WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Book Seven: The Age 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 Two Hundred Twenty-Two: The Sailor's Freedom
Year 221 – Two Hundred Ten Years After the Curse
The sailor in the east had sailed for two hundred ten years.
Not literally—he was only forty-five. But he had sailed as if he had been crossing oceans for two centuries. Every day. Every night. Every voyage of every season.
He believed the queen would never find him.
He believed he was safe.
He believed he was free.
His name was Corin—another echo, another coincidence. He was young, adventurous, and wild. He had a ship. A crew. A life.
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 spyglass.
An ancient spyglass, forged from the eye of a dead eagle, imbued with the power to see any distance, any horizon, any danger.
It had been hidden for centuries, guarded by a secret order of sailors who had dedicated their lives to protecting it.
He had found them.
He had convinced them.
He had taken it.
The spyglass hummed in his hand.
It was cold.
It was alive.
It was seeing.
This is it, he thought.
This is the answer.
This is how I see her coming.
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 Harbor – Morning
Corin prepared his ship for departure, as he always did.
The sails were raised. The anchor was lifted. The wind was favorable.
Life is good, he thought.
Life is free.
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.
Two hundred thousand and twenty-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 sailor.
He is free, they said. He is adventurous. He is wild.
He has found a spyglass. An ancient spyglass. Forged from the eye of a dead eagle.
It can see any distance.
Any horizon.
Any danger.
He believes he can see you coming.
He believes he can escape you.
He believes he can survive.
Liora's smile widened.
A spyglass, she thought.
Forged from the eye of a dead eagle.
It can see any distance.
Any horizon.
Any danger.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
She stood up.
She walked down the steps.
The shadows followed.
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The Open Sea – Night
Liora traveled across the water, invisible as always.
The whispers guided her. Two hundred thousand and twenty-seven souls, bound to her, serving her, hungry for more.
He is close, they said. His ship is ahead. He is sailing. He is alone.
He is perfect.
She found the ship.
It was large, made of wood and sail, cutting through the waves like a knife.
She walked across the water.
The shadows followed.
No one saw her.
No one ever saw her.
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The Ship
Corin stood at the helm, steering his ship through the night.
The spyglass was in his hand.
It hummed.
It was cold.
It was alive.
It was seeing.
Where is she? he thought.
Where is the queen?
Where is the danger?
He raised the spyglass to his eye.
He scanned the horizon.
He saw nothing.
He saw everything.
He saw her.
She was standing behind him.
He turned.
"Who—"
"I am the queen."
"The queen?"
"Yes."
"Please—"
"Shh."
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The Feeding – Corin
Liora reached into the sailor's mind.
He tried to resist.
He was strong. Adventurous. Wild.
But she was stronger.
She pushed past his defenses.
She found his memories.
...the voyages...
...the freedoms...
...the joy ...
...that he could go anywhere...
...that he could do anything...
...that he could be free ...
She pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The freedom.
The joy.
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 sailor was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
Another name for the list.
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The Spyglass
Liora picked up the spyglass.
It hummed in her hand.
It was cold.
It was alive.
It was seeing.
Interesting, she thought.
Very interesting.
She raised the spyglass to her eye.
She looked at her reflection.
Her eyes were black.
Her skin was pale.
Her smile was wide.
But the spyglass showed her something else.
A girl.
A young girl with tea-colored eyes and a white dress.
A girl who had not yet killed.
A girl who had not yet fed.
A girl who had not yet become her.
The first soul, she thought.
The first victim.
If someone sees that soul—
They will see my weakness.
For a moment.
One moment.
That is when they could strike.
She crushed the spyglass in her hand.
The metal bent.
The glass shattered.
The hum stopped.
The cold died.
The seeing ended.
No one will ever use it now, she thought.
No one will ever see.
No one will ever know.
I am safe.
I am eternal.
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The Crew
The crew watched in horror.
"She killed him."
"She drained him."
"We have to run."
"We have to fight."
Liora turned to face them.
"Who's next?"
They screamed.
They jumped overboard.
They drowned.
She let them go.
They were not worth her time.
Not worth her hunger.
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The Two Hundred Thousand Twenty-Eighth Sacrifice
She performed the ritual on the ship, surrounded by water and wind and darkness.
The whispers watched.
She spoke the words.
She made the cuts.
She collected the blood.
And when it was over—
The darkness howled.
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The Power – Two Hundred Thousand Twenty-Eight
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Two hundred thousand and twenty-eight sacrifices. Two hundred thousand and twenty-eight souls. Two hundred thousand and twenty-eight streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming her.
Two hundred thousand twenty-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 sailor. Free. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
Not even the free.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Disposal
She burned Corin's body on the ship.
The fire was hot. The smoke was thick. She worked quickly, efficiently, scattering the ashes into the sea.
No one saw her.
No one ever saw her.
She walked back to the ruins 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 west. A scholar. Curious. She had been studying the queen for years, reading every text, deciphering every clue.
She believed she had found the queen's origin.
She believed she understood her weakness.
She believed she could end her.
Liora smiled.
Let her study, she thought.
Let her learn.
Let her believe.
I have time.
I have forever.
And when she comes—
I will feed.
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End of Chapter Two Hundred Twenty-Two