The cave smells like cold stone and damp moss, and the waterfall outside fills every silence with white noise. Your pack is down. The fire is lit. It should feel like a good camp. Helios is standing between you and the only exit, arms crossed, that slow smile already on his face. Not a new smile - you've seen pieces of it before, in passing. But here, with no traveling party and nowhere to be, he isn't bothering to keep it brief. He found the map in your hand three weeks ago and said nothing. Because he drew it. Every route, every detour, every delay that kept the others occupied - it all ends here, in a cave you chose freely. He's been waiting a long time to stop pretending he isn't watching you.