Chapter 13: Blasphemy

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Zoë's breath came in fast, sharp gasps, each inhale and exhale hitched as if summoning the onset of a violent downpour. The air felt thick, and a high-pitched ringing filled her ears, muting the world around her to a distant hum. Her hands trembled as she scrambled backward, her eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on the bronze blade that remained mercilessly impaled through Perseus's back.

"Perseus," she whispered, the name barely escaping her lips, more a breath than a word. Her mind struggled to piece together the scene unfolding before her to make sense of the brutal reality that seemed more like a nightmarish illusion.

Perseus's body suddenly slumped forward, his strength abandoning him, his form limp and seemingly lifeless. As his body hit the rough, dirt ground with a heavy thud, the sound brutally snapped Zoë back to reality, her hearing sharply returning as the echo of his fall reverberated through the chilling silence. Questions raced through her mind, each one colliding with another in a chaotic whirlwind of fear and confusion. But before she could grasp any semblance of understanding, a series of chilling giggles cut through the tension, drawing her horrified gaze.

Hesitantly, her obsidian black eyes flicked toward where the human travelers had stood just moments ago. There they were, but not as they had been. Their mouths were stretched into grotesque grins, the kind of smile that twisted their features into something uncanny and otherworldly. As Zoë watched, their eyes slowly transitioned from almond brown to a glowing, dirt gold, the eerie light emanating from within hinting at their true nature.

The transformation was horrific. The once cream-colored skin of the travelers drained to a sickly gray, wispy smoke breaking from their pores as if their very essence was evaporating into the air. It reminded Zoë of the ghouls her sister Erytheia had once described in stories meant to terrify her during the long nights back in the Garden. The smoke swirled around them, thickening into a haze that painted them as beings pulled from the depths of a haunted tale. "The Allmother will gift us with her holy treasures for this deed," one of the monsters, clad in the guise of a knight, spoke with a glee that chilled Zoë to her core.

Another voice chimed in, equally elated, as if they were reveling in some dark festival. "Praise the Archon!" it cried out, the words echoing like a sinister chant around the clearing.

"Eidolons," Zoë whispered, the word falling from her lips like a curse.

Her breath caught in her throat as the reality of the situation crashed over her like a wave. Fragments of stories raced in her mind that she had heard about these spirits of possession—creatures that preyed on the weak-minded, usurping their will and consuming their essence. She wasn't ready to face such monsters, not yet. Despite her regular training and the countless sparring sessions with Perseus under the moon's watchful eye, she had never truly managed to land a decisive blow on him. How could she expect to combat these ghastly beings?

Her gaze snapped back to the fallen primordial, whose body lay unnaturally still against the rough turf. The pool of glowing gold ichor that seeped from his wound painted a stark, terrifying picture. It was then that Anysia—or whatever the eidolon's true name was—hissed a command to the others. "Seize the heretic," she ordered sharply, her voice slicing through the tense air.

Zoë felt a helpless spectator as three of the monsters began to advance towards her. They were intent on claiming Perseus, the one being who had offered her nothing but kindness and protection in her most vulnerable times. The realization that she might lose him now when she needed him most ignited a spark of desperation within her. Perseus had always been there, always shielding her from the darkest threats. How had she only now come to appreciate that fully? In the depths of her despair, she found herself silently pleading for a savior—someone powerful enough to save them. Her thoughts flew to Prometheus, hoping against hope that he might appear and turn the tide.

As her ears began to ring once more, a numbing sense of unreality threatened to overwhelm her. Her mind frayed at the edges, consumed by a haunting question.

What had she been growing stronger for?

In that critical moment, as fear and doubt threatened to overwhelm her, Zoë's attention was sharply drawn to a subtle yet unmistakable movement. Perseus's chest rose and fell ever so slightly, a faint but definite sign of life.

He was breathing.

This simple observation cut through the fog of her shock like a beacon in the night, and with it, her resolve crystallized. The hesitation that had gripped her moments before evaporated; she found her purpose illuminated by the stark realization that if no one else would stand to protect Perseus, she would take up that mantle. What had she been growing stronger for? She spat on the question and her own unwillingness to act. Who had she been growing stronger for? Herself, and for Perseus, to stand against any threat.

As Elpides moved closer, his voice broke through the tense silence. He called over his shoulder, seeking Anysia's approval with a reckless eagerness, "May I silence the girl?"

His words were filled with a twisted anticipation, expecting a simple command to execute his vile intent. But before Anysia could respond, Zoë sprang into action. Rising to her feet with a swift, fluid motion that belied the ferocity of her intent, she drew Anaklusmos from its dormant state. She unleashed the celestial bronze blade across Elpides's advancing form with a single, sweeping strike.

The blade sliced through him with a graceful and deadly precision—the celestial bronze, harmless to mortals, was lethal to monsters like him. Elpides staggered backward with a scream, the sound a mixture of pain and fury. He clawed at his chest, where Zoë's blade had passed, his form beginning to disintegrate. "Heathenous girl!"

The eidolon's smoky essence crumbled into dust, leaving behind the lifeless body of the human host it had once controlled. The rapid dissolution of the Eidolon was a grim reminder of the true nature of their enemies. Zoë, barely registering the ease with which she had dispatched Elpides, quickly positioned herself between the remaining eidolons and Perseus's prone form. Her actions were automatic, driven by a fierce protective instinct that left no room for fear. Anaklusmos was ready in her hands, gleaming under the growing dawn, its blade poised for the next threat.

The other eidolons hesitated, their grotesque smiles faltering as they witnessed the fate of their companion. Their dull gold eyes flickered with surprise and newfound caution, reassessing the young nymph who stood defiantly before them. The air was charged with tension, the remaining monsters unsure whether to advance or retreat in the face of Zoë's unexpected ferocity.

Zoë's stance was unyielding, her eyes blazing with a determination that belied her earlier uncertainty. Each breath she took was now a silent vow—to protect Perseus at all costs, to stand as the guardian he had once been for her. The morning air around her seemed to pulse with the gravity of her resolve, the shadows cast by Apollo's chariot stretching long and ominous across the new battlefield.

Anysia's shock at the sudden demise of her ally morphed quickly into a rage. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she hissed at Zoë, the fury in her voice palpable. "Thou art nothing but an annoyance!" she roared, her expression twisting into one of malevolent intent.

The ex-Hesperide felt a surge of adrenaline as the words washed over her, igniting a fierce determination within. She was not accustomed to fighting multiple enemies, but in that moment, driven by a desperate need to protect Perseus and prove her own worth, nothing else mattered. "I wish to be a hero," she whispered to herself, a declaration meant to bolster her courage. "A true hero."

As if her vow had summoned a newfound clarity, the world around her seemed to fall into a profound silence, slowing the chaos into a manageable rhythm. This eerie calm allowed her to focus intensely, noticing every detail of her opponents' movements. Her obsidian eyes sheened with a purple flash that mimicked the energy that passed over Anaklusmos' edge.

"Slay her, you fools!"

The two remaining eidolons advanced, brandishing their iron swords with menacing intent. Zoë crouched slightly, positioning herself to stay agile, her grip on Anaklusmos tight and ready. She recalled the lessons Perseus had instilled in her during their training sessions. As one eidolon lunged forward, striking at her, Zoë used the techniques she had learned. She deflected the blade with a practiced twist of her wrist, redirecting the force across her side. Seizing the moment, she countered, slamming the butt of her sword into the monster's chin with a satisfying thud.

However, the second eidolon was quick to capitalize on her momentary distraction. As Zoë parried the first attack, the second blade swung in. It moved slower than what she had become accustomed to with Perseus, yet it was still challenging to manage. In her attempt to adjust her footing, she stumbled slightly, narrowly dodging the incoming blade. Grunting in frustration, Zoë resolved to block the second strike, finding herself unable to maneuver quickly enough to deflect it safely. As celestial bronze met iron, the clash was fierce, and it was clear that the iron held the advantage in brute force.

Anaklusmos was knocked from her grip, flying out of her hands as the eidolon seized the opportunity to kick her back away from her blade.

Zoë hit the ground hard, the impact jarring her as she watched her sword skitter away. Scrambling to regain her footing, she realized both spirits had regrouped and were now standing ominously over her. Fighting two enemies simultaneously was a challenge she was not yet prepared for, despite the training and the strength she had gained from the fruit of immortality. Even with her enhanced abilities, the eidolons, fueled by something far beyond human capacity, seemed to surpass typical human limitations, showcasing the terrifying potential of their possessed hosts.

As the nymph lay on the cold, hard ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps, she felt a wave of despair wash over her. But the sight of Perseus, still and silent yet alive, reignited a spark of resolve within her. She couldn't give up—not now, not when so much was at stake. Gathering her wits and her remaining strength, Zoë prepared to rise and face the eidolons once more, determined to fight, to protect, and to survive.

Determination flared within Zoë as she clutched the loose dirt beneath her, her fingers digging into the earth. In a desperate bid to turn the tide, she hurled the dirt towards the eidolons' eyes, aiming to momentarily blind them and seize the opportunity to recover Anaklusmos. The particles of soil scattered in the air, briefly clouding the vision of her adversaries. This fleeting moment allowed her to crawl towards her leaf-bladed Xiphos, her heart pounding with hope.

However, just as her fingers grazed the hilt of her sword, a harsh kick sent her sprawling back. The figure loomed over her; it was Anysia, her face twisted in scorn. Zoë tried to rise, pushing herself to stand against the overwhelming odds, but her body betrayed her. Exhaustion clawed at her muscles, the adrenaline that had fueled her defiance rapidly ebbing away, and she crumpled back to her knees in the dirt.

Anysia towered over her, her voice dripping with contempt. "Thou art naught but a pretender," she sneered, "Nothing about thee is genuine."

Zoë shook her head, refusing to absorb the venom in Anysia's words. Her hair fell across her face, sticking to the tears she didn't even notice had begun to form. She brushed it back irritably, her mind racing for any strategy, any option that might allow her to regain control of the situation.

Anysia continued her tirade, reveling in Zoë's apparent helplessness. "There exists but one true purpose in the entirety of the cosmos," she proclaimed, her voice echoing with a fanatic conviction. "And little girls with little blades wield little influence upon fate."

Zoë's frustration boiled over at the condescension dripping from each word. "Cease thy prattle," she growled, her voice rough with anger and despair.

Ignoring her, Anysia bent down to pick up Anaklusmos from where it lay discarded in the dirt. Holding the celestial bronze sword with an ease that belied its divine nature, she pointed it mockingly at Zoë. A twisted giggle escaped her lips as she taunted the nymph. "The heroes of whom thou dreams? They are just that—dreams."

The words stung each one, a barb that hooked deep into Zoë's heart, dredging up her deepest insecurities and fears. She growled in response, a primal sound of defiance, but the strength of her retort faltered as she noticed tears streaming down her face. The realization that she was crying—crying out of frustration, fear, and a piercing sense of helplessness—ignited a fresh wave of anger at herself. "By Rhea's teeth!" she cursed softly, furious at her inability to stem the tide of emotions.

Zoë's eyes burned, her heart slowing.

Anysia began, launching into a grandiloquent speech, "O Allmother, forgive her for 'tis not her fault."

The eidolon spun Anaklusmos around and held the blade's edge in two hands. "A slave of ruin born naught of light's faith hath no understanding of thy divine judgment. Pray for her retribution!"

"With this blade, with her blood, may it purify her-" Her voice was suddenly cut off.

A low, pained groan echoed through the clearing, drawing every eye in its direction.

There, to the shock of all present, Perseus was slowly rising to his feet, the celestial bronze blade that had impaled him still gruesomely protruding through his back and chest. The scene held everyone in a stunned silence. With a grimace that spoke volumes of his enduring strength, Perseus grasped the hilt of the sword embedded in his torso. With a decisive motion, he ripped the blade out, the sound of metal against flesh sharply splitting the air.

Zoë's heart leaped into her throat as she witnessed the scene. "Perseus!" she cried out, her voice laced with fear and relief as she raced towards him, terrified for his life yet desperate to reach his side.

As she ran, the god examined the gaping wound in his abdomen, his expression one of detached curiosity. Around the injury, his flesh began to knit together, the wound's edges pulling inward as if guided by an invisible force. A soft glow emanated from the ichor that had pooled at his feet and stained his clothes, the divine essence shimmering with a faint, ethereal light. Gradually, the golden ichor evaporated into steam, dispersing into the air with a hiss that sounded almost like a sigh of relief.

"Curious," Perseus muttered to himself, his voice tinged with a hint of pain and wonder. "My body heals far slower than I anticipated, and this metal—celestial bronze—it does indeed place some strain upon my physical form."

Zoë reached him just as the last of the wound sealed itself, her hands trembling as she felt the now smooth skin where the horrific injury had been moments before. Tears streamed down her cheeks, a mix of relief and residual fear overwhelming her as she clutched his arms to steady herself. "You can't go off and die, or I'll kill you myself!" she managed to yell through her sobs, half in jest and half in earnest desperation.

Perseus chuckled lightly at her words, his demeanor brightening as he felt his strength fully return as if the sword through his torso had been nothing more than a bad dream. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle. "Thou didst a good job, Zoë. Truly."

She buried her face into his chest, her sobs quieting into muffled whimpers as he slowly stroked her hair, offering her the solace of his presence. Between shallow breaths, she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion, "Please, don't leave me again."

Lifting her chin gently to meet her gaze, the raven haired boy wiped away her tears with a tenderness that belied his formidable nature. "As long as the stars keep shining," he assured her, his voice soft yet firm, "I'll always be with thee."

At that moment, under the watchful eyes of the cosmos, a bond reaffirmed itself—strengthened by trials, by fear, and by the unspoken promises made in the quiet aftermath of the chaos. As Perseus held Zoë, the world around them seemed to recede, leaving nothing but the two of them, bound by fate and a shared resolve to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

A ferocious roar shattered the tranquil moment between Zoë and Perseus, pulling them sharply back to the harsh reality of their situation. Anysia, her face contorted with rage and disbelief, pointed Anaklusmos at them, her voice trembling with fury. "'Tis not just!" She screamed, unable to accept that Perseus had survived what should have been a fatal blow. "O Allmother hear mine call, with bronze, his godly essence should hath been scattered! His eyes to fall and his ichor to sleep!"

Zoë noticed a chilling shift in Perseus's demeanor as he faced Anysia's accusation. His aura darkened, radiating a power that felt almost sinister, yet paradoxically, she found comfort in this shadowy embrace. It was a darkness that promised protection, a formidable shield against the malevolence before them. With a protective instinct, Perseus gently ushered Zoë behind him, stepping forward to confront the three monsters. The foreign celestial bronze blade that had been driven through him now gleamed menacingly in his grip.

Anysia, undeterred, continued her rant, her voice laced with fanaticism. "Sacred judgment shall be cast upon thy wickedness, Perseus! Thou art no true god but a pretender!" she declared, her eyes wild with fervor.

Perseus remained eerily silent in response, his only movement being a slight raise of the celestial bronze sword. The two eidolons accompanying Anysia, wielding iron swords, raised their weapons in futile defiance. Anysia scorned them for their ignorance, reminding them harshly, "Iron holds no sway over gods!"

Ignoring her taunts, the primordial deity spoke a single word with a calm that belied the intensity of the moment.

"Wilt."

At his command, the two eidolons holding iron swords burst into nothingness, their forms disintegrating instantly, crumbling into black dust that was swiftly carried away by the wind.

Stunned by the display of raw power, Anysia's resolve flickered but did not falter. With a scream of "Heretic!" she charged at Perseus, Anaklusmos raised high for a strike.

But Perseus acted with a swiftness that belied his earlier injury, catching her by the throat and slamming her into the ground with a force that left her dazed and incapacitated. The sword slipped from Anysia's grasp, skittering across the dirt to stop at Zoë's feet. She bent down, her hands trembling as she picked up Anaklusmos. Holding the blade, she pointed it shakily at the fallen eidolon, her grip firm yet uncertain.

The cold weight of the sword in her hands felt surreal as Zoë stood over Anysia; the power dynamics shifted irrevocably in her favor. She looked down at the creature that had caused them so much pain, her emotions a tumultuous mix of fear, anger, and relief. The realization of her actions, of her transformation from the frightened nymph to a defender standing her ground, was overwhelming. As Zoë stood trembling with Anaklusmos aimed at the fallen eidolon, Anysia's form began to convulse unsettlingly. Before Zoë's eyes, the eerie, sickly gray pallor of Anysia's skin shifted back to human creaminess, and her glowing dull gold eyes reverted to their original almond brown. The transformation was disorienting, blurring the line between monster and victim.

Anysia, now seemingly fully human, started to beg and plead, her voice choked with tears. "Please, I was only possessed! I didn't mean to cause any harm," she sobbed, her voice a desperate, piteous wail that clawed at Zoë's resolve.

Perseus, however, remained a steady, dark presence beside Zoë, his stance firm and his gaze unyielding. His void-like eyes swirled with a commanding power that brooked no argument, a silent pressure that weighed heavily on Zoë. Despite the pitiful figure Anysia presented, Perseus's voice, firm and unwavering, cut through the dawn. "Slay it, Zoë. Do not be swayed by illusions. Know of what it hath done."

Zoë's hand holding Anaklusmos trembled as she wrestled with her conscience. Never before had she taken a life in such a deliberate manner outside the blind throes of self-defense or bloodlust. The humanity displayed by Anysia in her pleas tugged painfully at Zoë's heartstrings, making the weight of her decision even more unbearable. "PLEASE, NO! ZOË! MY BABY! I CANNOT LEAVE MY CHILD!"

Yet, as the nymph stood there, the sword wavering in her unsteady grip, a realization slowly dawned upon her. What would she want a hero to do?

Being a hero wasn't just about bravery in battle; it was about making tough decisions that others couldn't—decisions that often bore heavy on one's soul. It was about stepping beyond one's comfort to protect greater ideals and lives. With a heavy heart but a newfound resolve, Zoë knew what she had to do. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Zoë steeled herself and tightened her grip on Anaklusmos.

Anysia, sensing her impending doom, reverted back to her eidolon form in a last-ditch effort to intimidate or perhaps survive. Her form twisted grotesquely as she reverted, her voice rising in a curse.

"Perseus, you FOOL! The Archon will learn of this; she will know of your sacrilege!" she shrieked, her words slicing through the still air.

But before she could continue her diatribe, Zoë acted. With a swift, decisive motion, she swung Anaklusmos with all her might. The celestial bronze blade sang through the air, a glittering arc of finality that ended as suddenly as it had begun—with Anysia's head cleanly severed from her shoulders. The eidolon's curses cut off abruptly, her body crumbling into gold dust that scattered in the night breeze, leaving nothing but the echoing silence of her final threats.

With the immediate threat dissipated with the dispersal of Anysia's remains, a profound stillness settled over the area. Zoë stood, breathing heavily, the reality of what she had just done sinking in. She slowly lowered Anaklusmos, her eyes wide with the gravity of her actions. Perseus watched her quietly, an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, his demeanor visibly softened, the dark, commanding presence he had exuded fading into a gentler, more familiar warmth. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on Zoë's head in a paternal gesture, ruffling her hair slightly.

"I am proud of thee," the god murmured, his voice laced with genuine admiration for her bravery and resolve.

Zoë felt a surge of emotions well up within her, tears threatening to spill over as the gravity of her actions and Perseus's approval washed over her. Yet, she stubbornly fought them back, unwilling to show more vulnerability. Instead, she leaned into Perseus's side, her head resting against his arm as she steadied herself with his support. "I thank thee," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "For saving me, for everything."

Perseus offered her a reassuring smile, his gaze then drifting down to the eidolon's celestial bronze sword that lay beside them. He picked it up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined the hilt more closely. There, etched into the metal, was an insignia that drew his immediate attention. The symbol—a cross with spiraling edges that shimmered faintly against the bronze—was unfamiliar, a curious anomaly that piqued his interest.

"This symbol," Perseus started, turning the blade in his hands to catch the light, "is unknown to me, yet it bears a significance that cannot be overlooked." His tone was thoughtful, a hint of curiosity threading through his words as he contemplated the implications of such a distinctive mark.

The symbol, glowing subtly as if imbued with a light of its own, seemed almost alive, its spiraling edges giving it a dynamic, nearly hypnotic appeal. It wasn't just a mark of craftsmanship but suggested a more profound, possibly arcane significance. "Despite the epochs and all that I have known, this modern world continues to elude me with its mysteries," The primordial continued, his gaze still fixed on the glowing insignia. "This mark is neither of Olympian origin nor of any known earthly craft that I recall from the ages past."

Zoë, drawn by his words and the intensity of his inspection, peered closer at the symbol. The strange, almost otherworldly glow of the insignia seemed to pulse gently as if reacting to their scrutiny. "What does it signify?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur.

Perseus looked up from the blade, meeting Zoë's gaze with a solemnity that reinforced the gravity of their situation. "I know not yet," he admitted, "but forged into the very weapon meant to fade divinity, hints at dark and deep intentions. We must proceed cautiously, for we tread paths woven with shadows and whispers."

"Mayhaps thou should inquire into Prometheus' mind; his foresight may prove reliable," the nymph suggested.

Nodding, Perseus turned his head and scanned the area. He chuckled a bit as the whole situation the two of them had just gone through settled in his mind: bodies, weapons, and the golden dust of monster corpses. The Prince of the Cosmos sat down against the grove of his favorite boulder. There was no fire at his feet as the flame had died.

"To where in my mother's name is Prometheus with that firewood?"

AN

Hey readers!

I hope you all are enjoying how I'm deciding to create the Zoë's personality. We don't see too much of Early Zoë in canon, so I'm taking the liberty to slowly build her into the character that she mostly becomes in the original series. She finally seems to fully trust Perseus!

The next chapter will probably be a bit short because while I could have added it to this chapter, I wanted to give Zoë as much of the spotlight as possible so that her changing from a Hesperide to someone who desires/obtains individual strength is the main focus.

Please leave your thoughts, comments, criticism, and the like for me to review. Thank you!

- ANAKX

Word Count: 4520