Page 10 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

The path through the forest is familiar, each twist and turn as well-known to me as the lines on my palms. It’s strange how, once something shows you what’s possible, the world seems to shift.

Paths you’ve walked a hundred times suddenly hint at new destinations, and the ordinary feels charged with potential.

The forest, once just a place of childhood adventure, now holds a mystery I’m only beginning to understand.

I can still feel the residual tingle of the power that surged through me, the way it lit up the night and banished the hellhound mid-lunge.

The image of the beast, with its dark fur and glowing red eyes, is cemented into my memory.

“Could it really have been a hellhound?” I whisper to the wind, kicking at a loose stone on the path.

The stories Kendry told me flood back. Tales of creatures from the dark realms, of magic and power, of battles fought and kingdoms lost. They always seemed like just that—stories. But now, I’m not so sure.

I find a quiet spot by the edge of a small river and sit down, staring into the clear water as it ripples over the rocks.

The dagger I found feels heavier with every passing second.

I pull it out and turn it over in my hands, tracing the intricate design for what feels like the hundredth time.

I should have told Kendry the truth. But how could I?

He’s always been my anchor, my guide—but his half-truths have left me questioning everything.

How can I trust him to help me find answers when he’s spent so long keeping parts of the story hidden?

No, this is something I need to unravel on my own.

These dreams, this dagger—they’re mine. My experience, my reality, unclouded by outside opinions or Kendry’s cautious retellings.

For once, I want the truth, unfiltered. If that means stepping into the unknown alone, so be it.

Maybe I am losing it. Or maybe... I’m finally finding something real.

I roll up my sleeve to look at my forearm again. The mark catches the light as I trace it with my finger, feeling a strange connection to it. What does it mean? Is it connected to the power that burst from me last night?

I lean back against a tree, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. The forest is alive—birds chirping, leaves rustling, squirrels scampering, and chipmunks chattering. I even spot a cardinal flitting between the branches. For a moment, I let myself just be, pushing away the confusion and fear.

As I focus on the tranquility of the forest, a sense of calm washes over me, clearing my mind and allowing clarity to take root.

I think of the gods in my stories, drawing strength from them.

I call out to Eldorin for his insight and Valtris for his strength, embracing their qualities and finding them within.

With this renewed sense of determination, I stand up and tuck the dagger back into my pocket.

With all the excitement from last night, I almost forgot about the festival today.

The village is already alive with activity by the time I arrive.

The quaint rustic houses, with thatched roofs and stone chimneys, are adorned with garlands of autumn leaves and vibrant flowers.

Cobblestone streets are lined with stalls, each one bursting with colorful goods and enticing aromas.

The air is filled with the scent of fresh baked goods, roasted meats, and the sound of laughter and music.

It’s like the whole village decided to throw a party just to distract me from my existential crisis.

As I navigate through the festival looking for my friends, the familiar sight of Mr. Whitfield catches my eye. His weathered face lights up with recognition as he spots me approaching.

“Eva! My dear,” he exclaims warmly, his voice barely audible over the festival clamor. He adjusts his spectacles, his eyes darting around with unease. He clears his throat before speaking, his tone low and cautious.

“Eva, I wanted to tell you something,” he begins, leaning closer as if to shield his words from prying ears.

“Earlier today, a peculiar gentleman came by, asking about your stories. He seemed awfully curious, too curious, if you ask me. Wanted to know who wrote them, where you get your ideas.” He pauses, frowning slightly.

“I must admit, he gave me a bad feeling. Something about him didn’t sit right. ”

I furrow my brow, a chill running down my spine. “What did he look like?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Whitfield hesitates, his gaze flickering around again as if expecting the man to reappear. “Tall, with penetrating eyes that seemed to see right through you,” he murmurs. “Not the kind of fellow you’d forget, that’s for certain.”

Unease settles in my stomach, mingling with the remnants of adrenaline from my earlier encounter. “Thank you for telling me, Mr. Whitfield,” I say earnestly, though my thoughts race with questions. Who could be so interested in my stories, and why now? Could it be connected to last night?

Mr. Whitfield nods, his expression grave. “Be careful, Eva,” he advises, his voice tinged with concern. “There’s more to this world than meets the eye.”

As I make my way through the bustling streets, I spot Garet near the fountain, his familiar figure standing out in the crowd. He catches sight of me and waves, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“Eva!” he calls out, his voice cutting through the noise of the festival.

I quicken my pace, weaving through the crowd of people. “Hey, Garet, fancy seeing you here,” I joke, returning his smile as I reach him.

Garet laughs—a sound that used to brighten my day, but right now, it’s just… irritating. As we weave through the market, he launches into his usual list of events like clockwork. “Huge feast, lots of dancing, a bonfire. You joining in?”

I roll my eyes before I can stop myself. “Do you really have to go through the whole itinerary every single time? I think I’ve got it memorized by now.”

The words come out sharper than I intended, and I catch the brief flash of surprise on his face. I force a sigh, immediately regretting it. “Sorry, that was... I’m just tired.”

He shrugs, giving me a small, forgiving smile. “Long night, I take it?”

“Something like that,” I mutter, trying to shake off the tension. Garet, thankfully, doesn’t press, glancing over at the food stalls instead. “If I know Finn, he’s already in line for food,” he says with an easy grin. “Let’s see if he saved any for the rest of us.”

Despite his smile, my thoughts keep drifting back to the events of the previous night. I contemplate telling Garet about it, but dismiss the idea just as quickly. He would never believe me.

We continue to explore the various stalls on our way to the food tent, sampling treats and admiring the crafts on display.

At one point, we pass by a booth selling herbal remedies, and Garet glances at me with a knowing smile.

“You should get Kendry something from here. Maybe it’ll put him in a good mood and he won’t make you train as hard. ”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I doubt that, but it’s worth a try.” I stuff a bag of crushed up lavender in my pocket to give to Kendry later. It’s his favorite extra to his tea.

As we continue through the festival, I find myself scanning the crowd, my eyes darting from face to face, searching for any sign of the man from last night.

Each time I don’t spot him, a pang of disappointment settles in my chest. It’s silly, I tell myself, to think he would be here, blending in with the villagers. Yet, I can’t help but hope.

Garet notices and raises an eyebrow. “Looking for someone?”

I force another laugh. “No, just taking it all in.”

We wander to the food tent, where long tables are laden with a bountiful spread of roasted meats, fresh vegetables, and decadent pastries. The aroma is intoxicating, and my stomach rumbles in response. Garet hands me a plate, and we help ourselves to the delicious offerings.

As we look for a seat, I spot Nessa and Finn, their faces lighting up as they see us.

“Hey, you two!” Nessa calls out, waving enthusiastically.

“Finally, we find you guys,” Finn adds, a grin spreading across his face.

Garet glances at Finn’s empty plate and jokes, “Looks like you were searching pretty hard, judging by that empty plate.”

Finn laughs. “Hey, I work up an appetite when I’m on a mission. Besides, it’s not my fault the food was too good to resist.”

We join the table, our plates hitting the oak with a solid thud as conversation quickly picks up around us, laughter and teasing filling the space.

Nessa leans over, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Eva, you are dancing tonight, right?”

I roll my eyes. “Dancing’s just... not my thing, Nessa. I’d rather focus on the food.” I gesture to my overflowing plate.

Finn chuckles. “Oh, come on. You’re just afraid your moves will leave us all in awe. Don’t be shy.”

I snort, trying to play it off. “Right. I’m sparing you all from the terror that is my dancing skills. You’re welcome.”

Garet gives me a smirk. “So generous of you. Rumor has it you’re such a danger on the dance floor that a new festival rule might be in order.”

I shoot him a look, trying not to smile. “You’re hilarious, really.”

But Nessa isn’t letting it drop. She nudges me with a grin. “Come on. Just one dance? For old times’ sake?”

I sigh, feigning reluctance even as I feel my face heat up. “Fine. But if anyone’s toes get stepped on, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Garet grins, clearly pleased. “Noted. One dance, no complaints—though I might regret it.”

As the night deepens, the energy around us grows even more festive.

Music fills the air, and laughter echoes through the streets, blending with the rhythmic clapping of hands and the cheerful shouts of children playing.

It’s like the whole village collectively decided to forget their troubles for one night.

Dusk settles, and Garet and I find a spot near the center of it all, the bonfire crackling and sending flickers of light into the sky.

Lanterns cast warm glows on the smiling faces around us, and musicians play with a fervor that draws everyone closer.

As we head toward the dance floor, the music shifts into a slow, steady rhythm, and Finn throws me a mischievous grin before darting off.

“Gotta go find the ladies,” he declares, vanishing into the crowd.

Nessa rolls her eyes, but trails after him with a sigh. “Someone’s got to make sure he doesn’t end up in the middle of another disaster,” she mutters, giving me a wink before she disappears, too.

That leaves me and Garet, standing just off the dance floor as couples drift into place. I feel my cheeks heat up as he raises an eyebrow and extends a hand. “You promised one dance,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

I try for a lighthearted quip to deflect the butterflies in my stomach. “Oh, I thought I’d be dancing with all of you. You know, as a group effort.”

But Garet’s expression softens as he looks at me, and for a moment, my nerves melt away. I sigh and place my hand in his, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapping gently around mine as he leads me out onto the floor.

We fall into the slow, swaying rhythm, and for a few beats, I lose myself in the easy grace of it. Garet’s hand rests carefully at my waist, and he meets my gaze with a grin. “You’re not that bad, you know.”

“Oh, just ‘not that bad?’ High praise.”

He laughs, giving me a gentle twirl that leaves me both dizzy and giddy. “I’m serious. If you wanted to, you could show them all up.”

“Oh, please, I’m practically a hazard out here,” I say in a mock-serious tone, glancing down at our feet. “If we get through this without me tripping, it’s a miracle.”

His smile widens, and I notice the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. “In that case, I’ll risk it. You’re worth a miracle or two.”

His words take me by surprise, a spark of heat flaring in my cheeks as I stifle a nervous laugh, my mind scrambling for a witty comeback that doesn’t quite materialize.

The song winds to an end, and the warmth of his gaze lingers as he steps back. “All right, I’m calling it quits while I’m ahead. I’m going to grab a drink.”

“I’ll get it for you,” he offers. “You find us a spot, and I’ll be right back.”

I slip away, letting the cool night air brush over my cheeks as I find an empty bench near the edge of the square.

Settling down, I glance back at the crowd, a feeling of quiet contentment washing over me.

I spot Nessa and Finn—she’s trying to drag him into a dance while he stumbles with exaggerated reluctance.

Nessa’s infectious energy, her laughter ringing out above the music, and Finn’s playful demeanor, always ready with a joke or a witty comment.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Garet weaving his way back through the crowd, balancing two cups in his hands.

I let myself really look at him—the easy way he moves, the confidence in his smile, the warmth that seems to follow him.

I feel the tug of possibility, wondering if maybe I could find a place by his side, the kind of life where I’d belong.

Traveling, trading, discovering new places and people along the way.

It would be a good life, comfortable, a far cry from last night’s chaos.

But as much as I try to picture it, I can’t help but find myself comparing him to the mysterious man.

Garet’s comforting presence is familiar, like a warm blanket on a cold night.

Yet, there was something about the man from last night that stirred something deep within me.

A sense of excitement, of the unknown, of a world beyond the one I’ve always known.

Sure, merchants lead relatively interesting lives compared to shoemakers; they travel from town to town, experiencing the world in all its variety.

But this man... he felt like a gateway to a realm I’ve never dreamed of.

Just then, Garet returns, breaking me from my thoughts. “Here you go,” he says, handing me a drink, his grin warm and easy.

I thank him, and as I lift the cup to my lips, he reaches out, brushing a stray piece of hair from my eyes that I hadn’t even realized was there.

The simple gesture sends a spark through me, catching me off guard.

There’s a moment of silence between us, and I see a change in his expression—the playfulness fading into something softer, almost tender, as he holds my gaze.

The drinks are forgotten as he leans closer, his hand still lingering by my cheek. His eyes search mine, and I can feel my heart begin to race. Then, without a word, he closes the distance between us and kisses me.