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-Five: The Child
Year 13 – One Hundred Twenty-Four Months After the First Sacrifice
Two more.
Two more until the curse.
Two more until forever.
Liora sat in her chamber, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the child.
The whispers had told her about a boy in the lower town. Young. Innocent. Pure. His soul was worth ten.
Ten, she thought.
Ten in one.
Two more becomes none.
If I take him—
The curse comes now.
Not later.
Now.
She had been waiting for this moment for years. The curse. The hunger. The endless craving that would bind her to the dark forever.
But she had not expected it to come like this.
Through a child.
Through an innocent.
She thought about the boy. His name was Tomas. He was six years old. He lived with his mother in a small house on the edge of the lower town. He had never hurt anyone. He had never wished anyone ill. He was good.
And his soul was worth ten.
Ten, she thought.
Ten in one.
The curse comes now.
Not later.
Now.
She stood up.
She walked to the door.
She stepped into the corridor.
The shadows followed.
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The Lower Town – Night
Liora walked through the streets, invisible as always.
The whispers guided her. Fifty-five souls, bound to her, serving her, hungry for more.
He is close, they said. His house is ahead. He is inside. He is sleeping.
He is perfect.
She found the house.
It was small, made of wood and stone, surrounded by the smell of bread and the sound of quiet breathing.
She climbed through the window.
The boy was lying in his bed, sleeping, his chest rising and falling softly.
...dreaming...
...of the sun...
...of the fields...
...of his mother's smile...
...of nothing important...
...of everything...
She stood over him, watching.
He is so small, she thought.
So fragile.
So innocent.
His soul is worth ten.
Ten in one.
The curse comes now.
Not later.
Now.
She reached out.
She touched his face.
He stirred.
"Mommy?" he whispered.
"Shh," Liora said. "Close your eyes."
He closed his eyes.
She reached into his mind.
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The Draining – The Child
The boy did not resist.
He did not know how. He was six years old. He had never learned to protect his mind, to guard his thoughts, to fight against intrusion.
He simply opened.
Liora saw his memories.
...his mother's face...
...her smile...
...her voice...
...singing...
...always singing...
...the sun...
...the fields...
...the flowers...
...the love ...
...so much love...
...more than he could hold...
...more than he could ever...
She pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The love.
The joy.
The innocence.
Delicious, she thought.
More.
She pulled again.
The boy gasped.
His body arched.
His hands clenched.
More.
She pulled again.
He went limp.
She withdrew from his mind.
She looked down at him.
Still breathing. Still alive. But empty.
The child was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
The fifty-sixth.
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The Fifty-Sixth Ritual
She performed the ritual in the boy's bedroom, surrounded by the smell of bread and the sound of silence.
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-Six
The fire in her veins became a supernova.
Fifty-six sacrifices. Fifty-six souls. Fifty-six streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming her.
But this soul was different.
Stronger.
Worth ten.
She could feel it. The child's essence was purer, brighter, more potent than anything she had ever consumed.
Ten, she thought.
Ten in one.
One more.
One more until the curse.
If I take another child—
None.
The curse comes now.
Not later.
Now.
She released the spell.
The shadows retreated.
She looked at the body.
A child. Innocent. Pure. 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 boy's body in the house'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.
Tomas. Child. Fifty-six.
He recited the list every night before bed.
Fifty-six names.
Fifty-six faces.
Fifty-six souls.
Fifty-six, he thought.
She's killed fifty-six people.
Including a child.
One more.
One more until the curse.
One more until she becomes something new.
Something more.
Something the world has never seen.
He lay in his corner, staring at the darkness.
He did not sleep.
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The Mother – The Morning
The boy's mother woke at dawn.
She went to his room to wake him for breakfast.
He was not there.
She searched the house.
She searched the street.
She searched the lower town.
She found nothing.
She never found anything.
She would spend the rest of her life searching.
She would never know what had happened to her son.
She would never know that his soul had been consumed.
She would never know that he had died for the curse.
Another victim.
Another life destroyed.
And Liora?
Liora watched.
And smiled.
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Liora – The Evening
She sat in her chamber, reading by candlelight.
Fifty-six sacrifices.
One 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.
One 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.
One more, she thought.
And then—
Then the curse.
Then forever.
But first—
The powerful.
The ones whose souls are worth the most.
Another child.
She stopped.
Yes, she told herself.
Another child.
One more innocent.
One more soul.
One more until the curse.
One more until 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, fifty-six 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-Five