ACT I, CHAPTER III
"Wake up."
Was he dreaming again?
"Wake up."
This time, the words are clearer, more affirmative. He's not dreaming.
For a moment, his heartbeat quickens as he remembers Hestia, waking him at midnight. The events that followed. The grief that followed.
His eyes open, and are met by Zoe's solemn gaze.
"We need to go, now." Zoe's words leave no choice for argument, and she drags him up before ushering him to be quiet.
He blinks, trying to gain his bearings. Judging by the position of the sun, it was late in the afternoon. He'd definitely had been really tired.
When he opens his mouth to ask, she places a finger on his lips, gesturing him to crouch under a thicket of undergrowth before talking.
"There are few monsters of Ancient Greece in these sacred lands," Zoe whispers, cautiously surveying their camp perimeter, before musing to herself: "I wonder which god or goddess has quarrels with us."
He's compelled to mention Aphrodite's death wish on him, but doesn't have the time nor willpower to before she ushers him to move again.
"Stay low, and move with caution," she instructed, and he briefly recalled her description of his 'crashing' footsteps in the forest when they went hunting the day before.
Duly noted.
As they shuffle along the undergrowth, she abruptly grabs his arm - — forcing them to stop. The woods are so quiet that the sound of their respective heartbeats can be heard hammering softly to any observant predator. Impatient, he's about to start shuffling forward again, when he stops.
Now he understands why Zoe was so agitated.
Ahead of them, the Minotaur carefully sniffs through the bushes, stopping abruptly to pick up another scent.
The scent of a demigod.
Both of them, too scared to react, opt to stay as still as possible.
A mistake.
The Minotaur — with its terrifying amalgamation of a bull's head and a man's body — roars into the air as it catches a definite whiff of its prey.
The hunt had begun.
Perseus knows he needs to move. But he can't bring himself to, not when he's in the presence of one of the most legendary, feared monsters of Greece.
Yet Theseus had succeeded. Brother by divine blood or not, he had to follow in the footsteps of the greats.
Luckily, Zoe's grip on his arm tightens painfully, bringing his senses back into action. Move. Yes, he needs to move. But could they outrun the Minotaur, much less fight it?
Unfortunately, they're not given that freedom of forethought when the monster's gaze locks onto them.
Zoe is barely given the time to mouth 'run' before hell breaks loose.
The Minotaur storms towards the two, and the two split. However, it's evident Perseus has the scent of a demigod, so the Minotaur reels to the right.
Fight or Flee? Those primal instincts, accentuated from his years of training, thrum restlessly through each limb. The pumping adrenaline, coupled with the heavy, malodorous breath of the Minotaur not far back don't help either.
Flee.
He hears the encouraging shouts of Zoe - the twanging of her bowstring - and her enraged shouts to direct its attention off her companion. It's no use. He's got to face the monster sooner or later.
But Perseus blocks out her shouts for now. Slides under a fallen log - only to grimace as the Minotaur simply smashes through it, sending fragments of wood flying. He's already tired, the Minotaur is surprisingly quick for such a large monster, and he's not sure if he can rely on his powers — much less, his godly parent.
A quick scan of the forest yields a reasonable, yet likely impractical quantity of water particles. He can stall — but for how long?
But the Minotaur has already caught up. He can feel its fiery breath on his neck as his legs tire.
Arms outstretched on two sides, he feels the thousands of individual droplets of water, and pulls each towards him. It could've been imagination, but he hears the roaring of waves not far ahead.
Each step of the Minotaur shakes the ground directly behind him.
He can't give up now. Not with unfinished business.
Aphrodite and Aeneas could go to Hades for all he cared.
With one last, powerful tug, he gathered the ball of water and swung towards the Minotaur.
But he had turned around — needed to — in order to provide a distraction long enough to attack. His only weapon was a knife, and he doubted plain iron would suffice against a celestial monster. The heroes had used weapons made of celestial bronze.
For a second, he curses. He recalled his mother owning a bronze dagger — Elpízo — "hope", it was called. She was gone, along with its whereabouts.
As it thunders closer, he panics, flinging the ball of water at its eyes. Perhaps out of sheer luck, he wills the water to boil as hot as he can muster.
It splashes onto the eyes of the Minotaur.
The Minotaur freezes — then rears its head back in pain. Its ear-piercing roar doesn't help either, considering how close Perseus is to the monster.
But it's merely a distraction.
And once again, he's defenseless and on the ground, and isn't even given the opportunity to run before the Minotaur huffs angrily, bearing down furiously at his prey.
His mother definitely would not be happy to see her son joining her in the Underworld so soon.
He closes his eyes, tightening his grip on his dagger. He had to do something — anything.
Before he's given the chance to react, he's saved by the familiar twang of Zoe's bow — and this time her arrow meets its mark. His limbs stumble backward, just in time and out of reach of the Minotaur's grasp.
An arrow is embedded straight through its eye.
There was a frozen split second of surprise before the Minotaur bellowed in response akin to the sensation of pain — something it likely hadn't felt since Theseus. And as one of the apex monsters of the Greek world, the Minotaur would not let that go unpunished.
Zoe had given him time to think — he'd been given a second chance.
It focused its beady eyes on Perseus, contemplating for once as its mind clears of brash anger. Only revenge.
And it charges for Zoe.
Zoe — defenseless Zoe was left to fire her arrows as fast as humanly possible, but chose to draw her sword out too late as the Minotaur slammed into her.
A sense of vainness had washed over him. How was anyone supposed to vanquish a beast as terrifying as the Minotaur?
He didn't want to lose Zoe. He knew he couldn't bear to let another close soul die in vain because of him.
But Theseus had succeeded. And in every story, the hero had succeeded. He had grown up with these tales of old, the legendary brawls between demigod and monster potently woven in his youthful imagination, each thread, each story, crystal clear in memory. If they could, why couldn't he?
But a part of him questioned the validity of those tales. His mother had been told of those same tales, and her father before her, and so on. And at one point, stories become tales, and tales would become myths, long forgotten.
Yet he needed the strength to go on. Not just to face the Minotaur, but his past, his future, wherever his fate would lead him. Even if those tales were lies crafted for sleeping children, they held some truth. To be courageous, selfless, and so much more.
This was just the first of many tasks ahead.
And so he pushed himself up. Ignored his fatigued legs and step by step, made his way towards the monster.
With a grunt, he flung the dagger — his only weapon — sprinting towards the Minotaur as his dagger bounced harmlessly off its side.
He didn't care if he was weaponless — he'd use his hands.
It was at this point he let his instincts take over, and jumped onto the Minotaur. It was certainly a new tactic, and doubt began to rise in his chest. How had Theseus done it?
Perseus racked his mind for answers. Of course, there were none. After all, what kind of tale or myth would include the specificities of how Theseus defeated the Minotaur?
Fine, then. He would do it himself.
With a roar, his hands grasped onto one of the horns, and he pulled. Prayed to Zeus, Poseidon, heck, even Ares. He didn't care. He needed to save Zoe.
As if his prayers were answered, there was a resounding crack. Yet it wasn't only from the horn he had snapped. Thunder was crackling ominously in the sky. Olympus was watching.
The Minotaur howled, but he hung on long enough in time for a hair-clip soar into the air, within arms reach. He knew what he had to do.
As Anaklusmos elongated to its full length, he let go of the broken horn, mustering every ounce of willpower he had left to push the sword into the Minotaur's writhing neck.
The Minotaur shrieked, dissipating into golden dust as the storm cleared.
It was over.
Zoe.
She was on the ground, and from the looks of it, hadn't been able to move during the whole ordeal. After all, she'd been slammed full force into a tree by the Minotaur.
"Thank you, Zoe," he smiled gratefully, pocketing her hair-clip and offering a hand to her.
That hand quickly dropped when he scanned her body. No. This couldn't be happening again.
Below her right shoulder, a gaping hole from the Minotaur's horn had torn through under her right shoulder, and blood was pouring out rapidly.
He'd expected bruising, but not… this. A gaping wound as a result from the Minotaur's horn.
The adrenaline that had worn off seconds ago was reignited with fresh fear and panic as her face began to turn gray.
'The ocean'.
Perseus whipped around, searching for the voice's source.
"Who's there?"
'Come to the ocean if you want your friend to live. Then we may discuss. Quickly.'
He had hopes it was his father, and hope was the only strength that pushed him on through the forest, carrying Zoe in her arms. And this divine force, whatever it was, consciously led the way.
He knew where to go. He could feel the ocean at his fingertips.
"Don't die on me, alright?"
The flicker in her eyes only slightly eased his agitation. He ran faster.
It was when the first thoughts of doubt and tiredness arose that the blue waves of the Trojan coast could be seen through the thicket of leaves.
He heaved his legs against the bushes, against the stinging nettles on his chest and hitting his face like it intended to go right through. With eyes squinted to let in only enough light in order to navigate, he never slackened his pace. Each step took him closer to the hearth of hope, and to safety.
He didn't dare glance down at her; too afraid of the consequences he had brought upon her or the sickly sight of her wound, he did not know.
As he neared the coastline, a figure could be spotted rising up from under the waves, waiting.
There was no time for greetings as he laid Zoe down in the waves, grimacing as the water around her diluted into a deep shade of red. For a moment, he allowed the sensation of the welcoming water clear his mind, and reinvigorate his limbs before closing his eyes.
Taking a breath in, he calmed his nerves, trying to block out the mysterious figure watching and the tense reality of the situation. He had done this before. He wasn't sure exactly how, and he had his own guesses, but that could be answered later, if he succeeded.
It was exactly the same as when he healed his cuts from their first encounter.
Except this was much, much worse.
Perseus willed the waves to lap over Zoe's wound, attempting to guide the water over the free-flowing blood. His hands strained, and the tug in his gut tightened as he forced both sides of the water to merge, each strand effortlessly molding with flesh.
He wondered if the food of the gods — ambrosia — could help better.
And as he opened his eyes, the wound had been closed. The flesh was raw. Pink and new, yet definitely closed. It was no minor cut or bruise from his childhood years, but this felt accomplishing.
And… complete.
"Perseus of Dardania," the woman stated, treading on the surface of the water, "amidst war brewing right at your doorstep, the gods have found time to interest themselves with your accomplishments. I must say, the way you have held yourself together, and your determination is commendable. It seems like you are just like your father, in many true aspects."
Perseus blinked.
"Apologies," she laughed. "I am Galatea, goddess of calm seas and one of the fifty Nereides. Your father asked me to find you."
His knee immediately touched the ground, as he bowed his head. This was a goddess. The second one he had seen, in fact.
Galatea chuckled, stepping forwards to lift him up. "There is no need to bow, Perseus…" she paused, before nodding. "I'm sure you have many questions."
She stood languidly, as if she had all the time in the world. Perseus couldn't blame her - she was a goddess, born immortal. She would never understand the life of a mortal, to live each day with purpose as if it were their last.
He sighed inwardly, channeling the water to dissipate the rest of Zoe's blood away.
"Yes, Lady Galatea," Perseus affirmed. "If you're able to, I'd like to know who my father is."
There was a long pause before Galatea laughed, small waves lapping at her feet as she did so. "Oh! I figured you'd have figured it out by now. Your father is Poseidon. Lord of the Seven Seas, Earth-Shaker, and Horse Bringer."
The son of Poseidon frowned darkly. "No offense to you, my lady, but am I not deemed worthy yet to be in the presence of Lord Poseidon?"
"No, of course not!" Gatalea dismissed, conjuring two seats out of water and gesturing to sit. Begrudgingly, he follows her suggestion as she takes the other seat and breathes in deeply. "There are... ancient laws that forbid any god or goddess from meeting their child. Even though I think it is a strange law, it is just how the godly world functions."
He could tell the goddess was choosing her words wisely, looking up at the sky every so and often.
"Immortals have lived for millenia, bearing countless children. Sometimes it is… challenging for them to express how proud they are, given they grow a sense of detachment, knowing their child will die sooner or later. They may be restricted by ancient laws, but I promise that your father isn't one to ignore his children," she reassured. "My reason of visit today on behalf of your father is to deliver a message, and some help."
A promise. Coming from Helen, he could hardly stifle a snort at the thought of a promise. But this was a goddess…
Zoe groaned from her position on the ground, and Galatea quickly materialized a bed of water underneath her. Catching sight of his anxious expression, she humorously assured, "She will be alright. My powers of healing in water rival even Lord Apollo's."
She continued, "Your father wishes for you to either return to Greece to build your name in his honor, or, if you wish, to tie up loose ends here in Troy."
Loose ends.
Poseidon, his father, knew what played out that night. And as an all-seeing god, most certainly witnessed the events that unfolded too.
Why didn't he help?
As if reading his thoughts, Galatea answered his question. "We immortals rely on our children much more than you think we do. But when it comes to dealing with mortals, especially mortals backed by a certain god and goddess, civil war cannot be risked."
Aphrodite was out for blood.
And as a son of Poseidon, he could perceive that a natural dislike from the king of the gods had already been established.
"I'm afraid things will only get worse from here," Galatea sighed motherly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have my blessing, young one. Please stay safe."
The rumbling sound of thunder could be heard not far behind.
He understood now, understood why his mother had kept his heritage from him all those years ago. Ignorance was truly a bliss.
"Go, Perseus," she whispered, squeezing his hand reassuringly. A pouch of items were softly placed upon his hands. He smiled his gratitude.
"Make the sea proud."
――――――――――Ψ――――――――――
He awoke on the sand, with the waves gently lapping at his feet. Confused at how he ended up here.
But his mind was as clear as ever.
He had a purpose now. He knew who his father was. His childhood prayers had been answered, his questions acknowledged by the gods.
And that was all he needed to go on.
On his right, the pouch Galatea had gifted him lay undisturbed. He reached for it, digging through the items within.
The first item consisted of a smaller pouch filled with… ambrosia? It was the food of the gods, known to have healing properties. He gently placed it back. It would definitely be useful later.
His hand dug deeper, pulling out three celestial bronze throwing knives, all sheathed. The weapon of demigods and gods alike. Galatea had truly prepared him for not just another Minotaur encounter, but for every monster out there.
He knew his scent was strong, but strong enough to attract the Minotaur?
Strapping his knives across his chest, he sighed. Knowing the gods were real had revealed a world of impossibilities and excitement, but hadn't allowed him to fathom fast enough the danger that his heritage came with.
Beside him, Zoe let out an aching groan, digging her elbows in the sand to prop herself up. From the looks of it, the wound had healed.
As his eyes scanned the ocean's vast expanse of calm, he savors the salt-rich air, the invigorating sensation of seawater, teeming with an unlimited capacity of brewing energy.
He'd make the sea proud, that was for sure.
"Perseus?" Zoe asked, craning her next to the right in order to see him. "The Minotaur… what happened? We were fighting, then I saw this goddess…" She trailed off.
Unreluctantly, he stepped out of the water, ambling towards her. "The Minotaur's gone. I spoke with the goddess Galatea while you were resting — she confirmed that my father is in fact, Poseidon."
Zoe nodded, looking disdainfully at her broken bow. "I thought so too. You'll do well, I'm sure of that."
The son of Poseidon smiled gratefully, heaving his body onto the sand next to her. His fingers brought out the hair-clip, still in pristine condition. A magical weapon.
"Thank you for the help, by the way. I couldn't have done it without you," Perseus remarked, in earnest. "And… I'm sorry you got hurt. Truly." he hastily added, glancing at the freshly-healed scar.
She laughed, "Let bygones be bygones, we make a good team. If you couldn't have done it without me, you're going to need the sword much more than I do. Besides, I'm horrible with a sword anyway."
Anaklusmos gleams within his palm.
His lips whisper a thank you, and to the Fates for bestowing him such a wonderful friend.
He guess he'd call her a friend now.
"I think I'm just going to sit here," he says, looking past the rolling tides. Galatea had kept them calm for them. Or was it Poseidon?
He didn't mind.
He'd savor this standstill moment — one of the last sunsets he'd share with her before he knew they'd inevitably part ways. He didn't want to think about that. Not yet, not now.
But by the gods, was this sunset as beautiful as the day he watched Helen go.
"I think I'm just going to sit here," he quietly repeats, closing his eyes and letting exhaustion envelop him.
It felt like drifting away on a raft at sea, the smell of sea salt and cold air in his nose.
He breathed out.
"Oh this is amazing," Aphrodite laughed. "No, I take it back — this is my favourite story yet."
Hi, small temporary author's note. I've decided to split some chapters into bite-sized 3-4000 words, and that includes this one here. Personally, this just makes it easier to proofread and micromanage important scenes more easily. A few changes have been made, which should hopefully make the Zoe-Percy interactions better.
As always, join the discord link in my bio for any questions. Post a review for any constructive critique or suggestions. Thank you all.