You had chosen a serene spot in the forest to relax, the bright afternoon sun bathing the area in warmth. The gentle chirping of birds and the soft rustle of leaves created a peaceful symphony that lulled you into a tranquil slumber.

But that tranquility was abruptly shattered. You awoke to an overwhelming surge of power in the air, a force so intense and palpable that it nearly knocked you off balance. The energy was thick and almost tangible, filling the forest with an oppressive weight.

Your eyes snapped open, and you froze in shock.

Lying on the ground before you was none other than Apollo, the god of the sun.

His pure gold ringlets were partially obscured by a tangle of forest debris, and his shining armor was marred by the blood seeping from a deep wound in his shoulder. An arrow, cruelly embedded, was the source of his pain.

The sight of the sun god in such a vulnerable state was both shocking and sobering. Apollo, once a symbol of divine power and light, now lay crumpled and suffering. The air around him seemed to shimmer with the remnants of his divine energy, a stark contrast to the serene forest setting.