Whether convinced by his words or simply lacking alternatives, they reformed their line. Apollo took the lead again, the bow held ready in his hands rather than across his back. Its light created a bubble of clarity around them, pushing back the whispers that still lingered at the edges of perception.
They pressed eastward with renewed determination, each step taking them deeper into the forest's heart. The terrain continued to warp around them, but now Apollo recognized the pattern in its distortion, it was trying to funnel them, herding them toward something rather than merely hindering their progress.
After what felt like hours of fighting through the twisted landscape, Apollo noticed a change. The dense growth began to thin, not from any natural cause but because the land itself was changing.
The ground sloped downward at an increasing angle, the earth growing softer and damper beneath their boots.
