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-Two: The Mage in the South
Year 13 – One Hundred Eighteen Months After the First Sacrifice
The whispers had become a chorus.
Fifty-two souls now served Liora. They filled the shadows of the castle, invisible to all but her, whispering secrets in voices only she could hear. 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 mage in the southern swamps, they said. A man. Young. Powerful. His soul is worth three.
He is a hermit. He lives alone. He trusts no one. He has no family. He has no friends. He has no one who would miss him.
He is perfect.
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so useful.
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The Southern Swamps – Night
Liora traveled south, invisible as always.
The whispers guided her. Fifty-two 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 swamps 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. Young. Pale. His eyes were dark, shadowed by years of solitude.
"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 Hut
Liora stepped inside.
The hut was small, lit by a single candle, smelling of old herbs 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 felt."
"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 Southern Mage
The mage tried to resist.
He had spent years 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 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.
Delicious, she thought.
More.
She pulled again.
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 southern mage was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
Another name for Finn's list.
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The Fifty-Third Ritual
She performed the ritual in the hut, surrounded by old herbs and older 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 screamed.
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The Power – Fifty-Three
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Fifty-three sacrifices. Fifty-three souls. Fifty-three 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.
Five more.
If I take another mage—
Two.
If I take a warrior—
None.
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 mage. Young. 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 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 southern mage. Southern swamps. Fifty-three.
He recited the list every night before bed.
Fifty-three names.
Fifty-three faces.
Fifty-three souls.
Fifty-three, he thought.
She's killed fifty-three 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 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 curse.
Five more, she thought.
Five more until the curse.
If I follow the faster way.
If I consume the powerful.
If I drain the strong.
If I take the innocent.
Five 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.
Five more, she thought.
And then—
Then the curse.
Then forever.
But first—
The powerful.
The ones whose souls are worth the most.
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-three 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-Two