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-Nine: The Fiftieth
Year 13 – One Hundred Twelve Months After the First Sacrifice
Fifty sacrifices.
The number had weight. Significance. The old texts had made that clear.
At fifty sacrifices, the blood changes. Your blood will no longer be red. It will become black as shadow, thick as oil, hot as flame.
You will no longer bleed like a mortal.
Your wounds will close in moments.
Your heart will beat slower, stronger, more efficiently.
You are becoming something that does not age.
Something that does not die.
Rejoice.
Liora rejoiced.
She had been waiting for this moment for months. The fiftieth sacrifice was special. Different from the others. It required a soul of great power. A soul worth more than one. A soul that would push her over the threshold.
The whispers had told her about a mage in the eastern mountains. A woman. Old. Powerful. Her soul was worth three.
She was the last elder of a forgotten order. She had lived for centuries, hiding in the mountains, waiting for the end of days.
She did not know that the end of days had come.
And that the end of days wore the face of a thirteen-year-old girl.
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The Eastern Mountains – Night
Liora traveled east, invisible as always.
The whispers guided her. Forty-nine souls, bound to her, serving her, hungry for the fiftieth.
She is close, they said. Her cave is ahead. She is inside. She is alone.
She is perfect.
She found the cave.
It was deep, dark, hidden behind a waterfall. The air was cold, damp, smelling of old magic and older secrets.
She walked inside.
The cave opened into a large chamber, lit by crystals that glowed with their own light.
An old woman sat in the center of the chamber, cross-legged, eyes closed.
"I've been waiting for you," the woman said.
"You knew I was coming?"
"I've seen it. In my visions. The dark one. The one who wears a child's face."
Liora stepped closer.
"Then you know why I'm here."
"You want my soul."
"Yes."
The woman opened her eyes.
They were white. Blind. But they saw everything.
"You won't succeed," she said.
"I always succeed."
"This is my place of power. I have lived here for three hundred years. The mountain knows me. The crystals know me. The dark knows me."
"The dark doesn't know you," Liora said. "The dark is me."
She moved.
Faster than the woman could follow. Faster than she could react.
Her hand closed around the mage's throat.
"Please—"
"Shh."
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The Draining – The Elder Mage
The elder mage tried to resist.
She had spent centuries studying the mind, learning to protect it from intrusion. But Liora was stronger than anyone she had ever encountered.
She pushed past the mage'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...
...the others...
...the mages who came before...
...the ones who tried to stop the dark...
...they all failed...
...she will fail too...
...no...
...she will not fail...
...she will succeed...
...she will become...
...the darkness ...
...itself...
Liora pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The knowledge.
The secrets.
The power.
Three hundred years of wisdom.
Three hundred years of magic.
Three hundred years of life.
All of it.
Delicious, she thought.
More.
She pulled again.
The mage gasped.
Her body convulsed.
Her eyes rolled back.
She pulled again.
The mage went limp.
She withdrew from her mind.
She looked down at the body.
Still breathing. Still alive. But empty.
The elder mage was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
The fiftieth.
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The Fiftieth Ritual
She performed the ritual in the cave, surrounded by glowing crystals and the smell of ancient magic.
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 exploded.
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The Power – Fifty
The fire in her veins became a supernova.
Fifty sacrifices. Fifty souls. Fifty 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 elder mage's essence was thicker, richer, more potent than anything she had ever consumed.
Three, she thought.
Three in one.
Ten more.
If I take another mage—
Seven.
If I take a warrior—
Four.
If I take a noble—
Two.
If I take a king—
None.
If I take a child—
None.
But the numbers didn't matter.
Not now.
What mattered was the change.
She could feel her blood shifting.
Growing hotter.
Growing darker.
She looked at her hands.
The veins beneath her skin were black now.
Not blue. Not purple.
Black.
She raised her hand.
She pricked her finger with a crystal shard.
Black blood welled up.
Thick.
Hot.
Beautiful.
This is what I am now, she thought.
This is what I will always be.
She smiled.
The darkness smiled with her.
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The Return
She walked back to the castle as the sun rose.
Her dress was white. Her hair was braided. Her face was soft and sweet and completely ordinary.
But her blood was black.
And her power was beyond anything she had ever known.
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 elder mage. Eastern mountains. Fifty.
He recited the list every night before bed.
Fifty names.
Fifty faces.
Fifty souls.
Fifty, he thought.
She's killed fifty people.
She's reached fifty.
The blood has changed.
She's more powerful than ever.
No one is safe.
No one.
He lay in his corner, staring at the darkness.
He did not sleep.
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Liora – The Evening
She sat in her chamber, reading by candlelight.
Fifty sacrifices.
Ten 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.
Ten 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.
Ten more, she thought.
And then—
Then the curse.
Then forever.
But first—
The blood.
The black blood.
The power that comes with it.
She raised her hand.
She pricked her finger.
Black blood welled up.
She watched it drip onto the page.
It sizzled.
Smoked.
Burned.
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, fifty 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-Nine