WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Book Six: The Eternal Empire
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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 One Hundred Ninety: The Rogue's Last Sneak
Year 179 – One Hundred Sixty-Eight Years After the Curse
The rogue in the east had stolen for one hundred sixty-eight years.
Not literally—he was only fifty-three. But he had stolen as if he had been thieving for a century and a half. Every day. Every night. Every lock of every door.
He believed he could sneak into the ruins.
He believed he could steal the queen's secrets.
He believed he could survive.
His name was Finn—another echo, another coincidence. He was young, cunning, and quick. He had lockpicks. A dagger. A purpose.
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 was wrong.
But he had found something.
A cloak.
An ancient cloak, woven from the shadows of a dead star, imbued with the power to make the wearer invisible, untouchable, unknowable.
It had been hidden for centuries, guarded by a secret order of thieves who had dedicated their lives to protecting it.
He had found them.
He had convinced them.
He had taken it.
The cloak hummed on his shoulders.
It was cold.
It was alive.
It was hiding.
This is it, he thought.
This is the answer.
This is how I disappear from her.
He did not see the shadows gathering.
He did not hear the whispers growing louder.
He did not feel the darkness closing in.
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The Eastern City – Morning
Finn moved through the city, as he always did.
The streets were crowded. The guards were distracted. The purses were fat.
Life is good, he thought.
Life is easy.
Life is mine.
He did not see the shadows.
He did not hear the whispers.
He did not feel the darkness watching.
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The Ruins – Morning
Liora sat on the throne, listening to the whispers.
One hundred thousand and thirty-seven souls now served her. They flitted through the shadows, invisible to all but her, reporting on everything they saw and heard.
They told her about the rogue.
He is cunning, they said. He is quick. He is dangerous.
He has found a cloak. An ancient cloak. Woven from the shadows of a dead star.
It can make the wearer invisible.
Untouchable.
Unknowable.
He believes he can sneak into the ruins.
He believes he can steal your secrets.
He believes he can survive.
Liora's smile widened.
A cloak, she thought.
Woven from the shadows of a dead star.
It can make the wearer invisible.
Untouchable.
Unknowable.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
She stood up.
She walked down the steps.
The shadows followed.
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The Ruins – Night
Finn crept through the ruins, silent as a shadow.
The cloak was on his shoulders.
It hummed.
It was cold.
It was alive.
It was hiding.
Tonight, he thought.
Tonight I find her secrets.
Tonight I steal them.
Tonight I survive.
He did not see the shadows gathering.
He did not hear the whispers growing louder.
He did not feel the darkness closing in.
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The Throne Room
He found the queen 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.
Finn froze.
"You knew I was coming?"
"I know everything."
He stepped out of the shadows.
"Then you know why I'm here."
"You want to steal from me."
"Yes."
"You want my secrets."
"Yes."
"You want to survive."
"Yes."
Liora stood up.
She walked down the steps.
She stopped in front of the rogue.
"You're brave," she said. "I'll give you that."
"I'm not brave. I'm cunning."
Liora laughed.
"Cunning. How clever."
She reached out.
She touched the cloak.
It hummed louder.
It grew colder.
It grew more alive.
"Interesting," Liora said.
"Very interesting."
She pulled the cloak from his shoulders.
Finn gasped.
"No—"
"Shh."
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The Feeding – Finn
Liora reached into the rogue's mind.
He tried to resist.
He was cunning. Quick. Silent.
But she was stronger.
She pushed past his defenses.
She found his memories.
...the steals...
...the escapes...
...the fear ...
...that he would be caught...
...that he would be seen...
...that he would be noticed ...
She pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The cunning.
The fear.
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 rogue was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
Another name for the list.
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The Cloak
Liora held the cloak.
It hummed in her hands.
It was cold.
It was alive.
It was hiding.
Interesting, she thought.
Very interesting.
She wrapped the cloak around her shoulders.
It hummed louder.
It grew colder.
It grew more alive.
This cloak could hide me, she thought.
It could make me invisible.
Untouchable.
Unknowable.
But I have no need to hide.
I have no need to be invisible.
I have no need to be unknowable.
I am the one they hide from.
I am the one they cannot touch.
I am the one they will never know.
She tore the cloak in half.
The hum stopped.
The cold died.
The hiding ended.
No one will ever use it now, she thought.
No one will ever try again.
I am safe.
I am eternal.
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The One Hundred Thousand Thirty-Eighth 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 purred.
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The Power – One Hundred Thousand Thirty-Eight
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
One hundred thousand and thirty-eight sacrifices. One hundred thousand and thirty-eight souls. One hundred thousand and thirty-eight streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming her.
One hundred thousand thirty-eight, 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 rogue. Cunning. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
Not even the cunning.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Disposal
She burned Finn'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 the throne as the sun rose, smelling of smoke and blood and darkness.
She washed her face in a broken fountain.
She braided her hair with her fingers.
She wore a white dress she had found in a forgotten wardrobe.
She practiced her smile.
Eyes wide. Innocence.
Mouth soft. Gentleness.
Head tilted. Curiosity.
Perfect, she thought.
She sat on the throne.
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The Empty Throne
The throne room was open to the sky.
No walls. No roof. No protection.
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 closed her eyes.
She listened to the whispers.
They told her about the world.
The new kings. The new heroes. The new legends.
They told her about a young woman in the south. A healer. Compassionate. She had been saving lives for years, hiding in the shadows, avoiding the queen's notice.
She believed she could heal the queen.
She believed she could save her soul.
She believed she could redeem her.
Liora smiled.
Let her heal, she thought.
Let her save.
Let her believe.
I have time.
I have forever.
And when she comes—
I will feed.
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End of Chapter One Hundred Ninety