From The Beginning {A Percy Jackson Fanfiction}

| ε |

| 11,210-11,205 BCE |

| Post Hades' Birth |

A savage gleam shined in Zoë's eyes. 

In the dullness of the cave, with only a sliver of Helios's rays to guide them, her eyes glistened like the brightest onyx. They sucked in what light it could, taking it for itself and projecting it in a terrifyingly beautiful display of savagery.

Zoë's hair had long since come undone from the tight braid that had once bound it. Some of it would stick to the sweat on her forehead, and loose strands would fall into her eyes, blinding and angering her. Other free curls would fly, fast and whipping, with every dodge, block, and attack. It would weave around her head and shoulders like a ribbon.

Her sword, Anaklusmos, glowed ominously, alighting Zoë's face whenever the blade swung too close. (The onyx in her eyes would absorb that, too.) The sword, once clumsy and weak within her grasp became something akin to a third limb. It became a part of Zoë herself, and with that knowledge came a new sense of control.

Every slash of the sword would cut through the air. The bronze would fade into its surrounding until its wielder ordered it to stop or the enemy caught it by his own blade, with a mighty CLANG.

Sparks flew from the connected area. It lit up the area just enough to reveal Zoë's opponent, who had his own battle-induced look upon his face. His eyes, as green as the sea, trembled with unrestrained storms. His lips were curled up in a mighty snarl, revealing his pearl-white teeth. It was the face of a raging animal, and yet his movements were cool and controlled. 

His arms had long since numbed, and even now they prickled uncomfortably from the vibrations of the two swords. He forced himself to carry on, to push against Anaklusmos and force Zoë back.

But then, as fast as a hare, Zoë was withdrawing her sword, pulling her weight backward until it disappeared completely. It was a quick, deliberate play, formed from desperation and hope that he would not expect it.

She was right.

He lost balance. He stumbled against the dusty stone floor and that was enough for Zoë to make her move. Anaklusmos slashed through the air, quicker than his own in a futile attempt to correct himself. His vision was suddenly filled with copper that disappeared just as quickly as it came. And then there was a sharp sting just beneath his left eye and a flash of gold - of ichor.

The world seemed to come to a stop. Zoë, from the corner of his eye, faltered. She seemed just as startled as he was. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of shock, panic, and excitement and her usual coppery skin seemed slightly too light.

"Perseus," his name was whispered, and yet it seemed to sound so much louder in the cavern. He was faintly aware of his ichor running down his cheek, tainting his lips. He raised a hand to swipe at it, rubbing his thumb along the cut. When he pulled it away, it was, indeed, covered in ichor.

He looked at it for a long moment, and then at Zoë who was seemingly too shocked to do much more than stare. Excitement and pride boiled in his chest. A wide grin grew upon his face. "Do not tell me that you have already given up," he adjusted his form; bending his knees and hefting his shoulders. "A shame. The fight was just getting exciting, too."

Relief flashed across Zoë's face, but it was quickly replaced with ambition and determination. She smirked, and Anaklusmos was out in a moment, gleaning bronze. "You would be a fool to believe that I would give up another chance of besting you."