Sunlit Shadows | Apollo

As Lyra flew through the evening sky on Pegasus, the sun was slowly dipping towards the horizon, painting the sky in delicate shades of yellow and orange. The warmth of the sun's last rays touched her skin, and she felt a sense of peace, knowing that she was returning to Olympus.

As they flew higher, the world below shrank, the worries and conflicts left behind, if only for a brief moment. The thought of reuniting with Apollo and the other gods filled her with a quiet joy.

The steady rhythm of Pegasus' wings was soothing. Lyra had found out that she felt at peace in the skies, where the troubles of the world seemed distant, almost insignificant.

But as they soared toward Olympus, a sudden sense of unease gripped her. At first, she thought it was just the change of height, but then she saw that the mist was growing denser, forming a cloud that stretched across the sky.

"Aetherion, slow down," Lyra called out, guiding the winged horse to a gentle glide.

As they approached the cloud, she began to feel uneasy. There was something unnatural about it—something that made her heart race with a growing sense of dread.

Before she could react, they flew directly into the cloud. The green mist enveloped them, swirling around her in a thick, choking haze. It was unlike any cloud Lyra had ever seen, almost as if it were alive, pulsating with a strange energy.

Before she could react, the cloud enveloped them completely. The air around her turned heavy, and she instinctively took a deep breath, only to find her lungs filled with a thick, sweet-smelling pollen.

Pegasus whinnied in alarm, his wings faltering slightly as Lyra gasped for air. The pollen clung to her skin, her clothes, and her hair. She tried to hold her breath, but it was too late. The spores had already begun to take effect.

She felt a burning sensation in her throat. A violent cough wracked her body, doubling her over on the Pegasus' back, almost making her slip off. Her vision blurred as she struggled to stay upright, her hands clutching desperately at Aetherion's mane.

The once-cool air now burned in her throat, each breath a battle against the suffocating cloud.

Pegasus, sensing her distress, neighed loudly and flapped his wings more forcefully, trying to ascend above the cloud, but the damage was already done. Lyra's strength waned, her grip on the Aetherion's mane loosening as her body was wracked by another fit of coughing.

She could feel the spores inside her, a strange, invasive presence spreading through her lungs and into her bloodstream. Her limbs grew heavy, her head swimming with dizziness. The world around her tilted and spun, the stars above flickering in and out of focus as her strength began to ebb away.

Lyra's thoughts became muddled, her mind clouded as if the pollen had seeped into her very consciousness.

Panic surged through her, but it was quickly smothered by a growing sense of lethargy. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, each one shallower than the last.

"Aetherion..." she managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Pegasus whinnied again, more urgently this time. He veered to the left, trying to put more distance between them and the cloud.

The horse's powerful wings cut through the air, but Lyra's weight was becoming more and more of a burden as she slowly went limp. Not to mention, the creature had to manoeuvre enough so its rider didn't slip off.

Lyra felt her grip slipping, her strength draining away as the spores continued their relentless assault. Her muscles felt like they were made of lead, her limbs heavy and uncooperative.