WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Book Nine: The Age of Desolation
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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 Fifty-Seven: The Scholar's Revelation
Year 266 – Two Hundred Fifty-Five Years After the Curse
The scholar in the south had studied for two hundred fifty-five years.
Not literally—she was only forty-two. But she had studied as if she had been reading for centuries. Every day. Every night. Every page of every book.
She believed she had found the queen's origin.
She believed she understood her weakness.
She believed she could end her.
Her name was Liana—another echo, another coincidence. She was young, curious, and brilliant. She had a library. A collection. A purpose.
She had heard the stories.
The legends.
The fear.
She believed them.
She knew the queen was powerful. Immortal. Invincible.
But she also knew that no one was truly invincible.
Everyone had a beginning.
Everyone had an origin.
Everyone had a weakness.
She just had to find it.
And she had found something.
A bloodline.
An ancient bloodline, hidden for centuries, the descendants of the first soul the queen had consumed. Their blood carried the memory of that ancient death. Their blood could unlock the queen's vulnerability.
She had traced them.
She had found them.
She had studied them.
This is it, she thought.
This is the answer.
This is how I end her.
She did not see the shadows gathering.
She did not hear the whispers growing louder.
She did not feel the darkness closing in.
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The Southern Library – Morning
Liana read in her library, as she always did.
The books were old. The pages were yellow. The words were fading.
Life is short, she thought.
Life is fragile.
Life is precious.
She did not see the shadows.
She did not hear the whispers.
She did not feel the darkness watching.
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The Ruins – Morning
Liora sat on the throne, listening to the whispers.
Three million and twenty-one 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 scholar.
She is curious, they said. She is brilliant. She is dangerous.
She has found a bloodline. An ancient bloodline. The descendants of the first soul you consumed.
Their blood carries the memory of that ancient death.
Their blood can unlock your vulnerability.
She believes she has found your origin.
She believes she understands your weakness.
She believes she can end you.
Liora's smile faded.
A bloodline, she thought.
The descendants of the first soul.
Their blood can unlock my vulnerability.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
She stood up.
She walked down the steps.
The shadows followed.
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The Southern Library – Night
Liana worked late into the night.
She held a vial of blood.
It was dark, almost black, pulsing with a faint light.
This is the blood, she thought.
The blood of the descendants.
The blood that can unlock the queen's vulnerability.
Tomorrow, she thought.
Tomorrow I go to the ruins.
Tomorrow I face the queen.
Tomorrow I end her.
She did not see the shadows gathering.
She did not hear the whispers growing louder.
She did not feel the darkness closing in.
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The Library
Liora appeared in the doorway.
White dress. Black eyes. Pale skin.
"You're here," she said.
Liana looked up.
"Who—"
"I am the queen."
"The queen?"
"Yes."
"Please—"
"Shh."
Liana reached for the vial.
Liora moved.
Faster than Liana could follow. Faster than she could react.
Her hand closed around the scholar's wrist.
"You won't need that."
"Let go of me."
"No."
Liana tried to pull away.
She could not.
Liora's grip was like iron.
"What are you?"
"I am what comes next."
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The Feeding – Liana
Liora reached into the scholar's mind.
She tried to resist.
She was curious. Brilliant. Determined.
But she was stronger.
She pushed past her defenses.
She found her memories.
...the studies...
...the discoveries...
...the hope ...
...that she could be the one...
...that she could understand her...
...that she could end her...
She pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The curiosity.
The brilliance.
The soul.
Delicious, she thought.
More.
She pulled again.
Liana gasped.
Her body convulsed.
Her eyes rolled back.
She pulled again.
Liana went limp.
She withdrew from her mind.
She looked down at her.
Still breathing. Still alive. But empty.
The scholar was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
Another name for the list.
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The Bloodline
Liora picked up the vial of blood.
It pulsed in her hand.
It was dark, almost black, alive with a faint light.
Interesting, she thought.
Very interesting.
She raised the vial.
She looked at its reflection in her eyes.
Her eyes were black.
Her skin was pale.
Her smile was wide.
This blood could unlock my vulnerability, she thought.
It could make me vulnerable.
It could make me mortal.
But I have no need for vulnerability.
I have no need for mortality.
I have no need for weakness.
I am the vulnerability.
I am the mortality.
I am the weakness.
She crushed the vial in her hand.
The glass shattered.
The blood evaporated.
The pulse stopped.
The unlocking 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 Three Million Twenty-Second Sacrifice
She performed the ritual in the library, surrounded by books 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 – Three Million Twenty-Two
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Three million and twenty-two sacrifices. Three million and twenty-two souls. Three million and twenty-two streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming her.
Three million twenty-two, 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 scholar. Curious. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
Not even the curious.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Disposal
She burned Liana's body in the library'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 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 man in the east. A warrior. Determined. He had been training for years, preparing for the day when he would face the queen.
He believed he was ready.
He believed he could win.
He believed he could kill her.
Liora smiled.
Let him train, she thought.
Let him prepare.
Let him believe.
I have time.
I have forever.
And when he comes—
I will feed.
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End of Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Seven