DEAD SOIL

MAYA

Two days seemed to pass far too fast. Part of me wanted time to slow down because I was genuinely terrified of going back to that eerie cemetery all alone. But at the same time, I wanted time to fly as fast as possible so I could finally learn how to fix my Alpha's blindness and paralysis. I truly believed in my heart that if I could just figure out how to work as a wolf with these newfound supernatural powers, total victory over Maria would already be mine.

Maria, of course, noticed that I was always withdrawn and quiet ever since we got back from the grave. But as expected, she didn't care about my feelings or my mental state at all. To her, I was just a toy—a pretty puppet she could use whenever she felt lonely or needy.

That second night, as we lay in her large bed under the dim candlelight, she pulled my face close to hers and run her fingers down my waist.

"You never get wet anymore," Maria complained, her voice carrying a sharp, demanding edge. "I love that wet, dripping pussy, Maya. What is wrong with you?"

I said nothing. I kept my mouth shut and simply ignored her complaint, pushing my deep disgust straight down into my gut. I reached down between her legs and fingered her own pussy just as she wanted, giving her exactly what her body demanded.

Like always, she lost control within seconds, her legs flying up into the air as she arched her back against the soft mattress.

"Eat me," she ordered harshly, gripping my hair with both hands.

I hated it when she used such demeaning, bossy words with me. It made my blood boil with pure hatred, but at the moment, I had no choice but to do as she said. I had to keep playing the obedient girl until my power was fully awakened.

I leaned down between her open thighs and ate her pussy just the way she wanted. I bit gently on her clitoris, rolled my tongue tightly around her sensitive entrance, and reached up to press and pinch her firm nipples in rhythm with my mouth. Maria gasped loudly, her body shaking as waves of intense pleasure washed over her.

"I will never let you go, sweet girl," she moaned out in the heat of her wild pleasure, her fingers tangled tightly in my hair. "You belong to me now."

That statement was her business, not mine. She could dream all she wanted, but I knew the truth, I would still strike her down when the moment was right. It was all just a matter of time.

The morning for my private visit to the graveside finally arrived. The sky was still a pale, misty gray when I woke up before dawn.

I crept quietly into Edward's room first. I changed his heavy bandages, smoothed down his soft hair, and whispered a quiet prayer over his sleeping form. After preparing my Alpha for the day, I slipped out of the palace through the back servant doors. I did not let a single soul know where I was going. I just left as early as possible while the entire pack house was still fast asleep.

Once I cleared the outer boundary guards, I shed my human clothes, hiding them beneath a thick oak bush, and shifted into my wolf form. The transformation was smooth and painless, my bones shifting effortlessly. Running through the dense, foggy woods on four paws felt liberating. The cool morning wind rushed against my fur, temporarily washing away the lingering smell of Maria's perfume and the dirtiness I felt inside.

When I arrived at the ancient cemetery, the rusty iron gates were standing half-open. I shifted back into my human form behind the stone wall, pulled on my dark cloak, and stepped quietly into the graveyard.

Mr. Orlando was sitting on a low stone bench near his small wooden hut, holding a steaming mug of tea. He was completely all alone. The fog hung low over the white tombstones, and the dead silence of the place felt heavy, almost suffocating.

I walked over to him, my boots crunching softly on the wet gravel. I looked around the desolate grounds, shivering slightly from the creepy atmosphere.

"How do you do it all alone?" I asked softly after he motioned for me to sit down beside him on the cold stone bench. "How can you stay in a place of the dead like this without getting terrified?"

The old man took a slow sip of his tea, his clouded eyes looking out over the endless rows of graves.

"All those guards you met the other day are my children," Mr. Orlando explained in his dry, raspy voice. "They only visit from time to time to bring supplies or help with heavy lifting. I work here all alone, day in and day out."

I stared at him in utter disbelief. I had never been so shocked in my life. Living completely isolated among hundreds of buried corpses required a level of bravery—or madness—that I couldn't even fathom.

Mr. Orlando turned his head slowly toward me and set his mug down on the bench. He turned his weathered, calloused hands palm-up and looked directly into my eyes.

"Bring out your palms," he commanded quietly.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs, and extended both of my shaking hands toward him. Mr. Orlando took my wrists in his dry, rough grip. He turned my hands over, tracing the deep lines carved into my skin with his long thumb.

Then, he went completely silent.

He stared intently at my open palms for about one full hour. The world around us seemed to freeze. The wind stopped blowing, the birds in the surrounding trees fell silent, and the only sound left in the universe was the heavy, rhythmic sound of my own breathing. For that entire hour, Mr. Orlando spoke no words at all. He didn't move an inch, his clouded eyes fixated entirely on the lines of my hands as if he were reading a hidden book written in my very flesh.

My legs grew stiff, and my anxiety spiked with every passing minute of silence. I wondered if he was testing me, or if he was seeing the dark secrets of my reincarnated soul.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the old man let out a long, heavy exhale that misted in the cold air. He slowly released my wrists and looked up into my face, his expression deeply solemn and filled with an ancient, terrifying authority.

Then, he spoke.

"You carry the soul of the dead Princess Philomena," Mr. Orlando said, his low voice echoing clearly through the quiet graveyard. "The lines on your left hand show the life you lost to treachery, and the lines on your right hand show the raw, untamed magic you brought back from the spirit realm. But hear me clearly, child—the telekinesis you feel right now is only a tiny fraction of what sleeps inside your blood."

I held my breath, leaning in closer. "How do I awaken the rest? How do I use it to heal my Alpha?"

Mr. Orlando leaned forward, his clouded eyes locking onto mine with piercing intensity.

"Your wolf and your human mind are fighting each other for control of this magic," he revealed, pointing a withered finger at my chest. "When you read that ancient book, you opened a doorway, but your wolf form is the true vessel for this power. Maria wishes to chain your old tomb in five days because she senses a leak of spiritual energy. She believes chaining the bones will destroy the spirit. But if you stand over your own grave in your wolf form before she returns, and touch the sacred soil with your bare paws, you will absorb every ounce of the ancient power left behind in your former body."

A chill ran down my spine as his words sank in.

"If you do that," Mr. Orlando continued, his voice dropping to a low, ominous whisper, "your wolf will gain the power of the Moon Goddess itself. You will not only break the paralysis holding Alpha Edward, but your eyes will become a weapon capable of stripping Maria of her Luna status forever. But you must be brave, Philomena. The grave side will test your spirit, and the dead will speak to you when you touch that soil."