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 Thirty-Two: The Shadows Multiply
Year 9 – Twenty-Eight Months After the First Sacrifice
The whispers had grown louder.
Twenty-six souls now served Liora. They lingered in 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 Darian's journal, Finn's list, the captain's doubts.
They told her everything.
And Liora listened.
The dark had opened her senses in ways she had never imagined. She could hear conversations from across the castle. She could see through the eyes of the rats in the walls. She could feel the heartbeat of everyone who walked the corridors.
She was becoming omniscient.
Not yet—not fully. The old texts promised true omniscience at fifty sacrifices. But she was on her way.
At forty sacrifices, the mind expands. At fifty, you will see all. At seventy-five, you will know all.
At one hundred—
She closed the book.
Soon, she thought.
Soon.
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Liora – The Twenty-Seventh Victim
She chose a man this time.
A mason from the lower town. His name was Torvin. He was middle-aged, skilled, and invisible. He worked alone, repairing the stone walls of the castle and the houses of the lower town.
No one would miss him.
Not immediately. The walls would still stand, the houses would still hold. By the time anyone noticed that the mason had stopped coming, his body would be ash.
He was perfect.
But this time, Liora did something different.
She used the whispers.
The souls of her victims had become her eyes and ears. They could go where she could not, see what she could not, hear what she could not.
She sent them to watch Torvin.
They reported back.
He drinks, they whispered. Every night. At the tavern on the corner of Fish Street.
He walks home alone.
He takes the alley behind the tanner's shop.
He is vulnerable.
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so useful.
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Torvin – The Alley
The mason staggered through the dark streets, drunk and alone.
He had drunk too much tonight. More than usual. The memories of his wife—dead these five years—had been pressing on him, and the ale had helped. For a while.
Now the memories were back.
And the darkness was pressing in.
Should have stayed at the tavern, he thought.
Should have slept on the bench.
He turned into the alley behind the tanner's shop.
The shadows were deepest here.
He heard a sound.
Footsteps.
He turned.
A child was standing behind him. Small. Pale. Dressed in white.
"What—"
She moved.
Faster than he could follow. Faster than he could react.
Her hand closed around his throat.
"You're drunk," she said.
"Yes—"
"Good. That will make this easier."
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The Twenty-Seventh Ritual
She performed the ritual in the alley, surrounded by shadows and the smell of tannin.
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 feasted.
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The Power – Twenty-Seven
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Twenty-seven sacrifices. Twenty-seven souls. Twenty-seven streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming part of her.
She raised her hand.
The shadows answered.
They came faster now. More eagerly. They wrapped around her arms, her throat, her face. She could feel them inside her, in her lungs, in her stomach, in her mind.
More, they whispered. We need more.
Soon, she thought.
Soon.
She released the spell.
The shadows retreated.
She looked at the body.
A mason. Skilled. Invisible. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Disposal
She burned Torvin's body in the alley.
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 returned 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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Darian – The Journal
Darian added another entry to his journal.
Twenty-seventh victim. Torvin. Mason. Disappeared last night.
Body not found.
Cause of death unknown.
Suspect: Princess Liora.
He hid the journal beneath the loose stone.
He went down to breakfast.
His sister was already there, smiling, eating porridge.
"Good morning, Darian," she said.
"Good morning, Liora," he said.
Their eyes met.
For a moment—just a moment—he saw something in her gaze.
Not recognition.
Not acknowledgment.
Hunger.
She looked away.
She ate her porridge.
She smiled at their mother.
But Darian did not stop watching.
He never stopped watching.
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Finn – The List
Finn added another name to the list in his head.
Torvin. Mason. Twenty-seven.
He recited the list every night before bed, a dark litany that kept the nightmares at bay.
Twenty-seven names.
Twenty-seven faces.
Twenty-seven souls.
And more coming.
He could feel it.
The princess was not slowing down. She was accelerating. The hunger was driving her, pushing her, making her reckless.
She'll make a mistake, he thought.
She has to.
No one is that perfect.
But she was.
She had been perfect for twenty-seven kills.
Why would she stop now?
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The Vigil Continues
The castle slept.
The guards dozed at their posts. The servants dreamed in their narrow beds. The nobles snored in their silk sheets.
But three people did not sleep.
Darian lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day's observations in his mind.
Finn lay in his corner, staring at the darkness, reciting the list of names like a prayer.
And Liora—
Liora sat in her chamber, reading by candlelight, the shadows dancing around her like living things.
Twenty-seven, she thought.
Seventy-three more until the curse.
Seventy-three more until forever.
She closed the book.
She looked at her reflection.
The girl in the mirror looked back.
But the girl was fading.
Something else was taking her place.
Something older.
Something hungrier.
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, twenty-seven 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 Thirty-Two