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 Sixty-One: The Warrior's End
Year 13 – One Hundred Sixteen Months After the First Sacrifice
The whispers had grown stronger.
Fifty-one souls now served Liora. They flitted through the shadows, invisible to all but her, reporting on everything they saw and heard. They told her about the servants' fears, the guards' patrols, the nobles' schemes. They told her about the powerful ones who remained.
There is a warrior in the northern plains, they said. A woman. Young. Strong. Her soul is worth three.
She is a mercenary. She fights for gold. She has no loyalty. She has no family. She has no one who would miss her.
She is perfect.
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so useful.
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The Northern Plains – Night
Liora traveled north, invisible as always.
The whispers guided her. Fifty-one souls, bound to her, serving her, hungry for more.
She is close, they said. Her camp is ahead. She is inside. She is alone.
She is perfect.
She found the camp.
It was small, made of leather and wood, surrounded by the bones of a recent hunt.
She walked inside.
A woman sat by the fire, sharpening her sword.
She looked up.
"You're the princess," she said.
"Yes."
"I've heard about you."
"Good things, I hope."
The woman laughed.
"No. Not good things."
Liora smiled.
"May I sit?"
The woman gestured to the ground.
"Sit."
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The Mercenary's Camp
Liora sat across from the woman.
The fire crackled between them.
"You're not here to hire me," the woman 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."
The woman reached for her sword.
Liora moved.
Faster than the woman could follow. Faster than she could react.
Her hand closed around the mercenary's wrist.
"Please—"
"Shh."
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The Fight
The mercenary was strong.
She had spent a lifetime fighting, killing, surviving. She did not go down easily.
She swung her fist.
Liora dodged.
She swung again.
Liora caught her arm.
"You're fast," the mercenary said.
"I know."
"But not fast enough."
She kicked Liora in the chest.
Liora staggered back.
She smiled.
"Good," she said. "I was hoping you'd fight."
She reached into the mercenary's mind.
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The Draining – The Mercenary
The mercenary tried to resist.
She had no training in protecting her mind—she was a fighter, not a mage. But her will was strong. Her 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.
The memories flowed into her.
The battles.
The killings.
The blood.
...a hundred men...
...a thousand...
...the screams...
...the blood...
...the gold ...
...always the gold...
...never enough...
...never...
...she wants it...
...she wants it all...
...and she will take it...
...take it from me...
...take...
She pulled again.
The mercenary gasped.
Her body convulsed.
Her eyes rolled back.
She pulled again.
The mercenary went limp.
She withdrew from her mind.
She looked down at the body.
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 Fifty-Second Ritual
She performed the ritual in the camp, surrounded by fire and the bones of the hunt.
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 – Fifty-Two
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Fifty-two sacrifices. Fifty-two souls. Fifty-two 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 mercenary's essence was thicker, richer, more potent than the others.
Three, she thought.
Three in one.
Seven more.
If I take another warrior—
Four.
If I take a mage—
One.
If I take a noble—
None.
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 mercenary. Young. Strong. 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 mercenary's body in the camp's fire.
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 mercenary. Northern plains. Fifty-two.
He recited the list every night before bed.
Fifty-two names.
Fifty-two faces.
Fifty-two souls.
Fifty-two, he thought.
She's killed fifty-two 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.
Fifty-two sacrifices.
Seven 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.
Seven 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.
Seven more, she thought.
And then—
Then the curse.
Then forever.
But first—
The powerful.
The ones whose souls are worth the most.
The mage in the south.
The warrior in the west.
The noble in the east.
The child.
She stopped.
Not yet, she told herself.
Not until I'm ready.
Not until I have no other choice.
But the thought lingered.
The hunger lingered.
She wanted to consume a child.
She wanted to taste that innocence.
She wanted to feel that power.
Soon, she thought.
Soon.
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-two 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 Sixty-One