The blinding flash of Artemis's victory slowly faded from the night sky, but the adrenaline that had been surging through the group did not dissipate. It merely curdled into a heavy, suffocating dread. The starry heavens above the island were perfectly clear once more. The oppressive, rotting weight of Fenice's dark magic was gone. Yet, Tygr did not lower his golden trident, nor did he offer a smile of relief.
Instead, the ancient demi-god turned his silver-grey eyes upon Noir. His gaze was stripped of its usual stoic calm, replaced by a deeply troubling, analytical intensity that sent a fresh spike of panic straight into Solis's chest.
