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 Twenty-One: The Isolation
Year 8 – One Year After the First Sacrifice
A year.
It had been one year since Liora Veyne had killed her first human being. One year since she had stood in the cellar with blood on her hands and power in her veins and the terrible, beautiful knowledge that she was more than the people around her.
She had been seven years old then.
Now she was eight.
Almost nine.
And she had killed fifteen people.
Fifteen souls fed to the darkness.
Fifteen streams of power flowing through her blood.
She was stronger now. Faster. Sharper. The dark had begun to reshape her, not just inside but out. Her skin was paler. Her eyes were darker. Her movements were smoother, more deliberate, like a predator who had finally stopped pretending to be prey.
She hid it well.
The mask still held.
But the cracks were spreading.
And soon—very soon—she would not need to hide at all.
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Liora – The New Power
She had learned new spells.
The old texts were clearer now, the words almost singing to her as she read. Fifteen sacrifices had opened doors she had not known existed.
She could now:
· Extinguish flames with a thought.
· Move small objects without touching them.
· Hear whispers from across the castle.
· See in darkness as if it were daylight.
And more.
Much more.
But she was careful.
She practiced only in the cellar, where no one could see. She used her powers only when she was alone. She never let the mask slip—not where anyone could witness it.
Patience, she reminded herself.
Patience and precision.
The dark is patient.
So must I be.
But the hunger was growing harder to control.
Fifteen souls had whetted her appetite. She wanted more. Needed more. The dark whispered to her constantly now, a thousand voices speaking as one.
Feed us.
Feed us.
Feed us.
Soon, she promised.
Soon.
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Darian – The Vigil
Darian had become a ghost.
He followed his sister everywhere—not closely, not where she could see him. From a distance. In the shadows. Watching.
He had learned her patterns.
She rose at dawn. She ate breakfast with the family. She spent the morning in the library or the garden. She took lunch in her chamber. She spent the afternoon walking—through the castle, through the lower town, through the places where vulnerable people gathered.
And at night—
At night, she hunted.
He had seen her do it. Twice now. He had watched her approach strangers in the dark, speak to them in her soft voice, lead them toward the castle.
He had followed them to the cellar door.
He had watched them go in.
He had watched her come out.
Alone.
Fifteen, he thought.
Fifteen people.
And I couldn't stop any of them.
The guilt was crushing. He should have done something. Screamed. Run for help. Anything.
But what could he have done?
He was eight years old. She was eight years old. Who would believe him?
No one, he thought.
No one ever.
But he kept watching.
Because watching was all he could do.
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Finn – The Messenger
Finn had become the link between Darian and the truth.
He could not read or write, but he could remember. Every name. Every face. Every disappearance. He kept the list in his head, updating it each time he heard of someone new.
Fifteen, he thought.
Fifteen people.
And she's not going to stop.
He met Darian in the library at night, when the castle was asleep. They sat in the dark, whispering, planning.
"We need more proof," Darian said.
"We need someone to believe us," Finn said.
"Who?"
"I don't know. The steward? The captain of the guard? Your mother?"
Darian shook his head.
"My mother won't listen. She thinks I'm imagining things."
"Then we need someone else. Someone with power. Someone she can't ignore."
They thought for a long moment.
Then Finn said, "Your father."
Darian looked up.
"The king?"
"He's not here now. But he will be. Eventually. He has to be."
Darian nodded slowly.
"The king," he repeated. "Yes. He might listen. He might do something."
"Then we wait," Finn said. "We watch. We gather more proof. And when he comes back—"
"We tell him everything."
They sat in silence.
Two boys.
One monster.
And a plan that might get them both killed.
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Liora – The Sixteenth Victim
She chose a man this time.
A tanner from the lower town. His name was Gared. He was young, strong, and desperate. His business was failing. His wife had left him. His children were hungry.
He was perfect.
Liora found him in his workshop, late at night, alone.
"Excuse me."
Gared looked up. His eyes were red.
"What do you want?"
"I need your help," she said. "My mother—the queen—she needs new leather. Gloves. Boots. She's very particular."
Gared frowned.
"The queen?"
"Yes. She asked me to find someone. Someone skilled. Someone discreet."
Liora held up a silver coin.
"I'll pay you double her usual rate."
Gared looked at the coin. Looked at the child. Looked at the coin again.
"Where is she?"
"In the castle. I can take you to her."
Gared hesitated.
Then he nodded.
"Let me get my tools."
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so kind.
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Gared – The Cellar
The princess led him through the dark streets of the lower town.
Gared had lived in this town his whole life. He knew every alley, every courtyard, every hidden passage. But tonight, the streets felt wrong. The shadows seemed deeper than they should be. The silence seemed heavier than it should be.
It's just my imagination, he told himself.
I'm tired. I haven't been sleeping.
But his instincts—the ones that had kept him alive through thirty years of hard living—were screaming at him to turn back.
Something is wrong, they whispered.
Something is very wrong.
He looked at the princess.
She was walking ahead of him, small and pale, her white dress ghostly in the darkness. She seemed so innocent. So helpless.
She's just a child, he told himself.
She needs help.
That's all.
He ignored the screaming in his gut.
He kept walking.
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The Sixteenth Cellar
The door was old. Iron. Locked.
The princess produced a key.
"The queen's chambers are down here," she said. "Private entrance. No one knows about it."
Gared looked at the door. Looked at the princess. Looked at the key in her small, pale hand.
"After you," he said.
The princess shook her head.
"I'm not allowed. The queen would be angry. You go first. I'll follow."
Gared hesitated.
Then he took the key.
He opened the door.
He walked down the steps.
He did not walk back up.
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The Sixteenth Ritual
Liora waited two hours.
Gared was strong, but he was not a fighter. His screams were loud, his pounding was fierce, but he did not know how to break a door or fight in darkness.
By the time she descended the stairs, he was on his knees, praying.
"Please," he said. "I have children. They need me."
Liora set down her lantern.
She opened her book.
"Then you shouldn't have followed a stranger into a cellar."
"Please—"
She was faster.
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The Power – Sixteen
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Sixteen sacrifices. Sixteen souls. Sixteen 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 inside her, in her lungs, in her stomach, in her mind.
More, they whispered. We need more.
Soon, she thought.
Soon.
She released the spell.
The shadows retreated.
She looked at the body.
A tanner. Strong. Desperate. Dead.
No one is safe from me, she thought.
No one.
She smiled in the darkness.
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The King's Return
The king returned the next day.
He had been in the northern provinces for months, hunting and whoring and ignoring his family. He was tanned and tired and reeked of wine.
Darian met him at the gates.
"Father."
The king looked down at his son.
"Darian. You've grown."
"Father, I need to speak with you. It's urgent."
The king frowned.
"Can it wait? I've been traveling for weeks. I need a bath and a meal and a bed."
"No," Darian said. "It can't wait. It's about Liora."
The king's frown deepened.
"What about her?"
"She's hurting people. She's been hurting people for months. I have proof."
The king stared at him for a long moment.
Then he said, "We'll speak in my chambers. After I've eaten."
He walked past Darian into the castle.
Darian followed.
His heart was pounding.
He has to believe me, he thought.
He has to.
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The King – The Conversation
The king listened.
He sat in his chair, eating a plate of meat, while Darian talked. The boy spoke for nearly an hour, telling him everything. The cellar. The disappearances. The symbols. The smell of smoke in the mornings.
When he finished, the king set down his fork.
"You're telling me that your eight-year-old sister is a murderer."
"Yes."
"That she's killed sixteen people."
"Yes."
"That she's been doing this for a year."
"Yes."
The king leaned back in his chair.
"Darian, do you hear yourself?"
"I hear myself. I know how it sounds. But it's true."
The king sighed.
"You've always been an imaginative child. Too many books. Too much time alone."
"This isn't imagination. I've seen her—"
"You've seen what you wanted to see."
Darian stared at him.
"Father—"
"Enough. I don't want to hear any more of this. Liora is a child. Your sister. You will not speak of her this way."
Darian's hands began to shake.
"Father, please—"
"I said enough."
The king stood up.
"Go to your room. Get some rest. We'll speak no more of this."
Darian stood in the doorway, his heart pounding.
He doesn't believe me, he thought.
No one believes me.
No one ever believes me.
He turned and left.
He did not go to his room.
He went to the library.
He had a journal to write.
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Liora – The Evening
She sat in her chamber, reading by candlelight.
The king had returned.
Darian had spoken to him.
And the king had not believed.
Predictable, she thought. People believe what they want to believe. And no one wants to believe that a child is a monster.
She was safe.
For now.
But Darian would not stop.
He would keep watching. Keep following. Keep gathering evidence.
Eventually, he would find something he could use.
Unless—
She stopped the thought.
No. Not yet.
But soon.
Very soon.
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, sixteen 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 Twenty-One