Child of the first dawn

Most demigods are born of Olympians who meddle in mortal lives. Percy Jackson was not.
Before the Titans, before Olympus rose from the bones of the earth, there were three: Ouranos, the untouchable Sky; Erebus, the shadow between worlds; and Pontus, the fathomless Deep. They shaped the edges of reality itself, far removed from mortal affairs. They did not love. They did not create for beauty's sake. They simply were.

Until Hephaestus got an idea.

In the modern age, the god of the forge had grown tired of his own reflection-scarred, bent, and forever underestimated. So he built himself a body unlike any he'd worn before: elegant, flawless, and female. It was a form for invention, for exploration... and, though he'd never admit it, for curiosity about the oldest forces in existence.

One meeting led to another. A spark met the void. The tides answered the wind. And from an impossible union of sky, shadow, sea, and crafted flame, a child was born.

Born in the silence between waves.
Born in the darkness before dawn.
Born with the sky in his eyes, the ocean in his breath, and shadows that curled under his skin like living things.

His name was Perseus Jackson.
And the world was not ready for him.