WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Book Thirteen: The Endless Void
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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 Ninety-Three: The Reality Bender's Chaos
Year 302 – Two Hundred Ninety-One Years After the Curse
The reality bender in the north had bent reality for two hundred ninety-one years.
Not literally—she was only seventy-eight. But she had bent as if she had been reshaping the world for centuries. Every day. Every night. Every dimension of every kind.
She believed she could challenge the queen.
She believed she could win.
She believed she could kill her.
Her name was Tessara—another echo, another coincidence. She was old now, her form flickering, her power unstable, her mind chaotic.
She had seen many things in her long existence.
She had reshaped many worlds.
She had failed many times.
But she had never faced anything like the queen.
The queen was different.
The queen was darkness.
The queen was eternity.
But Tessara had found something.
A singularity.
An ancient singularity, born from the collapse of a dead reality, imbued with the power to bend any rule, to break any law, to destroy any enemy.
She had hidden it for eons.
She had protected it for eons.
She was ready.
This is it, she thought.
This is the answer.
This is how I bend 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 Northern Rift – Morning
Tessara drifted through the rift, as she always did.
The dimensions shifted. The laws of physics broke. The chaos was comforting.
Life is hard, she thought.
Life is cruel.
Life is short.
But I am not short.
I am chaos.
I am eternal.
Or I was.
Until I bent.
Until I failed.
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 fifty-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 reality bender.
She is chaotic, they said. She is unstable. She is dangerous.
She has a singularity. An ancient singularity. Born from the collapse of a dead reality.
It can bend any rule.
Break any law.
Destroy any enemy.
She believes she can bend you.
She believes she can win.
She believes she can kill you.
Liora's smile widened.
A reality bender, she thought.
Chaotic. Unstable. Dangerous.
A singularity that can bend any rule.
Break any law.
Destroy any enemy.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
But I am not a rule.
I am not a law.
I am eternal.
And no singularity—
No bender—
No chaos—
Can bend eternity.
She stood up.
She walked down the steps.
The shadows followed.
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The Northern Rift – Night
Tessara prepared for her journey.
She held the singularity.
It glowed in her hand.
It was warm.
It was alive.
It was shifting.
Tomorrow, she thought.
Tomorrow I go to the ruins.
Tomorrow I face the queen.
Tomorrow I bend 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 Rift
Liora appeared in the chaos.
White dress. Black eyes. Pale skin.
"You're here," she said.
Tessara looked up.
"Who—"
"I am the queen."
"The queen?"
"Yes."
"Please—"
"Shh."
Tessara raised the singularity.
Liora moved.
Faster than Tessara could follow. Faster than she could react.
Her hand closed around the bender's wrist.
"You won't need that."
"Let go of me."
"No."
Tessara 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 – Tessara
Liora reached into the reality bender's mind.
She tried to resist.
She was chaotic. Unstable. Dangerous.
But she was stronger.
She pushed past her defenses.
She found her memories.
...the bendings...
...the realities...
...the hope ...
...that she could be the one...
...that she could stop her...
...that she could bend her...
She pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The chaos.
The instability.
The soul.
Delicious, she thought.
More.
She pulled again.
Tessara gasped.
Her body convulsed.
Her eyes rolled back.
She pulled again.
Tessara went limp.
She withdrew from her mind.
She looked down at her.
Still breathing. Still alive. But empty.
The reality bender was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
Another name for the list.
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The Singularity
Liora picked up the singularity.
It glowed in her hand.
It was warm.
It was alive.
It was shifting.
Interesting, she thought.
Very interesting.
She raised the singularity.
She looked at its reflection in her eyes.
Her eyes were black.
Her skin was pale.
Her smile was wide.
This singularity could bend anything, she thought.
Any rule.
Any law.
Any enemy.
But I have no need for bending.
I have no need for rules.
I have no need for enemies.
I am the singularity.
I am the rule.
I am the enemy.
She crushed the singularity in her hand.
The glow faded.
The warmth died.
The shifting 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-Eighth Sacrifice
She performed the ritual in the rift, surrounded by chaos and silence.
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-Eight
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Three million and fifty-eight sacrifices. Three million and fifty-eight souls. Three million and fifty-eight streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming her.
Three million fifty-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 reality bender. Chaotic. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
Not even the chaotic.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Disposal
She burned Tessara's body in a pyre of singularity.
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 south. A dream weaver. Elusive. He had been weaving dreams for centuries, trapping his enemies in endless nightmares, feeding on their fear.
He believed he could challenge the queen.
He believed he could win.
He believed he could kill her.
Liora smiled.
Let him weave, she thought.
Let him trap.
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 Ninety-Three