The Lost Queen

Chapter One

Daya's P.O.V.

"WAKE UP, BITCH!"

Freezing cold water shocks me awake, soaking my skin and making me gasp for air. My father stands over me, scowling, his face an angry shade of red as he grips the empty bucket.

This is how every morning begins for me—harsh words, harsh treatment. But I'm used to it. My name is Daya Crystal Grace, and I'm 17 years old.

When I was born, my parents said I was the light of their lives. They named me Daya because it was the best "day-a" of their lives. Crystal became my middle name because of my bright, crystal-blue eyes. But everything changed after my fifth birthday.

That was the day I first shifted.

Most werewolves shift between the ages of 12 and 14. But I was different, and my parents couldn't accept that. My once-loving family became distant and cruel. Now, the pack calls me ugly, disgusting, and worse.

I don't look like my parents, which only fuels their disdain. My mother, Charlie Grace, has blonde hair and hazel eyes. My father, Josh Grace, has jet-black hair and piercing green eyes. I have none of their features. Instead, I have long brunette hair, pale skin from rarely seeing the sun, and a small frame. I'm 5'4", slender but with noticeable curves. But none of that matters here.

The mirror in my room has become my worst enemy. I can't even stand to look at myself anymore.

The day I shifted should have been a milestone. Instead, it was the worst day of my life.

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It started with a burning sensation all over my body.

I was sitting in my parents' room, playing with my mom, when the pain hit me. At five years old, I didn't understand what was happening.

"Mommy!" I screamed, clutching her tightly as tears streamed down my face.

"Shhh, calm down, baby. Josh!" my mother yelled for my father, her voice trembling.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. I couldn't focus on anything but the unbearable pain radiating through my chest. My heart raced as though it might explode. My screams grew louder as the bones in my body began to crack and shift.

My father scooped me into his arms and rushed outside, my mother trailing behind us. I barely registered being placed on the cool forest floor. My cries echoed through the trees as my body continued to contort, fur sprouting from my skin.

And then, with one final scream, it was over.

When I opened my eyes, I saw soft, white fur covering my body. I tried to stand, but my legs wobbled, and I fell. My mother hesitated before approaching me. Slowly, she reached out and ran her hand over my head. My wolf purred under her touch, and I leaned into her, closing my eyes.

Then, I heard a voice in my head.

"Hello! I'm Cora!"

Startled, I thought back cautiously, "Who are you?"

"I'm your wolf, silly," she said, her voice light and playful.

Excitement replaced my fear. "Cool! So you're, like, in my head?!"

Before Cora could respond, my mother interrupted. "Daya, shift back. Think about being human again."

I focused on my human form—standing on two feet, with hands instead of paws. It worked, but the process was still painful. When I looked up, I expected relief or pride on my parents' faces. Instead, I saw disappointment.