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 Fifty-Six: The Search for Power
Year 13 – One Hundred Six Months After the First Sacrifice
The castle had settled into a new rhythm.
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 sent their gifts and their letters and their desperate pleas for favor.
And Liora?
Liora waited.
Forty-five sacrifices.
Twenty-two more until the curse.
If she followed the faster way.
If she consumed the powerful.
If she drained the strong.
If she took the innocent.
Twenty-two more.
But she needed to find the powerful first. The mages. The nobles. The ones whose souls were worth more than one.
The whispers helped.
There is a mage in the eastern forest, they said. An old woman. A witch. She has power.
Her soul is worth three.
She is vulnerable.
She is ready.
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so useful.
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The Eastern Forest – Night
Liora walked through the forest, invisible as always.
The whispers guided her. Forty-five souls, bound to her, serving her, hungry for more.
She is close, they said. Her cottage is ahead. She is inside. She is alone.
She is perfect.
Liora found the cottage.
It was small, made of stone and wood, surrounded by herbs and candles and the smell of old magic.
She knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" a voice called.
"Someone who wants to make you an offer."
The door opened.
An old woman stood in the doorway. Wrinkled. Bent. But her eyes were sharp.
"You're the princess," she said.
"Yes."
"I've heard about you."
"Good things, I hope."
The old woman laughed.
"No. Not good things."
Liora smiled.
"May I come in?"
The old woman hesitated.
Then she stepped aside.
"Come in."
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The Witch's Cottage
Liora stepped inside.
The cottage was warm, lit by candles, smelling of sage and something darker.
"Sit," the witch said.
Liora sat.
"You're not here to make an offer," the witch said.
"No?"
"No. You're here to kill me."
Liora tilted her head.
"What makes you say that?"
"I can see it. In your eyes. In your aura. You're not human anymore."
Liora smiled.
"You're perceptive."
"I'm old. I've seen many things. I've never seen anything like you."
"You should be afraid."
"I am."
"Good."
Liora stood up.
The witch stood up.
"You won't succeed," the witch said.
"I always succeed."
"This is my home. My place of power. You can't—"
Liora moved.
Faster than the witch could follow. Faster than she could react.
Her hand closed around the witch's throat.
"I can," she said. "And I will."
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The Draining – The Witch
The witch tried to resist.
She had spent decades studying the mind, learning to protect it from intrusion. But Liora was stronger than anyone she had ever encountered.
She pushed past the witch's defenses.
She found her memories.
...the old ways...
...the dark arts...
...the rituals...
...the sacrifices...
...the power...
...the curse ...
...she knows...
...she wants it...
...she will stop at nothing...
...nothing...
Liora pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The knowledge.
The secrets.
The power.
The witch gasped.
Her body convulsed.
Her eyes rolled back.
She pulled again.
The witch went limp.
She withdrew from her mind.
She looked down at the body.
Still breathing. Still alive. But empty.
The knowledge was hers now.
All of it.
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The Forty-Sixth Ritual
She dragged the witch's body to the center of the cottage.
Not the cellar—the cottage itself was a place of power. The old texts had said that rituals performed in places of power were stronger, more potent, more effective.
She laid the body on the floor.
She spoke the words.
She made the cuts.
She collected the blood.
And when it was over—
The darkness screamed.
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The Power – Forty-Six
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Forty-six sacrifices. Forty-six souls. Forty-six streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming part of her.
But this soul was different.
Stronger.
Worth three.
She could feel it. The witch's essence was thicker, richer, more potent than the others.
Three, she thought.
Three in one.
Nineteen more.
If I take another mage—
Sixteen.
If I take a noble—
Fourteen.
If I take a king—
Nine.
If I take a child—
Four.
If I take two children—
None.
She released the spell.
The shadows retreated.
She looked at the body.
A witch. Old. Powerful. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Disposal
She burned the witch's body in the cottage's 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 walked back to the castle 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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Finn – The List
Finn added another name to the list in his head.
The witch. Mage. Forty-six.
He recited the list every night before bed.
Forty-six names.
Forty-six faces.
Forty-six souls.
Forty-six, he thought.
She's killed forty-six people.
She's getting stronger.
Faster.
More dangerous.
No one is safe.
No one.
He lay in his corner, staring at the darkness.
He did not sleep.
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The Castle – The Fear
The fear had grown.
Not like a fire—fires were quick, bright, visible. Like a disease. Slow. Invisible. Inevitable.
The servants no longer spoke to each other.
The guards no longer looked at each other.
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.
Forty-six sacrifices.
Nineteen more until the curse.
If she followed the faster way.
If she consumed the powerful.
If she drained the strong.
If she took the innocent.
Nineteen more.
She closed the book.
She looked at her reflection.
The girl in the mirror was gone.
Something else was looking back.
Something ancient.
Something hungry.
The witch's knowledge will help me, she thought.
I know where to find the others now.
The mages.
The nobles.
The powerful.
Nineteen more.
And then—
Then the curse.
Then forever.
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, forty-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 Fifty-Six