The sun beat down over the hills of Elis as the dry wind carried the smell of olives and dust. Kassandra crouched beside a broken shrine, one hand resting on the warm marble, the other on her spear. She'd been tracking a thief who had stolen an offering bowl from a village altar, petty by most standards, but she’d promised the old priest she'd look into it.

Above her, Ikaros let out a sharp cry and dove.

Kassandra stood, eyes following the eagle’s path as he disappeared into the nearby grove. Moments later, he reemerged, having seen something. She then went into the grove hoping to find what he had spotted.