From The Beginning {A Percy Jackson Fanfiction}

| ϛ |

| 11,205 - 11,200 BCE |

| Post Poseidon's Birth |

"We have arrived at last."

Kronos allows himself to feel a moment of excitement, of giddiness. Hope and arrogance blossoms deep within his chest like the flowers that bloom atop Mount Othrys. He grips his scythe tighter as he swings it across the roots of the vines obscuring his destination.

After years of studying and mapping and scouting, he has finally found it. He gestures for one of his subjects to bring forth a rag, and they do so quickly and skittishly. Kronos pays it no mind, greedily wiping away what remained of the roots and moss to reveal the name of this cavern, etched deep within the stone from thousands of years ago.

Charonium.

The cave was only known through the whispers of the winds. But Kronos did not give up hope, praying to each and every Protogenos he knew. And his prayers were finally answered. His years of humble praying and subjugation, finally rewarded with but a word: Charonium.

Kronos had been frustrated at first, yes. He almost threw away his belief in the Protogenoi, close to seeking answers by himself. But he had told himself to last just a while more, and it had paid out. For Charonium was not just meaningless letters. It was a place. A destination.

And under further studies, the word would provide more knowledge than Kronos had even thought possible. Charonium, as it is formally called, and informally as Charon's Cave. Charon being the ferryman of the five rivers of the Underworld.

The one who could take Kronos to the one he sought.

Kronos steps away from the entrance of the cave. Its presence is ever-looming, a dark cloud that hangs above them at all times. He turns to the four subjects who had accompanied him on his journey. He points to two of them - he cannot be bothered to remember their names - and orders them to set up camp.

They scamper off almost immediately, gathering firewood and preparing tents. They would stand guard as Kronos and the others venture into the cave. He turns to Iapetus and grins, "Come. We are one step closer to victory." He flicks a finger at the last remaining guard, silently ordering him to follow.

Kronos turns back to the cave. The shadows that dance inside leer at him, meddling. This journey would not be easy, and that he knows. But if he wished to win this invisible war, he must always be ahead of his enemy.

Kronos enters the cave with Iapetus and another at his back. As soon as they step through the mouth, they are encased in a darkness that seems otherworldly. The shadows nip and prickle his skin. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand stiff. He does not rule over this land, and the land knows it.

He is an outsider, a foe.

Unable to handle the shade, Kronos hurriedly barks out. "Light a torch." The sound of rustling fabric, and unintelligible whispers. Irritation sparks instead of the torch. "Now, you fools!"

They finally manage to light it. The fire roars to life, battling against the darkness that threatens to put it out. Through the light, Kronos can spot Iapetus' unnerved face. His mouth is twisted into a scowl, but his eyes dart around nervously.

Kronos grins. Iapetus was one of his brothers that aided him in his fight against Ouranos. And, in return, he was granted the title and power of Lord of the West. He would not have been Kronos' first choice, but Atlas was... busy, so he would have to make do. His second guard has a forgettable face. Shivering in his loincloth, eyes darting to each shadow as if they would jump out and slit his throat.