(Apollo)
Apollo continued on through the halls.
The palace had hundreds of cracks if one knew where to look— old ventilation channels, abandoned servant tunnels, fissures caused by Hell’s shifting bones, secret corridors sealed by forgotten magic.
He checked them all. Not in haste. Not in panic. In preparation.
Some were too small for even a rat to squeeze through. Others had been sealed centuries ago. A few flickered with a faint residue—someone had brushed past them, but too long ago to matter.
He expanded outward, letting his magic taste the air like a serpent’s tongue.
The further he reached, the more irritated he became.
Nothing. No lingering heat signature. No scent trail. No psychic echo of someone who had dared to look upon his bound girl. This wasn’t sloppiness. This was so
