the_blood_of_olympus_-_rick_riordan

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Reyna
MOST OF THE TIME, Reyna could control her nightmares.
She had trained her mind to start all her dreams in her favourite place – the Garden of Bacchus on
the tallest hill in New Rome. She felt safe and tranquil there. When visions invaded her sleep – as
they always did with demigods – she could contain them by imagining they were reflections in the
garden’s fountain. This allowed her to sleep peacefully and avoid waking up the next morning in a
cold sweat.
Tonight, however, she wasn’t so lucky.
The dream began well enough. She stood in the garden on a warm afternoon, the arbour heavy with
blooming honey-suckle. In the central fountain, the little statue of Bacchus spouted water into the
basin.
The golden domes and red-tiled roofs of New Rome spread out below her. Half a mile west rose
the fortifications of Camp Jupiter. Beyond that, the Little Tiber curved gently around the valley,
tracing the edge of the Berkeley Hills, hazy and golden in the summer light.
Reyna held a cup of hot chocolate, her favourite drink.
She exhaled contentedly. This place was worth defending – for herself, for her friends, for all
demigods. Her four years at Camp Jupiter hadn’t been easy, but they’d been the best time of Reyna’s
life.
Suddenly the horizon darkened. Reyna thought it might be a storm. Then she realized a tidal wave
of dark loam was rolling across the hills, turning the skin of the earth inside out, leaving nothing
behind.
Reyna watched in horror as the earthen tide reached the edge of the valley. The god Terminus
sustained a magical barrier around the camp, but it slowed the destruction for only a moment. Purple
light sprayed upward like shattered glass, and the tide poured through, shredding trees, destroying
roads, wiping the Little Tiber off the map.
It’s a vision, Reyna thought. I can control this.
She tried to change the dream. She imagined that the destruction was only a reflection in the
fountain, a harmless video image, but the nightmare continued in full vivid scope.
The earth swallowed the Field of Mars, obliterating every trace of forts and trenches from the war
games. The city’s aqueduct collapsed like a line of children’s blocks. Camp Jupiter itself fell –
watchtowers crashing down, walls and barracks disintegrating. The screams of demigods were
silenced, and the earth moved on.
A sob built in Reyna’s throat. The gleaming shrines and monuments on Temple Hill crumbled. The