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-Eight: The Ancient Dragon
Year 297 – Two Hundred Eighty-Six Years After the Curse
The dragon in the east had slept for two hundred eighty-six years.
Not literally—he was only seventy-three. But he had slept as if he had been hibernating for centuries. Every day. Every night. Every dream of every kind.
He believed he could challenge the queen.
He believed he could win.
He believed he could kill her.
His name was Ignis—another echo, another coincidence. He was old now, his scales cracked, his fire dimmed, his eyes still burning.
He had seen many things in his long life.
He had burned many cities.
He had failed many times.
But he had never faced anything like the queen.
The queen was different.
The queen was darkness.
The queen was eternity.
But Ignis had found something.
A hoard.
An ancient hoard of gold and jewels, stolen from the kingdoms of men, imbued with the power to grant wishes, to change reality, to destroy any enemy.
He had hidden it for centuries.
He had protected it for centuries.
He was ready.
This is it, he thought.
This is the answer.
This is how I destroy 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 Mountains – Morning
Ignis flew through the mountains, as he always did.
The wind was cold. The air was thin. The sky was wide.
Life is hard, he thought.
Life is cruel.
Life is short.
But I am not short.
I am ancient.
I am eternal.
Or I was.
Until I slept.
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 fifty-two 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 dragon.
He is ancient, they said. He is powerful. He is dangerous.
He has a hoard. An ancient hoard of gold and jewels.
Stolen from the kingdoms of men.
It can grant wishes.
Change reality.
Destroy any enemy.
He believes he can destroy you.
He believes he can win.
He believes he can kill you.
Liora's smile widened.
A dragon, she thought.
Ancient. Powerful. Dangerous.
A hoard that can grant wishes.
Change reality.
Destroy any enemy.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
But I am not an enemy.
I am not a wish.
I am eternal.
And no hoard—
No dragon—
No wish—
Can destroy eternity.
She stood up.
She walked down the steps.
The shadows followed.
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The Eastern Mountains – Night
Ignis prepared for his journey.
He held a single coin from his hoard.
It glowed in his claw.
It was warm.
It was alive.
It was wishing.
Tomorrow, he thought.
Tomorrow I go to the ruins.
Tomorrow I face the queen.
Tomorrow I destroy 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 Mountains
Liora appeared in the firelight.
White dress. Black eyes. Pale skin.
"You're here," she said.
Ignis looked up.
"Who—"
"I am the queen."
"The queen?"
"Yes."
"Please—"
"Shh."
Ignis raised his claw.
Liora moved.
Faster than he could follow. Faster than he could react.
Her hand closed around his wrist.
"You won't need that."
"Let go of me."
"No."
Ignis tried to pull away.
He could not.
Liora's grip was like iron.
"What are you?"
"I am what comes next."
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The Feeding – Ignis
Liora reached into the dragon's mind.
He tried to resist.
He was ancient. Powerful. Dangerous.
But she was stronger.
She pushed past his defenses.
She found his memories.
...the hoard...
...the wishes...
...the hope ...
...that he could be the one...
...that he could stop her...
...that he could destroy her...
She pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The hoard.
The wishes.
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 dragon was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
Another name for the list.
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The Hoard
Liora looked at the hoard.
It was massive.
Gold. Jewels. Power.
Interesting, she thought.
Very interesting.
She picked up a single coin.
It glowed in her hand.
It was warm.
It was alive.
It was wishing.
This hoard could grant any wish, she thought.
It could change reality.
It could destroy any enemy.
But I have no need for wishes.
I have no need for gold.
I have no need for power.
I am the wish.
I am the gold.
I am the power.
She crushed the coin in her hand.
The glow faded.
The warmth died.
The wishing 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 Fifty-Third Sacrifice
She performed the ritual in the mountains, surrounded by fire and darkness.
The whispers watched.
She spoke the words.
She made the cuts.
She collected the blood.
And when it was over—
The darkness roared.
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The Power – Three Million Fifty-Three
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Three million and fifty-three sacrifices. Three million and fifty-three souls. Three million and fifty-three streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming her.
Three million fifty-three, 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 dragon. Ancient. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
Not even the ancient.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Disposal
She burned Ignis's body in his own hoard.
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 woman in the north. A phoenix. Reborn. She had been dying and rising from the ashes for centuries, each time more powerful, each time more determined.
She believed she could challenge the queen.
She believed she could win.
She believed she could kill her.
Liora smiled.
Let her die, she thought.
Let her rise.
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-Eight