It was late, and the lateness of the hour was pounding home how late he was. The old Apollo would never be this late to rescue a Muse. The old god he used to be, back when the world was right. In the old land. With his old powers. His rightful strength. He had no counter for how much he lacked, in the here and now. The fates said he would not find Erato and he had no power to change that and it grated. It shredded. It destroyed. It made him want to destroy.
He was like a mortal, raging against the whim of the fates, and he hated it. Something had to be done. Something to stop this happening again. Because it would. Which Muse next? Or would something happen to Cin? Fuck, he'd tear the world apart, only, the world refused to let him.
Fuck.
He was pacing his balcony when the call came through. A lion in a cage. Golden, glorious, powerful, and caged nonetheless. The sight of the minotaur's name on his phone shot him through with feeling a whole sort of way – that Erato was apparently so fond of that beast, ugh – but he answered the call in seconds all the same. News, that's what the call was. The rest of the future was foggy as fuck but the call was so obviously news. "What is it?"