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-Eight: The Unraveling of Darian
Year 9 – Two Years After the First Sacrifice
Two years.
Twenty-two kills.
A cellar full of ashes and shadows.
And Liora Veyne, age nine, had never been more powerful.
The dark had settled into her like a second skin. She no longer had to reach for it—it was always there, thrumming beneath her consciousness, ready to answer her call. The shadows bent to her will. The whispers of the dead were constant now, a chorus that sang her praises in voices only she could hear.
She was becoming something other than human.
Not a monster—monsters were crude, mindless, driven by instinct. She was something worse. Something that wore a human face and spoke with a human voice and smiled with human lips while the darkness devoured everything in its path.
The old texts called this stage The Transformation.
At twenty-five sacrifices, the flesh begins to change. At thirty, the blood. At forty, the bones.
At fifty, you will no longer be able to call yourself human.
At seventy-five, you will be something new.
At one hundred—
She closed the book.
Soon, she thought.
Soon.
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Liora – The Twenty-Third Victim
She chose a man this time.
A cobbler from the lower town. His name was Willem. He was middle-aged, skilled, and invisible. He worked alone in a small shop, repairing shoes for the castle servants.
No one would miss him.
Not immediately. The servants would notice the missing repairs, but they would assume he had fallen ill or found better work. By the time anyone thought to look for him, his body would be ash.
He was perfect.
But this time, Liora did something different.
She watched him through her inner eye.
The threads of fate around him were tangled, knotted, dark. He had debts. Enemies. A gambling problem that had ruined his marriage and alienated his children.
He was already dying.
Not physically—but spiritually. He had given up. He was just waiting for the end.
I'm doing him a favor, she thought.
Putting him out of his misery.
He should thank me.
She approached him in his shop, late at night, when the streets were empty.
"Willem?"
The cobbler looked up. His eyes were red, unfocused.
"What do you want?"
"I need your help," Liora said. "My mother—the queen—she needs new shoes. Something special. Something no one else can make."
Willem laughed bitterly.
"The queen? She wouldn't wear shoes made by the likes of me."
"She would if I told her to."
Liora held up a silver coin.
"I'll pay you triple her usual rate."
Willem 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."
Willem hesitated.
Then he nodded.
"Let me get my tools."
Liora smiled.
Thank you, she thought.
You're so kind.
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Willem – The Cellar
The princess led him through the dark streets of the lower town.
Willem 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 the drink, he told himself.
I've had too much.
But his instincts—the ones that had kept him alive through forty 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 Twenty-Third 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."
Willem 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."
Willem 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 Twenty-Third Ritual
Liora waited only an hour.
Willem was already broken. His screams were half-hearted, his pounding was weak. By the time she descended the stairs, he was sitting on the floor, staring at nothing.
"Are you going to kill me?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Good."
Liora paused.
"You want to die?"
"I've wanted to die for years. I was just too much of a coward to do it myself."
Liora looked at him for a long moment.
Interesting, she thought.
A victim who welcomes death.
Will his soul taste different?
She set down her lantern.
She opened her book.
"Thank you for your soul," she said.
He closed his eyes.
She was faster.
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The Power – Twenty-Three
The fire in her veins burned brighter.
Twenty-three sacrifices. Twenty-three souls. Twenty-three 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 cobbler. Broken. Willing. Dead.
His soul tasted different, she thought.
Weaker. Less desperate.
But still useful.
She smiled in the darkness.
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Darian – The Confrontation
Darian had decided to confront the princess again.
Not in the library this time. In the cellar. With witnesses.
He had told Finn to bring the captain of the guard. He had told the captain to bring his best men. He had told them that there was evidence of a crime in the old cellar—evidence that would shock the kingdom.
The captain had been skeptical.
But Darian had been insistent.
And the captain, tired of the disappearances and the fear and the whispers, had agreed to come.
They gathered at the tapestry.
Darian pushed it aside.
"The stairs are here."
The captain peered into the darkness.
"I don't see anything."
"The stairs are there. I've been down them before."
The captain hesitated.
Then he drew his sword.
"Follow me."
He stepped onto the stairs.
The wood groaned.
He took another step.
The darkness seemed to thicken around him.
He took another step—
And stopped.
"Captain?"
The captain was pale.
"There's something down there," he said. "Something wrong."
"We need to see it."
The captain nodded.
He kept walking.
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The Cellar – The Revelation
The cellar was empty.
No bodies. No blood. No symbols.
The floor was clean. The walls were clean. The air was cold and still and ordinary.
Darian stared.
"But—there were symbols. Burned into the floor. I saw them."
The captain looked at him.
"Are you sure, boy?"
"I'm sure. I saw them. I touched them."
The captain shook his head.
"There's nothing here. Just an empty cellar."
"She cleaned it. She must have known we were coming."
The captain sighed.
"Boy, I want to believe you. I do. But there's no evidence. No bodies. No symbols. Nothing."
Darian's hands were shaking.
"She's hiding it. She's hiding everything."
The captain put a hand on his shoulder.
"Come. Let's get you back to your room. You need rest."
Darian pulled away.
"I don't need rest. I need someone to believe me."
The captain looked at him for a long moment.
Then he said, "I believe that you believe what you're saying. But belief isn't proof."
He turned and climbed the stairs.
His men followed.
Darian stood in the cellar, alone.
She knew, he thought.
She knew we were coming.
She cleaned everything.
She's always one step ahead.
He climbed the stairs.
He walked back to his room.
He did not sleep.
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Liora – The Evening
Liora sat in her chamber, reading by candlelight.
She had known about Darian's plan.
The whispers had told her. The twenty-three souls who served her now had ears in every corner of the castle. They had heard Darian talking to Finn. They had heard Finn talking to the captain. They had heard everything.
She had spent the night cleaning the cellar.
Scrubbing the symbols. Erasing the evidence. Making the room look as ordinary as any other cellar in the castle.
By the time the captain arrived, there was nothing to find.
Fool, she thought.
Did he really think I would let him catch me?
She closed the book.
She looked at her reflection.
The girl in the mirror looked back.
But the girl was fading.
Something else was taking her place.
Something older.
Something hungrier.
Soon, she thought.
Soon.
She smiled.
The darkness smiled with her.
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End of Chapter Twenty-Eight