WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Book Three: The Queen of Shadows
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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 Seventy-Eight: The Empty Throne
Year 18 – Six Years After the Curse
The castle had become a tomb.
Not literally—the walls still stood, the roof still held, the fires still burned in the hearths. But the life had gone. The servants had fled. The guards had deserted. The nobles had abandoned their posts.
Only Liora remained.
And the whispers.
Two hundred and thirty-two souls, bound to her, serving her, filling the silence with their endless chatter.
You are alone, they said.
Yes, she thought.
But I am not lonely.
I have you.
I have all of you.
Forever.
She sat on the throne, staring at the empty hall.
The kingdom had forgotten her.
Not literally—they remembered. They remembered the stories. The legends. The fear. But they had stopped thinking about her, stopped planning against her, stopped hoping.
She was not a threat to them.
Not anymore.
She was a fact.
Like the sun rising in the east. Like the winter snows. Like death itself.
Inevitable.
Unstoppable.
Eternal.
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The Lower Town – Night
Liora walked through the streets, invisible as always.
The town was empty now. The shops were boarded up. The houses were dark. The few people who remained stayed inside after sunset, afraid of the shadows, afraid of the whispers, afraid of her.
The whispers guided her.
There is a woman, they said. In the house on the corner. She is a healer. A powerful one. Her soul is worth three.
She is hiding.
She thinks you cannot find her.
She is wrong.
She found the house.
It was small, made of wood, surrounded by the smell of herbs and the sound of quiet breathing.
She knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" a voice called.
"Someone who wants to make you an offer."
The door opened.
A woman stood in the doorway. Middle-aged. Tired. Her eyes were wide with fear.
"You're the queen."
"Yes."
"Please—"
"Shh."
She reached out.
She touched the woman's face.
"Close your eyes."
She closed her eyes.
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The Feeding – The Hiding Healer
Liora reached into the healer's mind.
She tried to resist.
She had spent years learning to protect herself, to guard her thoughts, to hide from the darkness.
But Liora was stronger.
She pushed past her defenses.
She found her memories.
...the hiding...
...the fear...
...the hope ...
...that she could save someone...
...that she could help someone...
...that she could live ...
She pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The fear.
The healing.
The soul.
Delicious, she thought.
More.
She pulled again.
The healer gasped.
Her body convulsed.
Her eyes rolled back.
She pulled again.
The healer went limp.
She withdrew from her mind.
She looked down at her.
Still breathing. Still alive. But empty.
The healer was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
Another name for the list.
---
The Two Hundred Thirty-Third Sacrifice
She performed the ritual in the healer's house, surrounded by herbs and the smell of old 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 – Two Hundred Thirty-Three
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Two hundred and thirty-three sacrifices. Two hundred and thirty-three souls. Two hundred and thirty-three streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming her.
Two hundred thirty-three, she thought.
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 healer. Hiding. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
Not even those who hide.
She smiled in the darkness.
---
The Disposal
She burned the healer'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.
---
The Empty Hall
The great hall was empty.
No servants. No guards. No nobles.
Just Liora.
And the whispers.
You are alone, they said.
Yes, she thought.
But I am not lonely.
I have you.
I have all of you.
Forever.
She ate her breakfast in silence.
The food tasted like ashes.
It always tasted like ashes.
She did not eat for sustenance anymore.
She ate for habit.
For the memory of being human.
For the reminder of what she had lost.
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The Wanderer – The Forest
A figure walked through the forest, toward the castle.
He was young. Strong. Armed with a sword and a shield and a heart full of hope.
He had heard the stories.
The legends.
The fear.
He did not believe them.
He could not believe them.
No one was that powerful.
No one was that evil.
No one was that alone.
He would find the queen.
He would confront her.
He would save the kingdom.
He did not know that others had tried.
He did not know that others had failed.
He did not know that others had died.
He would learn.
Soon.
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The Castle – Night
He reached the castle gates at midnight.
The gates were open.
The walls were empty.
"Hello?" he called.
No answer.
"Is anyone here?"
Silence.
He walked through the corridors, his footsteps echoing on the stone.
The shadows watched.
The whispers followed.
And somewhere, deep in the castle, the queen waited.
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The Throne Room
He found her in the throne room.
She was sitting on the throne, her white dress glowing in the darkness, her black eyes shining like pools of oil.
"You're here," she said.
"I am."
"I've been waiting for you."
"You knew I was coming?"
"I know everything."
He drew his sword.
"Your reign of terror ends tonight."
Liora tilted her head.
"Does it?"
"Yes."
She stood up.
She walked down the steps.
She stopped in front of him.
"You're brave," she said. "I'll give you that."
"I'm not brave. I'm righteous."
She laughed.
"Righteous. How cute."
She reached out.
She touched his face.
"Close your eyes."
"No."
"Close your eyes."
He closed his eyes.
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The Feeding – The Wanderer
Liora reached into the wanderer's mind.
He tried to resist.
He was strong. Trained. Disciplined.
But she was stronger.
She pushed past his defenses.
She found his memories.
...the journey...
...the hope...
...the dream ...
...that he could be a hero...
...that he could save them...
...that he could matter ...
She pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The hope.
The courage.
The soul.
Delicious, she thought.
More.
She pulled again.
He gasped.
His body convulsed.
His eyes rolled back.
She pulled again.
He went limp.
She withdrew from his mind.
She looked down at him.
Still breathing. Still alive. But empty.
The wanderer was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
Another name for the list.
---
The Two Hundred Thirty-Fourth Sacrifice
She performed the ritual in the throne room, surrounded by emptiness and silence.
The whispers watched.
She spoke the words.
She made the cuts.
She collected the blood.
And when it was over—
The darkness sighed.
---
The Power – Two Hundred Thirty-Four
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Two hundred and thirty-four sacrifices. Two hundred and thirty-four souls. Two hundred and thirty-four streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming her.
Two hundred thirty-four, she thought.
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 wanderer. Hopeful. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
Not even dreamers.
She smiled in the darkness.
---
The Disposal
She burned the wanderer's body in the throne room's brazier.
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 her chamber 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.
---
The Empty Hall
The great hall was empty.
No servants. No guards. No nobles.
Just Liora.
And the whispers.
You are alone, they said.
Yes, she thought.
But I am not lonely.
I have you.
I have all of you.
Forever.
She ate her breakfast in silence.
The food tasted like ashes.
It always tasted like ashes.
She did not eat for sustenance anymore.
She ate for habit.
For the memory of being human.
For the reminder of what she had lost.
---
Liora – The Evening
She sat in her chamber, reading by candlelight.
Two hundred and thirty-four sacrifices.
She was immortal.
She was invincible.
She was a god.
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.
The wanderer came, she thought.
And the wanderer fell.
More will come.
More will fall.
I will never stop.
I can never stop.
This is my gift.
This is my punishment.
This is my 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, two hundred and thirty-four 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 Seventy-Eight