CHANGING FACES

MAYA

We got home, and I spent the next two hours staring at the book, yet not one single word could I understand.

I sat near the window in the master suite, the heavy leather-bound tome resting open on my lap. The faded black ink of the Arabic script seemed to dance under the afternoon sunlight, but no matter how hard I squinted or tried to quiet my mind, it remained complete gibberish to me. The Black Magic Seer had told me to read it with my spiritual eyes, but right now, my eyes were just human, tired, and frustrated.

While I was sitting there, Maria walked into our room without even knocking. She glanced around the spacious suite before her eyes landed on me.

"How did the journey go?" she asked, her voice carrying a fake lightness, though her eyes were sharp, hunting for any detail she could use. "What did the seer say about Edward's sight?"

I ignored her completely. I didn't say a single word, keeping my gaze locked on the pages in front of me because there was simply nothing to tell her. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing Edward stormed out in a rage, nor was I going to reveal what the seer said about the woman who had defeated us in our past life.

Maria lingered in the doorway for a moment, her lips twisting into a tight, bitter line at my silence, before she finally turned on her heel and strutted out.

Despite my frustration, somehow I believed with all my heart that the book held the real answers to my situation. It carried the secret to my past lives, my powers, and Edward's blindness. But how to understand the book was the real issue holding me back.

Everything remained the same in the pack over the next two to three weeks.

The elders continued to glare at me whenever I guided blind Edward through the halls, the maids still whispered behind my back, and Edward spent his days trying to manage pack affairs by ear, relying on his generals to read him reports.

Meanwhile, my due date was fast approaching. My belly had grown so heavy and round that every step took immense effort, and the baby inside me kicked constantly, as if eager to break free into the world.

During these weeks, Maria still came to play with my pussy, and then made me play with hers.

It had become a quiet, unwritten routine between us whenever Edward was away with his council. She would slip into the room, locking the door behind her, her eyes dark with that strange mixture of desperation and lust. She would drop to her knees, bury her face between my thighs, and lick me until I was breathlessly gasping into the pillows. Afterward, she would strip off her silk gown, pull my hand down between her legs, and demand that I finger her until she climaxed over and over.

I cannot tell if I really enjoy playing with her vagina or not, but I am just doing it. It was like a game of survival and control. Even while we engaged in those wet, intimate acts, the hierarchy between us remained twisted. She still orders me around and treats me like a maid when others are watching, barking instructions about my clothes or my pregnancy diet. But deep down, still, she is scared of me somehow. I can feel the subtle tremor in her hands whenever she touches my skin, the way she glances nervously at the shadows in the room as if expecting my reincarnated spirit to strike her dead.

One evening, after we had both settled down on the edge of the bed, Maria sat up and wiped a strand of damp hair from her forehead. She looked at me with a unusually serious expression.

"I need you to contact your relatives," Maria said suddenly, her tone sharp and demanding. "Ask them if they know one Philomena—a princess that married Edward but died years ago."

I frowned, lifting my head from the pillow to stare at her. "Why do you need to know if she is connected to me?"

Maria swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward the hallway as if the walls themselves were listening.

"Because the picture on the wall now bears your face," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. "And sometimes... it shifts back to her face."

My heart took a sharp step back against my ribs. "When did you notice this?" I asked, sitting up slowly, holding my heavy bump.

"Just about two or three weeks ago," Maria replied, her dark eyes locking onto mine with intense suspicion. "That exact same day you visited the Black Magic Seer."

A sudden realization struck me like a bolt of lightning, though I kept my face completely emotionless.

It means the day I brought the book into the house, I said in my mind, my pulse quickening. Maybe complete staring at the book has an effect already.

The ancient energy tied to the pages was spilling out into the palace whether I could consciously read the text or not. The book was awakening the soul of Philomena inside me, forcing my past self to bleed through the canvas on the wall, haunting the very woman who had taken her life.