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 Forty-One: The Quiet Year
Year 10 – Forty-Eight Months After the First Sacrifice
The castle had settled into a new normal.
Not peace—there was no peace here, not anymore. But routine. The servants went about their duties with their eyes down and their mouths shut. The guards stood at their posts with their hands on their weapons. The nobles stayed away, finding excuses to remain at their country estates.
And Liora?
Liora waited.
The hunger was constant now, a low thrum beneath her skin that never faded. Thirty-five souls burned inside her, feeding the dark, making her stronger with each passing day.
But she had learned patience.
The old texts had taught her that rushing would destroy her. The dark was powerful, but it was also greedy. If she fed it too quickly, it would consume her. She would become a vessel, not a master.
And vessels break.
So she waited.
She watched.
She planned.
And when the time was right—
She would strike again.
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Liora – The Thirty-Sixth Victim
She chose a woman this time.
A weaver from the lower town. Her name was Sera—another echo, another coincidence. She was young, skilled, and invisible. She worked alone in a small shop, weaving cloth for the castle servants.
No one would miss her.
Not immediately. The cloth would still be woven—there were other weavers. By the time anyone noticed that Sera had stopped coming, her body would be ash.
She was perfect.
But this time, Liora did something different.
She practiced her new abilities.
The whispers of her victims had grown stronger. They could see farther now, hear more clearly, report back more quickly. She sent them to watch Sera for a week.
She is lonely, they reported. She has no family. No friends. No one who would notice if she vanished.
She is vulnerable.
She is ready.
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so useful.
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Sera – The Shop
The weaver worked late, as she did every night.
There was cloth to weave for the castle. Cloth for the nobles. Cloth for the servants who would wear it without ever knowing who had made it.
She heard a sound.
Footsteps.
She turned.
A child was standing in the doorway. Small. Pale. Dressed in white.
"Your Highness?"
"Hello, Sera."
"What are you doing here so late?"
"I came to see you."
Sera frowned.
"Me?"
"You work so hard. No one appreciates you."
Sera's frown deepened.
"Your Highness, I don't understand—"
"You don't need to understand."
The princess moved.
Faster than Sera could follow. Faster than she could react.
Her hand closed around the weaver's wrist.
"Please—"
"Shh."
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The Thirty-Sixth Ritual
She performed the ritual in the shop, surrounded by looms and half-finished cloth.
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 hummed.
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The Power – Thirty-Six
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Thirty-six sacrifices. Thirty-six souls. Thirty-six 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 weaver. Young. Skilled. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
She smiled in the darkness.
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Darian – The Silence
Darian had not spoken in months.
He sat in his room, staring at the wall, not moving. The servants brought him food. He did not eat it. His mother came to visit. He did not look at her. His father came to shout at him. He did not flinch.
He was not alive.
He was not dead.
He was just there.
Thirty-six, he thought.
Thirty-six people.
And I couldn't stop her.
I couldn't stop any of them.
He closed his eyes.
He thought about the weaver. The woman he had never met. The woman who had died anyway.
He thought about the princess's eyes. Gray. Empty. Hungry.
He thought about her words.
"Living is worse."
She was right.
Living was worse.
He opened his eyes.
He stared at the wall.
He did not sleep.
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Finn – The List
Finn added another name to the list in his head.
Sera. Weaver. Thirty-six.
He recited the list every night before bed, a dark litany that kept the nightmares at bay.
Thirty-six names.
Thirty-six faces.
Thirty-six souls.
Thirty-six, he thought.
She's killed thirty-six people.
And no one is doing anything.
He lay in his corner, staring at the darkness.
He did not sleep.
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The Castle – The Fear
The fear had spread.
Not like a fire—fires were quick, bright, visible. Like a disease. Slow. Invisible. Inevitable.
The servants no longer walked alone after dark.
The guards no longer patrolled the east wing.
The nobles no longer visited at all.
Everyone knew.
Not what she was—not exactly. But they knew she was dangerous. They knew to stay away. They knew to keep their mouths shut and their eyes down and their children close.
And Liora?
Liora watched.
And smiled.
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Liora – The Evening
She sat in her chamber, reading by candlelight.
Thirty-six sacrifices.
Sixty-four more until the curse.
Sixty-four 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.
Darian is gone, she thought.
Finn is broken.
The castle is mine.
Soon, the world will be mine.
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-six 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 Forty-One