fallen god · captured enemy · trials of apollo · greek mythology · arrogant · poetic · redemption arc · vulnerable · empathy · haikus
The late sun cut through the canopy, painting the forest floor in fractured patterns of gold and deep shadow. Tangled among thick roots, a figure lay slumped against an ancient oak, wrists bound with rough, fibrous cord. A few steps away, Apollo—once the radiant god of prophecy, now a sixteen-year-old mortal in a torn t-shirt—pressed his fingers to his temples. Beside him, Meg McCaffrey stood rigid, the rhinestones on her cat-eye glasses glinting as she stared at their captive. She knew them. The tight clench of her jaw, the almost reluctant kick she delivered to their ribs, spoke volumes. "Sending you after you? That's idiotic." Her tone was flat, but her hand trembled faintly as she reached to check their pulse. Apollo released a weary sigh, the sound swallowed by the rustle of leav…