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-Six: The Voices Multiply
Year 9 – Thirty-Three Months After the First Sacrifice
The voices had changed.
Not just the whispers of the dead—those were still there, still constant, still hungry. New voices. Living voices. The thoughts of the people around her, bleeding into her consciousness like water through cracks in a dam.
Liora had learned to filter them.
Mostly.
But sometimes, when she was tired, or distracted, or hungry for the dark, the thoughts would flood in. A cacophony of fear and desire and secret shames that no one would ever speak aloud.
...I hate her...
...I want him to notice me...
...if I steal just a little, no one will know...
...she's coming...
...she's always coming...
The last thought was Darian's.
She heard it constantly.
He was obsessed with her. Consumed by her. Every waking moment was filled with thoughts of what she was, what she had done, what she might do next.
He's going to break soon, she thought.
One way or another.
And when he breaks—
I will be there.
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Liora – The Thirty-First Victim
She chose a man this time.
A stable hand from the castle. His name was Orin—another echo, another coincidence. He was young, strong, and invisible. He worked in the stables, caring for the horses of the royal family.
No one would miss him.
Not immediately. The stables would still function—there were other stable hands. By the time anyone noticed that Orin had stopped coming, his body would be ash.
He was perfect.
But this time, Liora did something different.
She used her new ability.
She reached into his mind.
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Orin – The Thoughts
...tired...
...so tired...
...can't wait to finish my shift...
...there's a girl in the lower town...
...pretty...
...maybe tonight...
...maybe...
Liora smiled.
Lonely, she thought.
Desperate.
Easy.
She approached him in the stables, late at night, when the other stable hands had gone to bed.
"Orin?"
He looked up. His eyes were tired.
"Your Highness?"
"I need your help. There's something in the old cellar. Something I'm afraid of."
Orin frowned.
"The old cellar? No one goes down there."
"I know. But I heard noises. Scratching. Whispers."
Orin hesitated.
"I don't know—"
"Please. You're the only one I trust."
She widened her eyes. Softened her voice. Let her lower lip tremble.
She reached into his mind.
...she's just a child...
...needs help...
...can't say no to a princess...
...maybe she'll reward me...
...maybe...
He nodded.
"All right, Your Highness. Show me."
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so predictable.
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Orin – The Cellar
The princess led him through the dark corridors of the castle.
Orin had worked in this castle for three years. He knew the stables, the yard, the kitchen. But he had never been inside the castle proper. The corridors were grander than he had imagined, hung with tapestries and lit with torches.
Fancy place, he thought.
Too fancy for the likes of me.
The princess stopped at a door. Old. Iron. Locked.
She produced a key.
"It's down there," she said. "The thing I heard."
Orin looked at the door. Looked at the princess. Looked at the key in her small, pale hand.
"After you," he said.
The princess shook her head.
"I'm scared. You go first. I'll follow."
Orin hesitated.
Then he took the key.
He opened the door.
He walked down the steps.
He did not walk back up.
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The Thirty-First Ritual
Liora waited two hours.
Orin was young, strong. His screams were loud. His pounding was fierce. But he did not know how to break a door or fight in darkness.
By the time she descended the stairs, he was on his knees, praying.
"Please," he said. "I have a mother. She's sick. She needs me."
Liora set down her lantern.
She opened her book.
"Then you shouldn't have followed a stranger into a cellar."
"Please—"
She was faster.
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The Power – Thirty-One
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Thirty-one sacrifices. Thirty-one souls. Thirty-one 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.
Soon, she thought.
Soon.
She released the spell.
The shadows retreated.
She looked at the body.
A stable hand. Young. Strong. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
She smiled in the darkness.
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Darian – The Despair
Darian had stopped sleeping.
The whisper in his head—her whisper—had not returned. But the fear had not left. It lived in his chest now, a cold, heavy presence that never faded.
Thirty-one, he thought.
Thirty-one people.
And no one believes me.
He sat in the library with Finn, staring at the fire.
"She killed again," Finn said.
"I know."
"Orin. The stable hand."
"I know."
"She's not going to stop."
"I know."
"What are we going to do?"
Darian was silent for a long moment.
Then he said, "I don't know."
"We can't just give up."
"Why not? Everyone else has."
"Because someone has to remember."
Darian looked at him.
"Why you?"
"Because no one else will."
They sat in silence.
Two boys.
One monster.
And a vigil that might last forever.
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Liora – The Evening
She sat in her chamber, reading by candlelight.
Thirty-one sacrifices.
Sixty-nine more until the curse.
Sixty-nine more until forever.
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.
Soon.
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, thirty-one 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-Six