplied in his exhausted mind. ’Where did it come from? Why does it feel so familiar?’
"Light ahead!" Cale called from somewhere in the darkness above them, his voice echoing strangely in the narrow space.
Apollo squinted upward, and indeed there was something, not the golden luminescence of the spores, but actual daylight, pale and clean and impossibly welcome after the nightmare of the fungal depths.
The sight gave him strength he didn’t know he still possessed, and he pushed himself faster up the increasingly steep incline.
They emerged from the passage like newborns gasping their first breath of air. Apollo stumbled into genuine sunlight, real wind, the scent of normal earth and growing things that didn’t pulse with unnatural light.
He fell to his knees on solid ground, actual soil and grass, and pressed his palms against it, feeling the simple, honest stability of earth that didn’t tremble with buried monstrosities.
The others collapsed around him in similar states of exhausted relief. Mira was openly weeping, her good arm wrapped around her injured one as she rocked back and forth. Tomas had removed his bloodstained bandage and was tilting his face toward the sun, eyes closed in something approaching prayer. Even Thorin had set down his pack and was running his thick fingers through normal grass, his expression softer than Apollo had ever seen it.
’We made it,’ Apollo thought, the gold in his veins finally settling into a steady, peaceful rhythm. ’We actually made it out.’
He looked back toward the passage they’d emerged from, expecting to see the familiar opening of a cave or tunnel. Instead, there was nothing, just a grassy hillside unmarked by any entrance at all. The fungal forest and its horrors might have been a fever dream if not for their scorched clothing and smoke-blackened skin.
"Where are we?" Nik asked, voicing the question that had been forming in Apollo’s own mind.
The landscape around them was unfamiliar, rolling hills covered in ordinary grass and scattered with normal trees that cast proper shadows in honest sunlight.
No mushroom stalks towered overhead, no golden spores drifted in the air, no whispers plagued the edges of consciousness. It was so wonderfully mundane that Apollo felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.