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-Seven: The Hunt Intensifies
Year 13 – One Hundred Eight Months After the First Sacrifice
The witch's knowledge had opened doors.
Not physical doors—metaphorical ones. Liora now knew where to find the powerful. The mages who had hidden themselves in remote corners of the kingdom. The nobles who had retreated to their country estates. The warriors who had retired to quiet villages, hoping to live out their days in peace.
They were all prey now.
And she was the hunter.
The whispers guided her. Forty-six souls, bound to her, serving her, hungry for more.
There is a mage in the northern hills, they said. A man. Old. Powerful. His soul is worth three.
There is a noble in the western valley. A woman. Wealthy. Connected. Her soul is worth two.
There is a warrior in the southern marshes. A man. Strong. Feared. His soul is worth three.
There are others.
Many others.
We will find them.
We will bring them to you.
You will consume them.
You will become more.
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so useful.
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The Northern Hills – Night
Liora traveled north, invisible as always.
The whispers guided her. Forty-six souls, bound to her, serving her, hungry for more.
He is close, they said. His tower is ahead. He is inside. He is alone.
He is perfect.
She found the tower.
It was old, made of gray stone, surrounded by mist and the smell of damp earth.
She climbed the stairs.
She knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" a voice called.
"Someone who wants to make you an offer."
The door opened.
An old man stood in the doorway. White-bearded. Blue-eyed. His face was lined with age, but his body was strong.
"You're the princess," he said.
"Yes."
"I've heard about you."
"Good things, I hope."
He laughed.
"No. Not good things."
Liora smiled.
"May I come in?"
He hesitated.
Then he stepped aside.
"Come in."
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The Mage's Tower
Liora stepped inside.
The tower was warm, lit by candles, smelling of old books and older magic.
"Sit," the mage said.
Liora sat.
"You're not here to make an offer," he said.
"No?"
"No. You're here to kill me."
Liora tilted her head.
"What makes you say that?"
"I can feel it. The darkness in you. It's stronger than anything I've ever encountered."
"You should be afraid."
"I am."
"Good."
She stood up.
He stood up.
"You won't succeed," he said.
"I always succeed."
"This is my home. My place of power. You can't—"
Liora moved.
Faster than he could follow. Faster than he could react.
Her hand closed around his throat.
"I can," she said. "And I will."
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The Draining – The Mage
The mage tried to resist.
He had spent a lifetime studying the mind, learning to protect it from intrusion. But Liora was stronger than anyone he had ever encountered.
She pushed past his defenses.
She found his 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...
...the others...
...the mages in the south...
...the nobles in the east...
...the warriors in the west...
...they are all in danger...
...she will find them...
...she will consume them...
...all of them...
Liora pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The knowledge.
The secrets.
The power.
The mage gasped.
His body convulsed.
His eyes rolled back.
She pulled again.
He went limp.
She withdrew from his 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-Seventh Ritual
She performed the ritual in the tower, surrounded by candles and old books.
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 – Forty-Seven
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Forty-seven sacrifices. Forty-seven souls. Forty-seven 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 mage's essence was thicker, richer, more potent than the others.
Three, she thought.
Three in one.
Sixteen more.
If I take another mage—
Thirteen.
If I take a noble—
Eleven.
If I take a warrior—
Eight.
If I take a king—
Three.
If I take a child—
None.
She released the spell.
The shadows retreated.
She looked at the body.
A mage. 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 mage's body in the tower'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 mage. Northern hills. Forty-seven.
He recited the list every night before bed.
Forty-seven names.
Forty-seven faces.
Forty-seven souls.
Forty-seven, he thought.
She's killed forty-seven 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 Western Valley – The Next Night
Liora traveled west, invisible as always.
The whispers guided her.
She is close, they said. Her estate is ahead. She is inside. She is alone.
She is perfect.
She found the estate.
It was large, made of white stone, surrounded by gardens and the smell of flowers.
She climbed the wall.
She slipped through the window.
A woman was sitting by the fire, reading a book.
She looked up.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Liora."
"The princess?"
"Yes."
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you."
The woman frowned.
"Me?"
"Your soul is worth two."
"What?"
Liora moved.
Faster than the woman could follow. Faster than she could react.
Her hand closed around the noble's throat.
"Please—"
"Shh."
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The Forty-Eighth Ritual
She performed the ritual in the noble's chamber, surrounded by silk and gold.
The whispers watched.
She spoke the words.
She made the cuts.
She collected the blood.
And when it was over—
The darkness purred.
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The Power – Forty-Eight
Forty-eight sacrifices.
But this soul was different.
Stronger.
Worth two.
Two in one.
Fourteen more.
If I take another noble—
Twelve.
If I take a mage—
Nine.
If I take a warrior—
Six.
If I take a king—
One.
If I take a child—
None.
She released the spell.
The shadows retreated.
She looked at the body.
A noble. Wealthy. Connected. 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 noble's body in the estate'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 returned to the castle as the sun rose.
She washed her face.
She braided her hair.
She chose a white dress.
She practiced her smile.
Perfect, she thought.
She went down to breakfast.
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Liora – The Evening
She sat in her chamber, reading by candlelight.
Forty-eight sacrifices.
Fourteen 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.
Fourteen 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.
Fourteen more, she thought.
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-eight 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-Seven