WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Book Twelve: The Eternal Cycle
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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 Eighty-Four: The Ghost's Regret
Year 293 – Two Hundred Eighty-Two Years After the Curse
The ghost in the east had wandered for two hundred eighty-two years.
Not literally—he was only sixty-nine. But he had wandered as if he had been searching for centuries. Every day. Every night. Every shadow of every kind.
He believed the queen could help him.
He believed she could free him.
He believed she could end his suffering.
His name was Ethan—another echo, another coincidence. He was old now, his spirit faded, his memories fragmented.
He had seen many things in his long death.
He had regretted many things.
He had failed many things.
But he had never faced anything like the queen.
The queen was different.
The queen was darkness.
The queen was eternity.
But Ethan had found something.
A regret.
A deep, burning regret that had kept him tied to the world of the living, unable to move on, unable to find peace, unable to die.
He believed that if he could resolve his regret, he could finally rest.
He believed the queen could help him.
He believed she could end his suffering.
This is it, he thought.
This is the answer.
This is how I find peace.
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 Ruins – Morning
Ethan wandered through the ruins, as he always did.
The walls were broken. The floors were cracked. The air was cold.
Life is hard, he thought.
Life is cruel.
Life is short.
But I am not short.
I am endless.
Or I was.
Until I died.
Until I failed.
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.
Three million and forty-eight 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 ghost.
He is restless, they said. He is regretful. He is searching.
He has a regret. A deep, burning regret that has kept him tied to the world of the living.
He believes you can help him.
He believes you can free him.
He believes you can end his suffering.
Liora's smile widened.
A ghost, she thought.
Restless. Regretful. Searching.
He believes I can help him.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
But I am not a savior.
I am not a redeemer.
I am eternal.
And no ghost—
No regret—
No suffering—
Can be ended by me.
Only consumed.
She stood up.
She walked down the steps.
The shadows followed.
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The Eastern Ruins – Night
Ethan waited in the ruins.
The moon was full.
The wind was cold.
The shadows were deep.
Tonight, he thought.
Tonight I find the queen.
Tonight I ask for her help.
Tonight I find peace.
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
Ethan 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.
Ethan floated forward.
"Who—"
"I am the queen."
"The queen?"
"Yes."
"Please—"
"Shh."
Ethan tried to speak.
Liora raised her hand.
"You want my help," she said.
"Yes."
"You want me to free you."
"Yes."
"You want me to end your suffering."
"Yes."
Liora laughed.
"I cannot free you."
"I cannot end your suffering."
"I can only consume you."
Ethan's spirit flickered.
"Then consume me," he said.
"At least I will be gone."
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The Feeding – Ethan
Liora reached into the ghost's mind.
He did not resist.
He could not resist.
He was too tired. Too broken. Too empty.
...the regrets...
...the failures...
...the hope ...
...that she could help him...
...that she could free him...
...that she could end his suffering...
She pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The regret.
The failure.
The soul.
Delicious, she thought.
More.
She pulled again.
He gasped—if he could gasp.
His spirit convulsed.
His eyes rolled back.
She pulled again.
He went limp.
She withdrew from his mind.
She looked at him.
He was fading.
Dissolving.
Ending.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
Not even the dead.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Regret
Liora looked at the regret.
It was deep.
It was burning.
It was ancient.
Interesting, she thought.
Very interesting.
This regret could keep anyone tied to the world.
It could prevent them from moving on.
It could cause endless suffering.
But I have no need for regret.
I have no need for suffering.
I have no need for endings.
I am the regret.
I am the suffering.
I am the ending.
She crushed the regret in her hand.
The burning faded.
The pain stopped.
The suffering ended.
No one will ever feel it now, she thought.
No one will ever be tied by it.
I am safe.
I am eternal.
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The Three Million Forty-Ninth Sacrifice
She performed the ritual in the throne room, surrounded by shadows 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 Forty-Nine
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Three million and forty-nine sacrifices. Three million and forty-nine souls. Three million and forty-nine streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming her.
Three million forty-nine, 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 fading spirit.
A ghost. Restless. Gone.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
Not even the restless.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Disposal
There was no body to burn.
The ghost had dissolved.
His ashes scattered in the wind.
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 north. A witch. Dark. She had been practicing the dark arts for years, learning the old magic, the forbidden spells, the secrets of the universe.
She believed she could match the queen's power.
She believed she was strong enough.
She believed she was ready.
Liora smiled.
Let her practice, 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 Eighty-Four