Apollo climbed the inn's narrow staircase, the memory of fire dancing on the priest's palms burning brighter in his mind than the actual flames had in the chamber below. The others followed close behind, their footsteps unnaturally loud in the midnight quiet, as if the very cobblestones beneath them had grown suspicious of their presence.
"We need to leave this place," Thorin growled once they'd reached the relative safety of the second-floor landing. His voice was low but intense, beard still bristling with agitation.
"Something about this city isn't right. The way those people watched that fire-show like it was a miracle instead of a parlor trick."
Renna nodded, her fingers still wrapped around her peace-tied spear as if she expected to need it at any moment. "First light tomorrow. No delays, no excuses. I've seen enough to know we don't belong here."
