The Apocalyptic Queen's Werewolf Journey (Thora and Darius) novel Chapter 1

**Shadows Hearts by Joseph King**
**Chapter 1: A Second Life**

**Thora’s POV:**

“Ugh!”

A sharp jolt of pain radiated through my skull, a relentless throb that felt like a hammer striking an anvil.

It wasn’t just my head; every fiber of my being was screaming in agony, as if I had been torn apart and crudely stitched back together.

But hold on a second. Hadn’t I already obliterated my soulstone, taking those treacherous souls down with me?

Why, then, was I still feeling this excruciating pain?

A rustling sound broke through the haze of my confusion.

Two unfamiliar sets of footsteps approached, crunching leaves underfoot. I felt my heart race, and I instinctively froze, holding my breath as if that could somehow render me invisible.

“Finished,” one voice sneered, dripping with disdain.

“A worthless half-blood without a wolf like her? Falling off a cliff like that—she’s definitely dead. No need to waste time checking.”

The other voice, a slimy tone that made my skin crawl, chimed in, “Tsk! What a shame. She was so pretty. Would’ve been fun to have a little taste before she died.”

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me at the thought. “Boss, maybe while her body’s still warm, we—”

“Shut it. That’s disgusting. I’m heading back to report. You clean up.”

“Got it.”

The first man’s footsteps retreated into the distance, leaving me alone with the remaining rogue.

I felt a sudden jolt as he flipped me over, his coarse hand brushing against my cheek. In that instant, I snapped my eyes open and instinctively seized his throat with a grip fueled by desperation.

His eyes bulged in terror as he stammered, “Y-you’re alive?!”

I frowned, glancing down at my frail arm, a stark reminder of my weakened state.

My strength is feeble… far too feeble.

“B—”

Before he could utter another syllable, I twisted his neck with all the force I could muster.

Crack!

His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless and still.

That single, brutal motion had nearly drained the last vestiges of strength I possessed.

Breathless, I scanned my surroundings.

No blood-soaked battlefield littered with the remnants of war. Just a dark, foreboding forest that seemed to swallow the light.

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And this fragile, battered body was not mine.

What in the world had happened?

She was a half-human, half-werewolf anomaly, her wolf spirit never having awakened. In a society that revered pure bloodlines and championed the survival of the fittest, she was loathed and scorned at every turn.

The only person who ever stood by her side was her grandfather, Marlon Green, the Alpha of the Silverleaf Pack.

Instead of shunning her, Marlon embraced her wholeheartedly. He even proclaimed that once Thora came of age and awakened her wolf spirit, she would ascend as the next Alpha of the pack.

Such a declaration infuriated the family, sealing her fate.

Her younger half-sister, Hazel Green, coveted the Alpha position for herself. In secret, she forged alliances with rogues who had betrayed the werewolves. Together, they lured Thora to a cliff, their intentions cruel and calculated: to let the rogues violate her, stripping her of her right to lead.

But Thora fought back. She refused to yield. Ultimately, she was shoved over the edge, plummeting to her demise.

Just as her consciousness began to fade, she prayed to the Moon Goddess—not for rebirth, but for a powerful soul to take her place. She longed for someone who would avenge her and fulfill the dreams she had never had the chance to live.

That prayer transcended time itself, reaching me—someone who, a thousand years later, also perished from betrayal.

I lifted my head and gazed up at the luminous full moon hanging above me. The sight was breathtaking, a stark contrast to the chaos I had known.

In the apocalypse I had come from, the world was a desolate wasteland, poisoned and shattered.

The moonlight was perpetually dim, and mutant werewolves roamed freely, while I led soldiers in unending battles, day and night.

But here, the moonlight was pure and radiant. The werewolves had not yet been twisted by mutation. Yet, even in this time, the chains of bloodlines and the venomous hatred within families were far more treacherous than any adversary on the battlefield.

If the Moon Goddess truly showed me mercy and granted me this second chance at life, then from this moment forward—I am Thora.

Her enemies will face me head-on.

Her dreams? I will make them a reality!