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-Seven: The Hunter's Prey
Year 12 – Seventy-Eight Months After the First Sacrifice
The castle had grown quiet.
Not the quiet of peace—the quiet of anticipation. The servants moved through their duties with their eyes down and their mouths shut, sensing that something was coming. The guards stood at their posts with their hands on their weapons, waiting for a threat they could not name. The nobles stayed away, finding excuses to remain at their country estates.
Everyone felt it.
The storm.
The shadow.
The hunger.
And in the center of it all—smiling, eating, praying—was Princess Liora.
She had become something more than a person now.
She was a presence.
A weight.
A shadow that fell over everything and everyone.
The castle was hers.
Not because she ruled it—her father still wore the crown, her mother still sat on the throne. But because everyone in it was afraid of her.
And fear, Liora had learned, was the only power that mattered.
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Liora – The Thirty-Ninth Victim
She chose a man this time.
A merchant from the city, passing through the castle town on his way to the southern markets. His name was Varek—another echo, another coincidence. He was wealthy, well-fed, and arrogant.
He was staying at the inn on Market Street, in the best room, with a bottle of wine and a purse full of gold.
No one would miss him.
Not immediately. His family was in the city, days away. His business partners would assume he had been delayed. By the time anyone thought to look for him, his body would be ash.
He was perfect.
But this time, Liora did something different.
She wanted to play.
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The Inn – Night
Liora entered the inn through the back door, invisible as always.
The whispers guided her. Thirty-eight souls, bound to her, serving her, hungry for more.
He is in room seven, they whispered. He is drunk. He is alone. He is arrogant.
He thinks he is untouchable.
He is wrong.
She climbed the stairs.
She knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" a voice called.
"Someone who wants to make you an offer," she said.
The door opened.
Varek stood in the doorway, his face flushed with wine, his eyes curious.
"You're a child," he said.
"I'm older than I look."
He laughed.
"Come in, then. Let's hear this offer."
She stepped inside.
The room was warm, lit by candles, smelling of wine and leather and wealth.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to a chair.
She sat.
He poured her a glass of wine.
"I don't drink," she said.
"More for me."
He drank.
She watched.
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The Game
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Liora."
"Pretty name. Are you a noble?"
"I'm a princess."
He laughed again.
"Of course you are. And I'm the king."
She smiled.
"You don't believe me."
"I believe you're pretty. I believe you're interesting. I don't believe you're a princess."
She reached into his mind.
...arrogant...
...dismissive...
...thinks he's better than everyone...
...thinks he can have anything he wants...
...anyone...
...anytime...
She smiled.
"Would you like to see my room?" she asked.
His eyebrows rose.
"Your room?"
"In the castle. It's beautiful. Gold everywhere. Silk sheets. A fire that never goes out."
He leaned forward.
"You're serious."
"I'm always serious."
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"All right, Princess. Show me."
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so predictable.
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The Castle – Night
She led him through the dark streets of the lower town.
Varek followed, stumbling slightly, his confidence wavering.
"Where are we going?"
"The castle. I told you."
"It's dark."
"The dark is nothing to be afraid of."
"I'm not afraid."
"Good."
They reached the castle gates.
The guards nodded at Liora.
They did not question her.
They never questioned her.
"This way," she said, leading him through the corridors.
"The castle is beautiful at night," he said.
"Yes."
"Where are we going?"
"My chambers."
He smiled.
"I like the way you think, Princess."
She smiled back.
"You have no idea."
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The Chambers
She led him to her room.
Not the one she used for sleeping—the one she used for playing. A room in the east wing, near the cellar. A room no one else entered.
"Sit," she said.
He sat on the bed.
She closed the door.
The shadows gathered.
"Take off your clothes," she said.
His eyes widened.
"What?"
"You heard me."
He hesitated.
Then he smiled.
"You're full of surprises, Princess."
He took off his shirt.
His boots.
His pants.
He sat on the bed, naked, confident, arrogant.
"Now what?" he asked.
"Now," she said, "you close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Because I want you to."
He closed his eyes.
She reached into his mind.
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The Dream
He was standing in a great hall.
Gold everywhere. Silk everywhere. A throne at the far end.
She was sitting on the throne.
"Come here," she said.
He walked toward her.
"Kneel."
He knelt.
"You wanted me," she said.
"Yes."
"You wanted to possess me."
"Yes."
"You wanted to own me."
"Yes."
She stood up.
She walked toward him.
She placed her hand on his head.
"Now," she said, "I own you."
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The Draining
Liora stood over him, her hand on his chest.
He was in the dream.
He was hers.
She pulled.
He gasped.
His body arched. His hands clenched. His mouth opened.
The shadows drank.
Not just his essence. His arrogance. His confidence. His certainty that he was better than everyone else.
She consumed everything.
Delicious, she thought.
More.
She pulled again.
He cried out.
His body convulsed.
More.
She pulled again.
He went limp.
Empty.
Hollow.
Useless.
She withdrew from his mind.
She looked down at him.
Still breathing. Still alive. But gone.
The arrogant merchant was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
Another name for Finn's list.
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The Disposal
She dragged his body to the cellar.
Not to burn—not yet. To store. The whispers had told her about a new ritual. A ritual that required bodies. Fresh bodies. Bodies that had not been burned.
She laid him on the floor.
The shadows covered him.
Keep him, they whispered. Keep him for later.
For the fortieth.
For the change.
She nodded.
She left the cellar.
She returned to her chamber.
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 Search
Darian and Finn had started their search.
Not openly—that would be dangerous. In secret. At night. In the places where mages were known to gather.
They had found nothing.
Not yet.
But they had heard rumors.
There is a woman in the eastern forest, the rumors said. A witch. A healer. A mage.
She knows things.
She can help.
"We have to find her," Darian said.
"How? We're children. We can't just walk into the forest."
"We can try."
"Try? She'll kill us."
"Maybe. But we have to try."
Finn nodded.
"Tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night."
They shook hands.
Two broken boys.
One desperate plan.
And a monster who was always watching.
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Liora – The Awareness
Liora knew.
The whispers had told her.
Darian is looking for a witch, they said. In the eastern forest. He wants her to help him stop you.
He wants to save them.
He wants to save everyone.
She smiled.
Let him try, she thought.
Let him find his witch.
Let him bring her here.
I will drain her too.
I will drain them all.
She closed her book.
She looked at her reflection.
The girl in the mirror was almost gone.
Something else was looking back.
Something ancient.
Something hungry.
One more, she thought.
One more until forty.
One more until the body changes.
One more until I become something new.
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-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 Forty-Seven