now do not misunderstand me // when i call myself a shell // i mean - a used up bullet casing// as in, the aftermath of something lethal // as in, an echo of inflicted evil

CHER DELACROIX WAS ANGRY!

full of boiling hot rage simmering under the flimsy costume that her mortal skin is. She hated everything and nothing. Cher didn't know where her hate started or ended, all she knew was that this hate had taken her innocence and forced her to become a shell of who she used to be. Wasn't she too young? Too young to worry about who she was and what purpose she played in the world?

Her age did little to hinder fate. Fate had her bruised and bloodied at camp half-blood's entrance still fighting for her life with the pitiful dagger she'd fashioned for herself, the satyr assigned with her safety nowhere to be seen, his body still hot and fresh in his grave. The grave she'd dug with her own little eight-year-old hands, the dirt settled under her fingernails still there as an indication.

She was sick of it. So sick of all this bullshit. Sick of the campers that avoided her at all costs, of the satyrs that assume she was the one who killed their brother, of Chiron who looked at her with such pity that it made her want to carve his eyes out and hurl them into the lake.

Mostly, she was sick of the Gods. The wretched immortal beings who thought they could control her life, her power. The horrible beings who wished for her death. Who watched every step she took so they could find something, anything as an excuse to kill her. The gods who looked down their noses at her, who sat there as if they weren't just discussing whether to let her live or not, who dared to look bored or amused at the sight of a ten-year-old little girl trembling at the thought of being killed.

She clenched her fists to try and control her temper, she could not blow up, not in front of them they'd take it out of context and send her to her death. Every time she was present at Olympus, she'd carve moon-shaped dents into her palms.

CHER DELACROIX SWORE ONE DAY, SHE'D BRING EVERYONE TO THEIR KNEES!

She'd carve their black hearts out and burn them, so they'd realise what they'd done. She can't scream at any of them now but one day, when she can, she will scream and oh how magnificent it will be. To scream at everyone who hurt her, scream so loud they go deaf and her throat goes hoarse but she will not stop. She'll scream so hard her heart might come out of her throat. Cher would make them pay, pay for every tear she shed, for every bruise on her soul.

One day, Cher Delacroix would unleash herself unto the world and when she did,

 May the Gods help all those who wronged her.

The question that arises is where exactly does Percy Jackson fit into all this?

Cher is unsure but she knows he is the puzzle piece she has been missing for so long.

IN WHICH!

a girl made from stars carves her destiny and her life intertwines with his.

savannah lee smith . . . CHER DELACROIX

as described . . . PERCY JACKSON

&&&

yandeh sallah , annabeth chase

sydney sweeney, silena beauregard

taissa farmiga, florence wright

louis partridge, atticus boixder

jang wonyoung, drew tanaka

arisha razi, miryam hassan

ozgur ege, ahmet yildiz

everyone else as described!

i. WARNINGS

This story is full of gore, action, mature themes surrounding mental health and strong language. Read at your own risk!

ii. DISCLAIMER

Copyright © 2021 | All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, copied.

I do not own the Percy jackson universe, unfortunately. However, I do own the added plot, additional characters and dialogues.

iii. VISUALS

The graphics shown in this book are created by me unless I say otherwise. Gifs may be found on Pinterest or tumblr. The layout of the book has been created by me with a little inspiration from boneslace! credit her if you use it!