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-Nine: The Time Weaver's Loop
Year 308 – Two Hundred Ninety-Seven Years After the Curse
The time weaver in the west had woven time for two hundred ninety-seven years.
Not literally—she was only eighty-four. But she had woven as if she had been creating loops for centuries. Every day. Every night. Every timeline of every kind.
She believed she could challenge the queen.
She believed she could win.
She believed she could kill her.
Her name was Chrona—another echo, another coincidence. She was old now, her form flickering, her power immense, her loops endless.
She had seen many things in her long existence.
She had woven many timelines.
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 Chrona had found something.
A temporal shard.
An ancient temporal shard, torn from the heart of the first timeline, imbued with the power to loop anything, to trap anything, to destroy anything.
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 trap 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 Western Timeline – Morning
Chrona drifted through the timeline, as she always did.
The moments shifted. The loops repeated. The power was absolute.
Life is hard, she thought.
Life is cruel.
Life is short.
But I am not short.
I am temporal.
I am eternal.
Or I was.
Until I wove.
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 sixty-three 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 time weaver.
She is temporal, they said. She is flickering. She is dangerous.
She has a temporal shard. An ancient temporal shard. Torn from the heart of the first timeline.
It can loop anything.
Trap anything.
Destroy any thing.
She believes she can loop you.
She believes she can win.
She believes she can kill you.
Liora's smile widened.
A time weaver, she thought.
Temporal. Flickering. Dangerous.
A temporal shard that can loop anything.
Trap anything.
Destroy any thing.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
But I am not a thing.
I am not time.
I am eternal.
And no shard—
No weaver—
No loop—
Can trap eternity.
She stood up.
She walked down the steps.
The shadows followed.
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The Western Timeline – Night
Chrona prepared for her journey.
She held the temporal shard.
It glowed in her hand.
It was warm.
It was alive.
It was looping.
Tomorrow, she thought.
Tomorrow I go to the ruins.
Tomorrow I face the queen.
Tomorrow I trap 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 Timeline
Liora appeared in the loop.
White dress. Black eyes. Pale skin.
"You're here," she said.
Chrona looked up.
"Who—"
"I am the queen."
"The queen?"
"Yes."
"Please—"
"Shh."
Chrona raised the temporal shard.
Liora moved.
Faster than Chrona could follow. Faster than she could react.
Her hand closed around the weaver's wrist.
"You won't need that."
"Let go of me."
"No."
Chrona 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 – Chrona
Liora reached into the time weaver's mind.
She tried to resist.
She was temporal. Flickering. Dangerous.
But she was stronger.
She pushed past her defenses.
She found her memories.
...the loops...
...the timelines...
...the hope ...
...that she could be the one...
...that she could stop her...
...that she could trap her...
She pulled.
The memories flowed into her.
The loops.
The timelines.
The soul.
Delicious, she thought.
More.
She pulled again.
Chrona gasped.
Her body convulsed.
Her eyes rolled back.
She pulled again.
Chrona went limp.
She withdrew from her mind.
She looked down at her.
Still breathing. Still alive. But empty.
The time weaver was no more.
Just a shell.
Another victim.
Another name for the list.
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The Temporal Shard
Liora picked up the temporal shard.
It glowed in her hand.
It was warm.
It was alive.
It was looping.
Interesting, she thought.
Very interesting.
She raised the temporal shard.
She looked at its reflection in her eyes.
Her eyes were black.
Her skin was pale.
Her smile was wide.
This shard could loop anything, she thought.
It could trap anything.
It could destroy any thing.
But I have no need for looping.
I have no need for traps.
I have no need for destruction.
I am the loop.
I am the trap.
I am the destruction.
She crushed the temporal shard in her hand.
The glow faded.
The warmth died.
The looping 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 Sixty-Fourth Sacrifice
She performed the ritual in the timeline, surrounded by loops 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 Sixty-Four
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Three million and sixty-four sacrifices. Three million and sixty-four souls. Three million and sixty-four streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming her.
Three million sixty-four, 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 time weaver. Temporal. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
Not even the temporal.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Disposal
She burned Chrona's body in a pyre of loops.
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 dimension hopper. Vast. He had been hopping dimensions for centuries, exploring infinite realities, his knowledge boundless.
He believed he could challenge the queen.
He believed he could win.
He believed he could kill her.
Liora smiled.
Let him hop, she thought.
Let him explore.
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-Nine