1: The Birds

It was early morning. The streets were empty, but in some places hints of activity could now be seen or heard. The birds sang their songs and the nocturnal animals were getting to sleep as shades of purple and pink and yellow tinted the dark blue sky.

Reyna liked watching the sky. It reminded her of Atlas, the world bearer Titan, who reminded her of her own burden and the strength that she ought to have as a praetor. The streets in the dawning day were silent, and she liked that too. It gave her space to think and made her feel less suffocated, less strained. She couldn't say she didn't enjoy her role in the Roman camp – to some extent, she was even glad that Percy and Annabeth had destroyed her previous home. But it was a tough job and it had made her lonely and bitter. She saw herself with no perspective, with no course once her time was over and she could rest – and that scared her.

And then there was she, a runaway, a ruler breaker, pacing down the streets with a gloomy expression on her face. Not very Roman of me, she thought, but for once that statement didn't bother her as much as she thought it should. Reyna even smiled, but it was a bitter smile, one that made her want to cry.

A fussy rustling filled the air, slowly and constantly increasing, until it caught her attention. Reyna's eyes wandered around for a while and then shock and puzzlement filled them – the idea of crying abandoned immediately her head. There was a house, about twenty meters away from her, and it was an old, abandoned house. The once red bricks were darkened with time, corroded by the inclement weather, covered by the moss. The windows were shut with smutty wooden boards, the grass was tall and wild and the smell of mold and abandon impregnated the air, even from distance. But the most impressive thing about the house was not the old, beat-up aspect, nor the general feeling of death that it irradiated.

It was the birds.

Reyna just couldn't believe her eyes. As she came closer, she discerned them – there were hundreds of them, of many sizes and shapes and textures and colors. There were pigeons and crows. There were hummingbirds, swifts, owls and cuckoos. There were a few eagles, two falcons, three hawks that she could see and one or two peacocks. There were many birds she couldn't recognize, for she'd never even imagined they existed.

They covered the roof of the old house, and they covered partially the roofs of the houses nearby, for there wasn't room for them all. And more and more came, and the rustling only got louder, until Reyna thought the sound of their wings would drive her crazy. She hid in the shadows, her eyes wide open and her hands covering her ears.

And suddenly they stopped, all at the same time. There was no singing, no rustling – even the air seemed to have gone still, as if the world was holding its breath. The birds in the roofs looked up to the sky, in expectation. Reyna followed their eyes, and what she saw made her gasp.

One big bird, the size of a horse and with the grace of a swan, descended slowly to the center of the ruined house's roof. It was beautiful, truly breath-taking. The feathers were of gold and amber and copper and brass. They looked soft, and they looked like steel, all at the same time. The sunlight touched them as it rose, and the bird glowed with it, marvelously, spectacularly. It was almost as if it was catching on fire, or maybe as if it was the fire itself.

It's a miracle, thought Reyna in a daze, but it's also scary.

A sense of dread filled her as she watched the conference of birds. For some reason, it looked like a war council, and Reyna knew enough about war councils to understand that those birds were very angry – and that someone would pay for that. They hooted and screeched, and they swayed their wings crustily and nervously. The big bird only heard, not peeping even once for a long time. It almost looked like a statue, made to be venerated.

And then the strangest thing happened: the world flickered for an instant, and then, as if Reyna had been underwater, her surroundings became hazy and vague. The peeping of the birds became distant, as if there was a radio on distance broadcasting the sounds of nature with a lot of interference.

Then the world got normal again, with no haziness and no flickering. Hesitantly, Reyna looked to the roof of the House of Birds. But there was no bird. There was no peeping or screeching or rustling of wings. Only silence and something else. Reyna turned toward the source of the "something else", puzzled and scared as the memory of the birds slipped away from her mind.

The "something else" was a girl in a bicycle, riding slowly as she watched the sunrise with uneasiness. From the distance, Reyna couldn't see much, but as the girl stopped the bike and looked around, she saw those eyes – strange eyes, of vivid kryptonite green, glowing with the sunlight.

She'd already forgotten all about the birds, but she wouldn't forget those eyes too soon, or the feeling that they gave her: a feeling of deceit, of occult magic and of deep secrets she wished she'd never have to face.

The girl entered a house and Reyna left, but not without glancing once again to the old house, wondering why she had hidden in the shadows in the first place.

::

"Where have you been?"

Reyna didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed in the distance, thoughtful and worried.

"Reyna?"

A hint of irritation surfaced in her face. She pursed her lips with distaste.

"Yes?"

"Is there anything wrong?"

She finally glanced at him, for just a few seconds, before she looked away once more.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Yeah, sure. And I'm Batman."

"I've always suspected," she muttered to herself.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

Jason stared at her with concern in his electric blue eyes, and then he sat down by her side in the lawn. There was a respectful distance between them, but the tension that had been there for almost two years had decreased. He was glad about that. Reyna was a tough person to know, but she was brave and loyal, and a very good friend.

"You can talk to me, you know."

She didn't say anything at that. There was nothing to be said, after all. They sat completely still for some moments, just appreciating the silence. Then Reyna shifted, uncomfortably.

"There's something… It's like it's slipped from my mind." She hesitated.

"But you don't remember anything?"

She shook her head, and then she slowly stopped. Her eyes brightened for a moment, and then they faded once again.

"What?"

"There's something. I think." She gulped. "About birds."

"Birds?"

"Birds. But I don't remember." She gritted her teeth. "I hate not remembering."

Jason gave her a lopsided smile.

"Now you know how I felt."

Reyna didn't answer. As far as he could tell, she'd drowned into her own thoughts once again. And from his experience, she would only get back to her normal self once she'd come to a course of action. Jason sighed. Then, as the hour of the morning duties approached, he got up. She followed him, almost unconsciously, and in silence they went back together to the Via Praetoria.