Estella, The New Nightingale

I love being a half-blood.

I love the adventure, the chase, and the rush of triumph after a battle won.
Before I was even ten, I could wield a sword, nock an arrow, and make friends who felt like family.
There was magic. Laughter. Campfires and starlight.
Wishes whispered into the night air.

But there's a darker side to it all.

Death.

It follows me like a shadow-quiet and patient.
It sneaks up on the ones I love, takes them without warning.
The gods, the monsters... they don't play fair.
And no matter how fast you run, death always catches up.

My name is Estella. That's all I know.
No middle name. No last name.
Just Estella.

That's what they call me, anyway.

When I woke up at Camp Half-Blood, I was nine.
I had nothing but the clothes on my back, a black galaxy-dagger, and a necklace: a pendant shaped like a star fused with a sun, a diamond glinting at the center.

I remember flashes-
Golden light. Sunshine day.
A voice-calm, commanding.
A hand reaching for mine in the dark.
We were in a place I can't quite picture, full of life and colors. There was shouting. Adventure. A place I think I felt home.
I remember clutching someone's hand-warm, sticky, trembling.
A voice calling my name. The fear in it. The way it broke.

Then-
The stars.
A sky too big to hold.
The crash of waves. The weight of the ocean breeze.
The coldness of night. The warmth of a hand in mine.

I turned my head toward the person.

And then-nothing.

That was the last time I ever saw anything.