CHAPTER 58: WHAT WE HIDE

The raised patch of earth beneath Apollo felt like a floating island in a sea of darkness. Not just the physical darkness of the marsh, but the heavier shadow that had fallen between him and his companions since the city. Their silence weighed more than his sodden pack, more than the relic nestled within it.

"I’ll leave at dawn," Apollo said finally, the words falling into the quiet like stones into still water. "You’ll move faster without me. And you won’t have to—" he hesitated, tasting the bitterness of the truth, "—fear what I might do."

The gold in his veins retreated further at the admission, a cold ache that spread through his limbs. He kept his gaze fixed on the distant glimmer of starlight reflecting off the marsh water, unable to look at their faces.

Thorin grunted, the sound carrying clear approval. "Sensible," the dwarf muttered, fingers still wrapped around his axe handle as they had been since the tunnel. "Should’ve happened sooner."

Renna stiffened, her back straightening as if she’d been struck. Her eyes darted between Apollo and the others, calculating something Apollo couldn’t read.

Lyra’s frown deepened, carving lines around her mouth that hadn’t been there weeks ago when they’d first met. She said nothing, but her hand drifted closer to her knife—a gesture so small it might have been unconscious.

The silence stretched, broken only by the chorus of insects and the occasional plop of something disturbing the water’s surface. Apollo felt each heartbeat like a countdown, marking the moments until dawn would separate him from the first companions he’d had since his fall.

Nik sighed heavily, the sound startling in its suddenness. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet since they’d made camp, hunched over with his arms wrapped around his knees.

"Don’t bother," he said, voice rough with exhaustion. "It won’t solve anything."

Apollo turned to him, surprised by the intervention. Nik’s usual easy smile was nowhere to be seen, replaced by something older, wearier.

"We’re all hiding things," Nik continued, not meeting anyone’s eyes. "Every single one of us." He picked up a small stone, turning it over in his fingers before tossing it into the darkness. The splash seemed to punctuate his words. "You think I’m proud of everything I’ve done? You think any of us are?"

His gaze swept across their small circle, challenging each of them in turn. "It’s not just him. It’s the nature of people. We’re all carrying things we don’t say out loud."

Thorin’s beard twitched, mouth opening as if to argue, then closing again. His shoulders slumped slightly, the perpetual tension in them easing a fraction. The silence that followed his non-response spoke volumes.

Lyra’s expression flickered, a momentary crack in her carefully maintained composure. Something in Nik’s words had struck home...Apollo could see it in the way her eyes darted away, in the slight tightening of her jaw before she mastered herself again.

Renna exhaled slowly, the sound carrying with it what might have been relief. She didn’t speak, but her white-knuckled grip on her spear relaxed visibly, the weapon settling across her lap rather than held at the ready.

Even Cale, who had maintained his usual impassive demeanor throughout the entire ordeal, betrayed a flicker of unease. It was nothing more than a slight shift in posture, a momentary lowering of his perpetual guard, but from Cale, it might as well have been a confession shouted from rooftops.

Apollo felt something unexpected move through him, not the warm surge of divine power, but something more human. More fragile. Nik’s defense wasn’t born of trust or even friendship, but of resignation, a weary acceptance that secrets were simply part of survival.

’He’s not wrong,’ Apollo thought, watching the play of emotions across faces that had become familiar over weeks of travel. ’But he doesn’t know how deep my secrets go.’

Still, the tension that had coiled around them since the city eased, not dissipating entirely but transforming into something less immediate, less dangerous. They didn’t forgive him, couldn’t, without understanding what they were forgiving, but they also didn’t condemn him.

For the first time since the gold had flared beneath his skin in that inn room, Apollo felt he could breathe without the weight of their suspicion crushing his lungs.

One by one, they settled into uneasy rest. Thorin propped himself against his pack, axe still within easy reach but no longer clutched in a death grip.

Renna stretched out her legs, wincing as mud-caked boots caught on her torn trousers. Lyra positioned herself where she could see both Apollo and the direction they’d come from, still vigilant but no longer poised to strike at the slightest movement.

Nik curled onto his side, using his arm as a pillow, his back deliberately turned toward Apollo in what might have been the greatest show of trust anyone had offered him since his fall.

Apollo leaned back, feeling the damp earth beneath his palms. The marsh hummed around them, frogs and insects and the occasional splash of something larger moving through the water. The night sky stretched overhead, stars scattered across its vastness like memories of a home he might never see again.

They weren’t bound by trust now, or even by shared purpose. What held them together was simpler, more fundamental, the recognition that none of them were innocent, that each carried shadows they’d rather keep buried.

It wasn’t much, Apollo knew. But for tonight, in this moment, it was enough.

The silence returned, settling over them like a blanket, not comfortable, exactly, but no longer hostile. The marsh continued its nighttime symphony, indifferent to their human struggles. Apollo closed his eyes, feeling the gold in his veins settle into a steady, quiet rhythm, matching the pulse of the wilderness around them.

Dawn broke reluctantly, its faint light struggling through a fog so thick Apollo could taste it, metallic and wrong, like blood diluted with pond water. The marsh had changed overnight. What had been merely unpleasant now felt actively hostile, the air heavy against his skin as if the very atmosphere had solidified around them.

Apollo sat up, wincing as his muscles protested the movement. The gold in his veins remained dormant, a cold weight that offered no comfort. He watched the others rise one by one, their movements stiff, faces drawn with exhaustion. The unspoken tension from the previous night hung between them, a barrier more substantial than the fog.

Lyra shook water from her bedroll, her expression closed. "We need to move," she said, the first words anyone had spoken since waking. "The city patrols could range this far by midday."

Thorin grunted assent, securing his axe with practiced efficiency. Renna tested the balance of her spear, while Nik fumbled with the straps of his pack, fingers clumsy with cold and fatigue. Cale simply stood, watching the mist with unblinking intensity.

Apollo gathered his own belongings, the relic a silent weight against his spine. Its unusual quiet bothered him more than its mockery, as if it were waiting, listening for something beyond their awareness.

He paused, suddenly aware of what was missing.

’The insects,’ he realized, scanning the reeds around their small island. ’They’re gone.’