The arrow blazed between Apollo's fingers, divine light coalescing into something terrible and beautiful. Time seemed to slow as he held the full power of his godhood at his fingertips, a fragment of the sun itself ready to be unleashed.
The scarred bandit leader's eyes widened, reflecting the unearthly glow as understanding dawned, he was looking at his own annihilation.
"Apollo, do it!" Thorin roared, his voice thick with battle-fury. "End them!"
"No!" Mira screamed, her face ghostly in the arrow's radiance. "They're just men!"
The bandits stood frozen, weapons forgotten in their hands as they stared at the impossible light. Some fell to their knees, mouths forming silent prayers to gods who had long abandoned this twisted place.
'This is what they fear,' Apollo realized, feeling the weight of divinity burning his fingertips. 'Not death, but judgment.'
