The bow stirred against Apollo's back, waking him from a restless sleep.
Apollo's eyes snapped open, the gold in his veins already warming in response to the weapon's silent warning.
The sanctuary lay bathed in the soft blue glow of protective runes, his companions sprawled in exhausted heaps around the central well. No one else had noticed anything amiss, yet the bow's urgency pressed against his spine like a physical touch.
'Something's coming,' he thought, carefully extracting himself from his bedroll.
He moved silently to the edge of the stone platform, careful not to disturb the others. Thorin's rumbling snores continued uninterrupted. Lyra slept with one hand still curled around her knife. Nik had finally found peace, his face smoothed of the pain and fear that had marked it during their desperate flight.
