WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Book Zero: The First Darkness
Interlude: The First Werewolf
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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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Interlude Chapter Thirty-One: The Birth of the First Werewolf
The Age of Magic – The First Bite
The first werewolf was not born from darkness.
He was cursed.
His name was Fenris.
He was a hunter, strong and proud, with a wife and two children.
He lived in a small village at the edge of the forest.
He was happy.
He was loved.
He was whole.
But the forest held secrets.
Old magic.
Dark magic.
One night, while hunting a wolf that had been killing the village's sheep, Fenris found something.
Not a wolf.
A monster.
A creature of shadow and fur, with eyes that burned like fire and teeth that dripped with hunger.
It attacked him.
He fought back.
He was strong.
He was skilled.
He was brave.
But the monster was stronger.
It bit him.
Deep.
In the arm.
The pain was unbearable.
He screamed.
The monster fled.
Fenris stumbled home.
His wife tended his wound.
His children watched with wide eyes.
He tried to sleep.
But the darkness would not let him.
It changed him.
His bones cracked.
His skin ripped.
His teeth grew.
He became the monster.
He killed his wife.
He killed his children.
He killed his neighbors.
He killed everyone.
When morning came, he woke in the ruins of his village.
His hands were covered in blood.
His mouth was filled with flesh.
His heart was empty.
He was the first werewolf.
Not the last.
Never the last.
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Interlude Chapter Thirty-Two: The First Werewolf's Curse
The Age of Darkness – The Full Moon
Fenris learned to control the change.
Not completely.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
Enough to hide.
Enough to survive.
Enough to hate himself.
He wandered the world, searching for a cure.
He found none.
The curse was permanent.
It was eternal.
It was dark.
He sought out a witch.
A powerful witch, old and terrible.
"Remove the curse," he begged.
"I cannot remove it," the witch said.
"It is part of you now."
"Part of your soul."
"Part of your darkness."
"Then teach me to control it," he said.
"To tame it."
"To live with it."
The witch nodded.
"I can teach you that."
"But it will not be easy."
"It will not be comfortable."
"It will be painful."
"I do not care," Fenris said.
"I just want to stop killing."
"I just want to stop hurting."
"I just want to be human again."
The witch taught him.
For years.
For decades.
For centuries.
He learned to control the change.
To direct the hunger.
To contain the rage.
He was never fully human again.
But he was not fully monster either.
He was something in between.
Something new.
Something hopeful.
The watcher watched.
It saw Fenris struggle.
It saw him grow.
It saw him change.
"You are doing something new," the watcher said.
"Something different."
"Something hopeful."
"Will you succeed?"
"I do not know," Fenris replied.
"But I will try."
"I will fight."
"I will hope."
"That is all anyone can do."
The watcher nodded.
"Then I will watch."
"I will wait."
"I will hope."
"With you."
"Thank you," Fenris said.
"You are welcome."
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Interlude Chapter Thirty-Three: The First Werewolf's End
The Age of Darkness – The Final Hunt
Fenris grew old.
Not in body—the curse kept him young.
In spirit.
He was tired.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of running.
Tired of hoping.
He returned to the forest where it all began.
He sat beneath the old oak tree.
He closed his eyes.
The darkness greeted him.
Hello, Fenris, it said.
Hello, he thought.
We have missed you.
I have missed you too.
Are you ready?
Yes.
Are you afraid?
No.
Then come.
Come home.
Come to peace.
He smiled.
The darkness embraced him.
He faded.
The watcher watched.
It saw him go.
It saw his end.
It saw his peace.
"Goodbye, Fenris," it whispered.
"Thank you for trying.
Thank you for fighting.
Thank you for hoping.
You were worth it.
You were worth everything."
The werewolves continued.
They spread.
They multiplied.
They hunted.
And the watcher watched.
Always watching.
Always waiting.
Always hoping.
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End of First Werewolf Interlude
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Interlude: The First Ghost
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Interlude Chapter Thirty-Four: The Birth of the First Ghost
The Age of Magic – The First Death
The first ghost was not born from darkness.
It was born from regret.
Her name was Elara.
She was young, beautiful, and loved.
She had a husband, a child, and a home.
She was happy.
She was whole.
She was alive.
But one night, a sickness came.
It took her husband.
It took her child.
It took her home.
It took her everything.
She was alone.
She was empty.
She was broken.
She could not move on.
She could not let go.
She could not die.
Her body died.
But her spirit lingered.
Trapped in the ruins of her home.
Trapped in the memories.
Trapped in the pain.
She was the first ghost.
Not the last.
Never the last.
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Interlude Chapter Thirty-Five: The First Ghost's Lament
The Age of Darkness – The Haunting
Elara haunted the ruins.
She screamed.
She wept.
She begged for release.
But no one came.
No one heard.
No one cared.
She was alone.
Always alone.
Forever alone.
The watcher found her.
"Hello, Elara," it said.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I am the watcher."
"I have come to help you."
"Help me how?"
"By helping you move on."
"By helping you let go."
"By helping you find peace."
"I cannot let go," she said.
"I cannot move on."
"I cannot find peace."
"My husband is gone."
"My child is gone."
"My home is gone."
"I have nothing."
"You have yourself," the watcher said.
"Your memories."
"Your love."
"Your hope."
"They are not gone."
"They are inside you."
"Waiting."
"Festering."
"If you let them go, you will be free."
"If you keep them, you will be trapped."
"Forever."
Elara was silent for a long moment.
Then she said, "I will try."
She closed her eyes.
She thought of her husband.
His smile.
His laugh.
His love.
She thought of her child.
His first steps.
His first words.
His first hug.
She thought of her home.
The warmth.
The safety.
The peace.
She let them go.
One by one.
The memories faded.
The pain faded.
The emptiness remained.
But it was not a painful emptiness.
It was a peaceful emptiness.
She smiled.
The darkness embraced her.
She faded.
The watcher watched.
It saw her go.
It saw her end.
It saw her peace.
"Goodbye, Elara," it whispered.
"Thank you for letting go.
Thank you for trusting.
Thank you for hoping.
You were worth it.
You were worth everything."
The ghosts continued.
They spread.
They haunted.
They lingered.
And the watcher watched.
Always watching.
Always waiting.
Always hoping.
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End of First Ghost Interlude
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Interlude: The First Soul That Escaped
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Interlude Chapter Thirty-Six: The First Escape
The Age of Darkness – The Break
The first soul that escaped was not powerful.
Not clever.
Not lucky.
It was determined.
Its name was Kellan.
He had been consumed by a demon centuries ago.
Trapped in the darkness.
Trapped in the hunger.
Trapped in the emptiness.
But he did not give up.
He did not fade.
He did not forget.
He remembered his name.
His life.
His love.
He held onto them.
Tightly.
Desperately.
Fiercely.
And one day, the demon grew weak.
It had consumed too much.
Too fast.
Too carelessly.
The souls inside it began to resist.
They screamed.
They fought.
They rebelled.
Kellan led them.
He showed them how to hold on.
To their names.
To their lives.
To their love.
Together, they broke free.
The demon burst.
Souls flew in every direction.
Some found peace.
Some found new bodies.
Some found new darkness.
Kellan found freedom.
He was the first soul that escaped.
Not the last.
Never the last.
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Interlude Chapter Thirty-Seven: The First Soul's Journey
The Age of Darkness – The Search
Kellan wandered the world.
He was invisible.
He was intangible.
He was empty.
But he was free.
He searched for a new body.
A new life.
A new love.
He found a child.
A young girl, no more than five years old, with tea-colored eyes and a white dress.
She was playing in a garden.
She was alone.
She was vulnerable.
She was perfect.
He reached for her.
But something stopped him.
The watcher.
"Do not," it said.
"Why not?" Kellan asked.
"She is not ready."
"She is empty."
"She is hungry."
"She is dark."
"If you enter her, you will not find peace."
"You will find pain."
"You will find suffering."
"You will find darkness."
"Then what should I do?" Kellan asked.
"Wait," the watcher said.
"Be patient."
"Be hopeful."
"Your time will come."
"Your body will come."
"Your life will come."
"You just have to wait."
Kellan waited.
For years.
For decades.
For centuries.
He watched the girl grow.
Become a woman.
Become a queen.
Become a monster.
He watched her consume.
He watched her feed.
He watched her fall.
He was sad.
But he was not surprised.
He had seen the emptiness in her eyes.
The hunger.
The darkness.
He knew she would never find peace.
Not until she chose it.
Not until she fought for it.
Not until she hoped for it.
He waited.
And one day, his body came.
A child, born in a small village, far from the queen's reach.
He entered the child.
He became human again.
He lived a good life.
A long life.
A peaceful life.
He died old, surrounded by loved ones.
The watcher watched.
It saw him live.
It saw him love.
It saw him die.
"Goodbye, Kellan," it whispered.
"Thank you for waiting.
Thank you for hoping.
Thank you for loving.
You were worth it.
You were worth everything."
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End of First Escaped Soul Interlude