WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Book One: The Unblooded Lamb
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CONTENT WARNING: This series contains explicit sexual violence, human sacrifice, psychological torture, murder of innocent characters (including children and family members), ritualistic killing, and extreme horror. No character is safe. Read at your own risk.
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Chapter Thirty-Four: The Weight of Twenty-Nine
Year 9 – Thirty-One Months After the First Sacrifice
The castle had grown quiet.
Not the quiet of peace—the quiet of fear. The servants no longer sang at their work. The guards no longer laughed at their posts. The nobles no longer shouted in the halls.
Everyone was listening.
Waiting.
Watching.
For what, they did not know. But they could feel it coming. A storm. A shadow. Something dark and inevitable that had been building for months.
Liora felt it too.
But she was not afraid.
She was the storm.
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Liora – The Twenty-Ninth Victim
She chose a man this time.
A tanner from the lower town. His name was Durin. He was young, strong, and alone. His wife had left him. His children had been taken away. He had no one.
He was perfect.
But this time, Liora did something different.
She used the whispers to learn his secrets.
He beats his dog, they whispered. He drinks too much. He owes money to dangerous men.
No one will miss him.
No one will look for him.
He is already dead.
He just doesn't know it yet.
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so useful.
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Durin – The Tannery
The tanner worked late, as he did every night.
There was no one to go home to. No one to care if he came home at all. The tannery was his life now—the stench of chemicals, the feel of wet hide, the endless, mindless labor.
He heard a sound.
Footsteps.
He turned.
A child was standing in the doorway. Small. Pale. Dressed in white.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Liora."
"What do you want?"
"I want to show you something."
Durin frowned.
"What?"
"Follow me."
She turned and walked into the darkness.
Durin hesitated.
Then he followed.
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The Tannery – The Kill
She led him to the back of the tannery, where the vats of chemicals bubbled and steamed.
"There's nothing here," Durin said.
"I know."
He turned.
She was standing behind him, her eyes black, her smile wide.
"What—"
She moved.
Faster than he could follow. Faster than he could react.
Her hand closed around his throat.
"You beat your dog," she said.
"What?"
"You beat your dog. You drink too much. You owe money to dangerous men."
"How do you know—"
"I know everything."
She squeezed.
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The Twenty-Ninth Ritual
She performed the ritual in the tannery, surrounded by vats of chemicals and the smell of death.
The whispers watched.
They had been waiting for this. Hungry for this. The dark demanded blood, and the dark would have it.
She spoke the words.
She made the cuts.
She collected the blood.
And when it was over—
The darkness howled.
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The Power – Twenty-Nine
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Twenty-nine sacrifices. Twenty-nine souls. Twenty-nine streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming part of her.
She raised her hand.
The shadows answered.
They came faster now. More eagerly. They wrapped around her arms, her throat, her face. She could feel them inside her, in her lungs, in her stomach, in her mind.
More, they whispered. We need more.
One more, she thought.
One more until thirty.
One more until the mind expands.
She released the spell.
The shadows retreated.
She looked at the body.
A tanner. Young. Strong. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Disposal
She burned Durin's body in the tannery fireplace.
The fire was hot. The smoke was thick. She worked quickly, efficiently, scattering the ashes before dawn.
No one saw her.
No one ever saw her.
She returned to her chamber as the sun rose, smelling of smoke and blood and darkness.
She washed her face.
She braided her hair.
She chose a white dress.
She practiced her smile.
Eyes wide. Innocence.
Mouth soft. Gentleness.
Head tilted. Curiosity.
Perfect, she thought.
She went down to breakfast.
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Darian – The Journal
Darian added another entry to his journal.
Twenty-ninth victim. Durin. Tanner. Disappeared last night.
Body not found.
Cause of death unknown.
Suspect: Princess Liora.
One more and she reaches thirty.
One more and she becomes more powerful.
We are running out of time.
He hid the journal beneath the loose stone.
He went down to breakfast.
His sister was already there, smiling, eating porridge.
"Good morning, Darian," she said.
"Good morning, Liora," he said.
Their eyes met.
For a moment—just a moment—he saw something in her gaze.
Not recognition.
Not acknowledgment.
Anticipation.
She looked away.
She ate her porridge.
She smiled at their mother.
But Darian did not stop watching.
He never stopped watching.
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Finn – The List
Finn added another name to the list in his head.
Durin. Tanner. Twenty-nine.
He recited the list every night before bed, a dark litany that kept the nightmares at bay.
Twenty-nine names.
Twenty-nine faces.
Twenty-nine souls.
One more, he thought.
One more and she reaches thirty.
One more and she becomes more powerful.
We are running out of time.
He lay in his corner, staring at the darkness.
He did not sleep.
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The Vigil Continues
The castle slept.
The guards dozed at their posts. The servants dreamed in their narrow beds. The nobles snored in their silk sheets.
But three people did not sleep.
Darian lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day's observations in his mind.
Finn lay in his corner, staring at the darkness, reciting the list of names like a prayer.
And Liora—
Liora sat in her chamber, reading by candlelight, the shadows dancing around her like living things.
Twenty-nine, she thought.
Seventy-one more until the curse.
Seventy-one more until forever.
But first—
Thirty.
The expansion of the mind.
The beginning of omniscience.
She closed the book.
She looked at her reflection.
The girl in the mirror looked back.
But the girl was fading.
Something else was taking her place.
Something older.
Something hungrier.
Soon, she thought.
Tomorrow.
Thirty.
She smiled.
The darkness smiled with her.
And somewhere in the depths of the castle, in a cellar that no one visited and no one remembered, twenty-nine souls whispered her name.
Liora.
Liora.
Liora.
She heard them.
She always heard them.
They were hers now.
Forever.
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End of Chapter Thirty-Four