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-Eight: The Southern Marshes
Year 13 – One Hundred Ten Months After the First Sacrifice
The hunt had become a rhythm.
Travel. Find. Kill. Burn. Return. Repeat.
Liora had become efficient. The whispers guided her to the powerful, the strong, the ones whose souls were worth more than one. She moved through the kingdom like a shadow, unseen and unstoppable.
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.
The whispers had told her about a warrior in the southern marshes. A man. Strong. Feared. His soul was worth three.
He was retired now, living in a small hut, surrounded by the bones of his enemies. He had killed more men than she had. He was dangerous.
He was perfect.
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The Southern Marshes – Night
Liora traveled south, invisible as always.
The whispers guided her. Forty-eight souls, bound to her, serving her, hungry for more.
He is close, they said. His hut is ahead. He is inside. He is alone.
He is perfect.
She found the hut.
It was small, made of wood and mud, surrounded by marshes and the smell of decay.
She knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" a voice called.
"Someone who wants to make you an offer."
The door opened.
A man stood in the doorway. Broad-shouldered. Gray-bearded. His face was scarred, his hands were calloused, his eyes were cold.
"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 Warrior's Hut
Liora stepped inside.
The hut was small, lit by a single candle, smelling of sweat and old blood.
"Sit," the warrior 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 felt."
"You should be afraid."
"I've killed a hundred men. I'm not afraid of a child."
"I'm not a child."
"No. You're not."
He reached for his sword.
Liora moved.
Faster than he could follow. Faster than he could react.
Her hand closed around his wrist.
"Please—"
"Shh."
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The Fight
The warrior was strong.
He had spent a lifetime fighting, killing, surviving. He did not go down easily.
He swung his fist.
She dodged.
He swung again.
She caught his arm.
"You're fast," he said.
"I know."
"But not fast enough."
He headbutted her.
She staggered back.
Blood dripped from her lip.
She smiled.
"Good," she said. "I was hoping you'd fight."
She reached into his mind.
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The Draining – The Warrior
The warrior tried to resist.
He had no training in protecting his mind—he was a fighter, not a mage. But his will was strong. His rage was strong.
...kill her...
...kill her now...
...before she...
...before she...
...no...
...I can't...
...I can't move...
...what is she...
...what is...
Liora pulled.
His memories flowed into her.
The battles.
The killings.
The blood.
...a hundred men...
...a thousand...
...the screams...
...the blood...
...the power ...
...she wants it...
...she wants it all...
...and she will take it...
...take it from me...
...take...
She pulled again.
He gasped.
His body convulsed.
His eyes rolled back.
She pulled again.
He went limp.
She withdrew from his mind.
She looked down at him.
Still breathing. Still alive. But empty.
The warrior was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
Another name for Finn's list.
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The Forty-Ninth Ritual
She performed the ritual in the hut, surrounded by the bones of the warrior's enemies.
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 roared.
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The Power – Forty-Nine
The fire in her veins became an inferno.
Forty-nine sacrifices. Forty-nine souls. Forty-nine streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming her.
But this soul was different.
Stronger.
Worth three.
She could feel it. The warrior's essence was thicker, richer, more potent than the others.
Three, she thought.
Three in one.
Eleven more.
If I take another warrior—
Eight.
If I take a mage—
Five.
If I take a noble—
Three.
If I take a king—
None.
If I take a child—
None.
She released the spell.
The shadows retreated.
She looked at the body.
A warrior. Strong. Feared. 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 warrior's body in the hut'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 warrior. Southern marshes. Forty-nine.
He recited the list every night before bed.
Forty-nine names.
Forty-nine faces.
Forty-nine souls.
Forty-nine, he thought.
She's killed forty-nine people.
One more until fifty.
One more until the blood changes.
One more until she becomes something new.
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 Waiting
The castle waited.
The servants waited for the next disappearance.
The guards waited for the next order.
The nobles waited for the next gift.
The queen waited for nothing—she had forgotten how to wait.
And Liora?
Liora waited for the fiftieth.
One more, she thought.
One more until fifty.
One more until the blood changes.
One more until I become something new.
Something more.
Something the world has never seen.
She closed her book.
She looked at her reflection.
The girl in the mirror was gone.
Something else was looking back.
Something ancient.
Something hungry.
One more, she thought.
And then—
Then the blood changes.
Then the real power begins.
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-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 Fifty-Eight