WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Book One: The Unblooded Lamb
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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 Sixteen: The Weight of Ten
Year 8 – One Week After the Tenth Sacrifice
The castle had changed.
Not physically. The stones were the same. The corridors were the same. The tapestries still hung on the walls, and the fires still burned in the hearths.
But something had shifted.
Something fundamental.
The air was heavier now. The shadows were deeper. The silence that fell when Princess Liora entered a room was no longer respectful—it was fearful.
No one knew why.
No one could explain it.
But everyone felt it.
The servants whispered among themselves, exchanging theories that went nowhere. The guards gripped their weapons a little tighter. The nobles made excuses to leave when the princess approached.
And Liora?
Liora basked in it.
Ten souls burned inside her now. Ten streams of darkness flowed through her veins. She could feel them constantly—a low thrum beneath her skin, a whisper at the edge of her consciousness, a hunger that never faded.
She was no longer alone.
She would never be alone again.
The dark was with her now.
Always.
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Liora – The New Normal
She woke each morning to the same routine.
Wash face. Braid hair. Choose a white dress.
Practice the smile.
But the smile was different now. Not in appearance—it still looked soft, gentle, innocent. But in feeling. It took effort now. Concentration. The mask no longer fit as easily as it once had.
The darkness wanted out.
It wanted to be seen.
Not yet, she told it. Not until I'm ready.
Not until no one can stop me.
The darkness grumbled but obeyed.
It had no choice.
She was the master.
Not the fool.
The master.
She went down to breakfast.
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The Breakfast Table
Her family was already seated.
Queen Elara at the head of the table, picking at a plate of fruit, her face drawn and tired. Prince Theron beside her, shoveling eggs into his mouth with the enthusiasm of a boy who had never known hunger. Prince Kael across from him, glowering at nothing, his fists clenched on the table. Prince Darian at the end, watching everyone with those quiet, observant eyes.
Liora took her seat.
"Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Theron. Good morning, Kael. Good morning, Darian."
Her voice was soft. Sweet. Forgettable.
Her mother nodded without looking up.
Theron grunted.
Kael ignored her.
Darian said, "Good morning, Liora."
He was the only one who ever responded.
She smiled at him. The soft smile. The innocent smile. The smile that had fooled everyone for eight years.
Darian smiled back.
But his eyes—his eyes—lingered on her face a moment too long.
He sees something, she thought.
Not what I am. Not yet. But something.
She had thought this before. Many times. Darian was observant. Darian was dangerous. Darian might need to be handled.
But not today.
Today, she would eat her porridge and smile at her family and pretend to be the sweet, simple princess they expected her to be.
The mask was heavy.
But she was used to the weight.
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Finn – The Observation
Finn watched the princess from his corner of the kitchen.
She was different now.
Not in obvious ways—she still wore white, still smiled softly, still spoke in that gentle, forgettable voice. But something had shifted. The way she moved. The way she held herself. The way the air seemed to bend around her.
She's becoming something, he thought.
Something not human.
He had stopped sleeping.
The nightmares came every night now. Not about Mira anymore. About the cellar. About the bodies. About the darkness that lived beneath the castle and the girl who fed it.
He saw their faces in his dreams.
Orin. Greta. Corin. The man by the river. Marta. Roran. Varek. Elara. The boy whose name he never learned.
And now Sir Aldous.
Ten faces.
Ten souls.
Ten reasons to be afraid.
I have to do something, he thought.
I have to tell someone.
But who would believe him?
He was eight years old. He had no proof. No evidence. Nothing but dreams and instincts and a terror that lived in his chest like a second heart.
No one, he thought.
No one ever.
He peeled his potatoes.
He kept his mouth shut.
He survived.
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Aldric – The Breaking Point
Aldric had stopped leaving the dormitory entirely.
He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for death. The other pages had stopped checking on him. The steward had stopped assigning him duties. He was a ghost now, like the victims in the cellar.
Ten, he thought.
She's killed ten people.
And I helped her.
The guilt was a physical weight on his chest. He could barely breathe. He could barely think. All he could do was lie there and remember the key in his hand, the door in the cellar, the smile on the princess's face.
I should tell someone, he thought.
I should confess.
I should—
But he didn't.
He was too afraid.
Not of punishment. Punishment would be a relief. Of her. Of what she would do to him if he spoke. Of the smile on her face when she watched him break.
She's going to kill me, he thought.
Not today. Not tomorrow. But someday.
When I'm no longer useful.
When I've stopped being interesting.
When I've become a liability.
He closed his eyes.
He did not sleep.
He did not dream.
He just waited.
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Liora – The Eleventh Victim
She chose a woman this time.
A prostitute from the lower town. Young. Desperate. Invisible.
Her name was Lyssa.
She had come to the castle town three months ago, fleeing a husband who beat her. She had no family, no friends, no one who would ask questions if she disappeared.
She was perfect.
Liora found her in the alley behind the brothel, smoking a pipe, staring at the stars.
"Excuse me."
Lyssa looked down. Saw a child in a white dress. Her expression shifted from surprise to suspicion.
"What do you want?"
"I need help," Liora said. "My mother is sick. She needs medicine. The healer is gone—she disappeared a few weeks ago. I don't know who else to ask."
Lyssa frowned.
"I'm not a healer."
"But you know things. You've lived here longer than me. You know where to find what I need."
Liora held up a silver coin.
"I'll pay you."
Lyssa looked at the coin. Looked at the child. Looked at the coin again.
"Where's your mother?"
"In the castle. I can take you to her."
Lyssa hesitated.
Then she nodded.
"All right. Lead the way."
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so kind.
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Lyssa – The Walk
The princess led her through the dark streets of the lower town.
Lyssa had lived in this town for three months. She knew the dangers. The thieves. The cutthroats. The men who thought a prostitute's life was worth less than a night's pleasure.
But she had never expected danger to wear a child's face.
She's just a girl, Lyssa told herself.
She needs help.
That's all.
But something felt wrong.
The princess was too calm. Too quiet. Too watchful. She moved through the darkness like she belonged there, like the shadows were her friends.
Stop it, Lyssa told herself. You're being paranoid.
She followed the princess through the castle gates, past the guards who nodded and didn't ask questions.
She followed her through the corridors, past the servants who averted their eyes.
She followed her to a door.
Old. Iron. Locked.
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The Eleventh Cellar
The princess produced a key.
"It's down here," she said. "My mother's private chambers. No one knows about this entrance."
Lyssa looked at the door. Looked at the princess. Looked at the key in her small, pale hand.
"After you," she said.
The princess shook her head.
"I'm scared of the dark. You go first. I'll follow."
Lyssa hesitated.
Then she took the key.
She opened the door.
She walked down the steps.
She did not walk back up.
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Lyssa – The Realization
She heard the door close behind her.
She heard the lock click.
She turned around. The princess was not behind her.
"Princess?"
Silence.
"PRINCESS!"
She ran up the steps. Pounded on the door. Her fists were no match for iron and wood.
"LET ME OUT!"
Silence.
She stood in the darkness, her heart pounding, her breath coming in gasps.
Why? she thought. Why would a child do this?
She did not understand.
She would never understand.
The darkness pressed against her.
The cold seeped into her bones.
And the princess did not open the door.
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Liora – The Eleventh Ritual
She waited only an hour.
Lyssa was young, but she was weak. Desperation had hollowed her out. Fear had broken her long before she ever walked into the cellar.
By the time Liora descended the stairs, the woman was already weeping.
"Please," Lyssa said. "I'll do anything. Just let me go."
Liora set down her lantern.
She opened her book.
"You should have thought of that before you followed a stranger into a cellar."
"Please—"
She was faster.
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The Power – Eleven
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Eleven sacrifices. Eleven souls. Eleven streams of darkness flowing into her, merging with her blood, becoming part of her.
She raised her hand.
The shadows answered.
They came faster now. More eagerly. They wrapped around her arms, her throat, her face. She could feel them pressing against her lips, begging to be released.
More, they whispered. We need more.
Soon, she thought.
Soon.
She released the spell.
The shadows retreated.
She looked at the body.
A prostitute. Young. Desperate. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The Disposal
She burned Lyssa's body with the others.
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 returned to her chamber as the sun rose, smelling of smoke and blood and darkness.
She washed her face.
She braided her hair.
She chose a white dress.
She practiced her smile.
Eyes wide. Innocence.
Mouth soft. Gentleness.
Head tilted. Curiosity.
Perfect, she thought.
She went down to breakfast.
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Finn – The Morning
Finn saw her at breakfast.
She was sitting with her family, eating porridge, smiling at her brothers. Her dress was white. Her hair was braided. Her face was soft and sweet and completely ordinary.
But Finn saw something else.
Something in her posture.
Something in the way she held her spoon.
She killed again, he thought.
Last night.
Someone else.
He looked at her eyes.
They were the same as always. Weak tea. Soft. Innocent.
But for a moment—just a moment—he saw something else.
A flicker of hunger.
Then it was gone.
He looked away.
He did not want to see.
He ate his bread and kept his mouth shut and prayed that she would never look at him the way she had looked at the others.
But he knew she would.
Eventually.
They all did.
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Aldric – The News
Aldric heard about the latest disappearance from the other pages.
"Another one," they whispered. "A woman from the lower town. No one knows her name."
"Probably ran off with a merchant."
"Or got killed by a customer."
"No one cares."
Aldric cared.
He lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling and added another name to the list in his head.
Eleven, he thought.
Eleven people.
Dead because of me.
He closed his eyes.
He wanted to die.
But he was too afraid to do it himself.
So he waited.
Just like she wanted.
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Liora – The Evening
She sat in her chamber, reading by candlelight.
The old texts were clear now. Every word. Every meaning. Every secret.
Eleven sacrifices strengthen the bond. Twelve deepen it. Thirteen make it unbreakable.
The dark will never leave you now.
It is part of you.
You are part of it.
Forever.
She closed the book.
Eighty-nine more, she thought.
Eighty-nine more until the curse.
Eighty-nine more until forever.
She looked at her reflection in the window.
The girl who looked back was not a girl.
Not anymore.
She was something else.
Something more.
Something that the world had never seen before.
Eighty-nine more, she thought.
And then—
Then the real work begins.
She smiled.
The darkness smiled with her.
And somewhere in the depths of the castle, in a cellar that no one visited and no one remembered, eleven souls whispered her name.
Liora.
Liora.
Liora.
She heard them.
She always heard them.
They were hers now.
Forever.
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End of Chapter Sixteen