TWO POWERS

MAYA

She began to stay away from me, but Maria was not impressed.

Grandmother no longer stood by the stone fountain in the mornings to give me her quiet, respectful bow. Whenever our paths crossed in the wide corridors or out near the gardens, she would pull her heavy woven shawl tight around her shoulders, turn her eyes toward the ground, and quickly walk in the opposite direction. The warmth that had briefly blossomed between us had vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp wall of maternal protection over her grandchild.

Yet, Maria saw through it all. She stood by the grand pillars, watching Grandmother avoid me, her dark eyes filled with bitter suspicion.

"You are already an enemy the moment you started bowing to her," Maria told Grandmother, her voice dripping with venom as she blocked the old woman’s path in the hallway. "Do not pretend you are on my side now. I brought you here to crush a maid, not to give her royal honors!"

Grandmother didn't reply to Maria's outburst, she simply kept her chin low and moved past her without a word.

Well, I didn't care about them. My heart was far too heavy, far too exhausted to waste energy on their shifting alliances.

I had not set my eyes on Edward for days. The recent attack on the pack was taking him from battles to battles along our eastern and northern borders. Every night, the distant sound of war horns echoed across the mountains, signaling that rogue wolves and shadow traitors were testing our territory's strength. Edward was living on horseback, clad in heavy iron armor, leading the vanguard from dusk until dawn.

With my mate gone and the palace feeling like a hollow, cold tomb filled with snake-like whispers, a heavy cloud of despair settled over my chest. I sat alone in my dark room, holding the ancient leather journal against my lap, staring out the arched window at the bleak autumn sky.

I am beginning to wonder why I returned. It seems there was no good reason.

Why had I survived dying in blood? Why had I walked miles through dust with Mr. Orlando, laid in a dark grave for five days, and endured thirty-six long days of painful spiritual healing? Was it all just to come back to a home where my husband was blackmailed, my place was given to a stranger, and I was forced to clean broken glass like a common servant? What was the point of a reborn soul if all it brought was endless pain?

That same night, a heavy, dark slumber pulled me down into the world of visions.

In my dream, I saw the Alpha tied with heavy, black iron chains.

He was trapped in the middle of a vast, desolate field of jagged black stone under a blood-red sky. Thick rusty chains were wrapped tightly around his broad chest, his arms, and his throat, pinning him to an ancient altar. His heavy battle armor was torn, blood dripped from his brow, and his amber eyes were hazy with agony.

"Maya..." Edward gasped in the dream, his raspy voice straining against the links of iron as he looked up into the dark sky. He was asking for help, his voice filled with raw, desperate pain. "Help me... set me free..."

I ran toward him, my white dress fluttering in the ghostly wind, but as I reached out my hands to grab the glowing iron links, another figure stepped beside me.

It was Clara.

She wasn't wearing her timid servant clothes; she was clad in dark, regal leather, her face fierce, pulling on the heavy chains from the opposite side of the altar. In the vision, Clara and I were pulling against the rusty iron together, yet at the same time, we were shoving each other aside, fighting to be the one who finally broke the lock and released him.

I woke up from the sleep with sweat all over me.

My heart was hammering violently against my ribs like a trapped bird. My chest heaved up and down in the quiet darkness of my bedchamber, my nightgown damp against my skin.

I sat up, burying my face in my trembling hands. That part does not make any sense to me. Clara is an outsider, an innocent girl dragged into this mess by Maria’s gold. Why should she have to be in a battle with me over who saves the Alpha? Was she truly just a helpless breeder, or did her spirit hold some hidden, ancient connection to Edward’s fate that I didn't yet understand?

The answer to my nightmare came sooner than I expected.

Later that afternoon, the heavy iron gates of the palace groaned open, and the sound of armored boots echoed through the cobblestone courtyard.

Then Edward returned from war.

I rushed out onto the second-floor balcony, leaning over the stone railing. Edward stepped off his massive black warhorse, unbuckling his dented chestplate. He was covered in dark mud, sweat, and dried rogue blood, but he was alive. His heavy amber eyes scanned the high windows, and for a fleeting second, his gaze locked onto mine.

A sudden, overwhelming wave of relief washed through my body, and I felt happy and whole.

Seeing him standing on solid ground, hearing his deep voice commanding the guards, instantly dispelled the dark doubts that had been eating away at my spirit. I loved him. Despite the lies, despite the secrets, and despite the black magic choking our home, my soul was tied to his. I had returned to save him, and I was going to fight for him until my last breath.

I bathed quickly, brushing my long dark hair and putting on a clean, soft dress, eager to sit near my husband during the evening meal.

But that same night at the dining hall, my happiness was instantly cut short.

The long mahogany table was set with roasted meat, wine, and warm bread. Edward sat at the head of the table, his face exhausted, his hair damp from his post-battle bath. Maria sat to his left, her posture proud and triumphant.

And then, I noticed Clara.

She walked into the dining hall and took her seat across from me, dressed almost half nude to the dining table.

She was wearing a flimsy, see-through silk gown that barely covered her shoulders. The fabric was cut scandalously low at the front, spilling out over her waist, leaving almost her entire chest completely bare for everyone in the room to see. Clara's face was flushed red with shame, her hands trembling as she adjusted her plate, but she sat there proudly under Maria’s watchful gaze.

And there is Grandmother, sitting at the small side table reserved for elders, the very woman who had assured me she does not support evil! She sat right there, quietly sipping her soup, ignoring the disgusting display her grandchild was putting on for the Alpha.

Edward had his eyes on her boobs, as they were all showing.

My blood ran cold. Edward was tired, his mind weakened by days of brutal warfare, his wolf instincts raw and primal. His amber eyes lingered heavily on Clara's exposed skin, his chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths as he stared at her across the table. He didn't turn his head away. He didn't reprimand her. He just stared, completely mesmerized by the temptation Maria had laid right in front of him.

A sharp, unbearable jealousy tore through my heart, turning into a cold, scorching fire.

Dinner passed in a tense, suffocating silence. The moment the servants cleared the silver platters, Maria set her wine goblet down with a soft clatter against the wood.

"My Lord Edward," Maria spoke up, her voice artificially sweet as she looked at her husband. "You have fought hard at the border, and your room must be warm and heavy with smoke from the wall torches."

She turned her head, looking directly at Clara with a sharp, commanding nod.

"Clara," Maria said openly, her voice echoing clearly across the quiet dining hall. "Go to Edward's room and raise the curtain for fresh air to get into the room."

My breath hitched violently in my throat. My hands clenched so tightly under the table that my fingernails bit into my palms.

The room is fully air-conditioned!

The Alpha's private suite was equipped with modern cooling vents and enchanted stone runes that kept the air permanently crisp and fresh. There was no need to raise any curtains! This was not about fresh air; this was just a plan to get her to sleep with the Alpha! Maria was sending a half-nude girl directly into my husband's private bedchamber while he was exhausted and vulnerable!

Clara slowly stood up from the table, bowing her head. "Yes, Luna Maria," she murmured softly, her silk dress rustling as she turned toward the grand staircase.

No, my soul roared from the deep abyss of my reincarnated bloodline. Not tonight. Not ever!

I pushed my chair back slightly, my hands gripping the edge of the wooden table. I turned my head slowly, locking my gaze onto the massive, golden-framed portrait of Princess Philomena hanging above the grand fireplace at the end of the hall.

I gathered every drop of my rage, my heartbreak, and my ancestral authority, channeling a powerful wave of spiritual energy straight toward the canvas.

And again, I had to use the picture and make her head spin.

I focused the curse directly onto Clara's mind as her foot touched the first step of the staircase. Stop! I commanded the spirits of my past life. Crush her senses! Spin her head!

The golden portrait shivered against the stone wall. An invisible, freezing draft swept through the warm dining room, blowing out the flames of the tall candles.

Clara froze on the stairs, her hand flying to her temple as her body wobbled violently. She let out a small, breathless whimper, her knees buckling beneath her thin silk dress.

But this time, it would not spin too long.

Instead of Clara collapsing onto the floor and screaming in agony as she usually did, the dizzying spell suddenly faltered. The heavy spiritual pressure hitting her brain wavered, weakening until it became nothing more than a mild wobble. Clara blinked heavily, shook her head, and managed to keep her balance on the wooden step!

My eyes widened in utter shock. My breath caught in my throat. Why wasn't the curse working?!

I turned my head sharply, my gaze darting around the room to find the source of the resistance.

Grandmother was also staring at the picture, I noticed.

The old woman was no longer looking down at her soup bowl. She was standing tall beside her chair, her stooped back remarkably straight, her wrinkled hands raised slightly beneath her woven shawl. Her milky, ancient eyes were locked onto the exact same portrait of Princess Philomena, her lips moving rapidly in a silent, ancient chant!

We both stared at the picture.

The air in the grand dining room grew terrifyingly thin, vibrating with two opposing, invisible forces. The canvas on the wall hummed, its painted surface seeming to warp under the immense pressure of two powerful spirits clashing in the dark.

While I was invoking it to spin Clara's head, Grandmother was powering against it!

She was using her own ancestral earth magic, her deep knowledge of ancient runes, and her spiritual connection to shield her grandchild from my attack! She was actively neutralizing the curse of Princess Philomena, absorbing the blow before it could tear through Clara's mind!

Clara took a deep, steadying breath, straightened her shoulders, and continued walking up the stairs toward Edward's room, completely unharmed.

Maria saw Clara move freely up the steps, and a victorious, wicked grin spread across her lips. She looked at Grandmother, then turned her cold eyes toward me, letting out a soft, mocking laugh.

I sat frozen in my chair, my chest heaving up and down, a cold sweat breaking out across my forehead. The realization hit me like a physical blow to the chest, shattering my illusions of an easy victory.

Now I know I have a battle to fight.

I wasn't just facing Maria's political schemes and fake Luna authority anymore. I was facing an ancient, experienced spiritual elder who knew how to block my reincarnated power! Grandmother had chosen her blood over justice, and she was willing to use her ancient magic to protect Clara—even if it meant helping Maria succeed in her evil plans.

I looked across the table at Edward, who was slowly pushing himself up from his chair to follow Clara upstairs, his mind still heavy and dazed.

I gripped the edge of the table, my eyes burning with a dark, unbreakable resolve. The enemy had brought a shield, but I was the reborn soul of a Princess. If Grandmother wanted a spiritual war inside this palace, I was going to give her one—and I would tear down every barrier standing between me and my mate.