WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Book Two: The Eternal Hunger
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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-Eight: The Learning
Year 13 – One Week After the Curse
The hunger was constant now.
Not a whisper. Not a craving. A need. A void in the center of Liora's being that demanded to be filled, again and again, with no end in sight.
She had fed three times since the curse took hold.
Three men.
Three drainings.
Three empty shells left behind in the lower town.
And still, the hunger returned.
It always returned.
The old texts had warned her, but she had not understood. Not really. Not until she felt it herself—the endless, aching need that would never be satisfied.
This is my gift, she thought.
This is my punishment.
This is my forever.
She sat in her chamber, staring at the ceiling, feeling the curse pulse through her veins.
I need more, she thought.
Not just bodies.
Not just souls.
Something... more.
The whispers agreed.
You need power, they said. The curse feeds on pleasure, but it grows on magic.
You need to feed on the powerful.
The mages.
The warriors.
The ones whose souls burn bright.
They will satisfy you longer.
They will make you stronger.
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so useful.
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The Lower Town – Night
Liora walked through the streets, invisible as always.
The whispers guided her. Fifty-eight souls, bound to her, serving her, hungry for more.
There is a man, they said. In the house on the corner. He is a mage. A traveler. His soul is worth three.
He is alone.
He is vulnerable.
She found the house.
It was small, made of stone, surrounded by the smell of old magic and older secrets.
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. Middle-aged. Bearded. His eyes were sharp, assessing.
"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 House
Liora stepped inside.
The house was warm, lit by candles, smelling of old books 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 Feeding
The curse demanded intimacy.
Not just the draining—the connection. The moment when two bodies became one and souls touched.
Liora had learned this over the past week.
The shadows were her hands, her mouth, her body. They touched the mage where she could not. They caressed him. They took him.
He gasped.
His body arched.
"Please," he whispered.
"Please what?"
"Please..."
She reached into the place where pleasure lived.
She pulled.
He screamed.
Not in pain. In ecstasy.
His body convulsed. His hands clenched. His eyes rolled back.
The shadows drank.
Not just his essence. His magic. His power. His soul.
She consumed everything.
And when it was over—
The hunger quieted.
Longer this time.
The mage's soul was worth three.
Three times the satisfaction.
Three times the power.
She looked down at him.
Still breathing. Still alive. But empty.
Another victim.
Another name for Finn's list.
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The Fifty-Ninth Ritual
She performed the ritual in the mage's house, surrounded by old books and older magic.
The whispers watched.
She spoke the words.
She made the cuts.
She collected the blood.
And when it was over—
The darkness purred.
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The Power – Fifty-Nine
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Fifty-nine sacrifices. Fifty-nine souls. Fifty-nine 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.
The hunger is quieter now.
But it will return.
It always returns.
She released the spell.
The shadows retreated.
She looked at the body.
A mage. 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 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.
The mage. Lower town. Fifty-nine.
He recited the list every night before bed.
Fifty-nine names.
Fifty-nine faces.
Fifty-nine souls.
Fifty-nine, he thought.
She's killed fifty-nine people.
The curse has come.
She is feeding on the powerful now.
She is growing stronger.
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-nine sacrifices.
The curse was hers.
The hunger was endless.
But she had learned something.
The powerful fed the curse better than the weak.
Mages. Warriors. Nobles.
Their souls were worth more.
Their pleasure was worth more.
Their pain was worth 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.
I need more, she thought.
More power.
More pleasure.
More souls.
The curse will never be satisfied.
But I can make it quieter.
For a time.
And in that time—
I will rule.
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-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 Sixty-Eight