Page 11 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

For a moment, time stops. His lips are soft and tentative, and I close my eyes, trying to summon a feeling—any feeling. I brace myself for the rush of emotions, the sparks I’ve read about, the thrill and fluttering that are supposed to follow a kiss.

But the rush never comes. There’s no spark, no thrill. Just a hollow emptiness that catches me off guard. His touch is gentle, yet distant, as if an invisible barrier keeps us apart. I wait for the flutter in my chest, for warmth to spread through me—but instead, all I feel is a cold detachment.

When he pulls away, he looks at me expectantly, opening his mouth to say something.

But before he can, a scream pierces the air.

My head whips around to see people running, their faces nothing but terror.

Despite the chaos, I can’t help but feel a sense of relief.

Whatever’s happening, at least it spares me from this awkward, uncomfortable conversation.

“What’s happening?” Garet shouts, standing up and looking around frantically.

My heart leaps into my throat as I spot the source of the chaos.

From the shadows, hellhounds emerge, their blood-red eyes gleaming as I remember them.

But this time, they’re not alone. Accompanying them are figures—dark, nebulous shapes that seem to absorb the light, their forms shifting and writhing like living shadows, their outlines barely visible against the night.

Shrieks rip through the night, shattering the festive air in an instant.

People scatter, their joy replaced by sheer terror.

The hellhounds snarl, snapping at anyone who stumbles too close, their eyes blazing with hunger.

Amid the chaos, something else emerges—vague, flickering shapes that seem to waver between existence and nothingness.

Their forms shift like smoke caught in a restless breeze, never fully solid but unmistakably menacing.

Where their faces should be, there’s only darkness—voids that swallow the light and leave behind a bone-deep chill.

Their movements are unnervingly smooth, gliding rather than walking, as though the world itself recoils from their presence.

Shadows twist and deepen in their wake, the air growing heavier, as if they drag an unnatural darkness with them, suffocating everything in their path.

Garet grabs my arm, his eyes wide with fear and something else I can’t identify. “Eva, we need to get out of here. Now.”

I nod, my mind racing. The memory of the previous night’s encounter floods back. Instinctively, I reach for the dagger I found, its weight reassuring in my hand.

“We need to find Finn and Nessa,” I say urgently, scanning the crowd for any sign of them.

“There’s no time!” Garet shouts, his eyes wide with urgency. “I’m sure they’re safe, but we need to get the hell out of here.”

Before I can argue, the hellhounds are upon us. Garet moves with surprising agility, using a sword he must have taken from one of the festival guards. He slashes at the hellhounds, his face a mask of determination.

“What are those things?” I yell, pointing at one of the dark, shifting figures.

“Shadowfiends,” Garet whispers, “they shouldn’t be here.”

Before I can process what he means, the fiends strike.

One of them lunges, stretching out an elongated, clawed arm that cuts through the air like a blade, aiming right for me.

I barely dodge, feeling the cold bite of its shadowy claws pass inches from my face.

The creatures are relentless, weaving around Garet’s strikes, circling us with eerie patience, as if testing our defenses.

I manage to get a few solid swipes in, even take down one of the hellhounds, but it’s not enough.

The shadowfiends hover just out of reach, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Their forms twist and ripple, drifting closer in eerie silence, then suddenly lunging forward with deadly accuracy, their shadowy tendrils slashing and clutching, leaving icy trails across my skin that burn like frostbite.

Garet fights protectively in front of me, his sword flashing through the darkness with precise, practiced movements.

“Stay behind me,” he commands, his voice steady even as chaos erupts around us.

The hellhounds snarl and snap, eyes glowing with malevolence, while Garet moves like a seasoned warrior, each swing calculated and deadly.

I’ve never seen him like this, and it’s both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

“Garet, look out!” I scream as a hellhound lunges.

He spins just in time, his sword slicing through the air, but the creature’s claws catch his arm, raking deep.

Blood spatters onto the ground, and Garet stumbles, clutching the wound, pain contorting his face.

But he doesn’t falter. With a roar, he drives forward, plunging his blade into the nearest hellhound, the creature dissolving into smoke as his sword cleaves through its center.

“We need to get out of here,” Garet says, his breath coming in heavy pants, not bothering to look at his arm. “There are too many of them.”

“But the others,” I plead, “we have to help them.”

“My only concern at the moment is you. There is nothing we can do for the others. It’s unfortunate and tragic, but it is what it is.” Garet says with such finality in his tone, I literally flinch.

The merchant’s son I knew mere minutes ago is long gone.

I allow myself a few seconds to look around and truly digest what is happening around me.

The village, usually a peaceful haven, has transformed into a scene of utter chaos.

The once orderly rows of quaint, thatched-roof cottages are now marred by flames and shadows.

Villagers run in all directions; their faces etched with terror.

The smell of thick smoke and fabric hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of fear and desperation. The true definition of a nightmare.

In the midst of this chaos, the remaining villagers huddle together in small groups, their eyes wide with fear.

Parents clutch their children close, trying to shield them from the horrors unfolding around them.

Elderly villagers, their movements slowed by age, struggle to keep up with the younger, more agile townsfolk, their faces lined with panic and despair.

Despite the danger, a few brave souls attempt to fight back.

Armed with whatever they can find—pitchforks, kitchen knives, even heavy branches—they stand their ground, determined to protect their homes and loved ones.

Their efforts, though valiant, are no match for the hellhounds and shadowfiends, who continue to wreak havoc with terrifying efficiency. Tears start to streak down my face.

Fires rage uncontrollably, casting an eerie glow over the scene.

The bonfire that once served as the centerpiece of the festival has become a source of destruction, its flames spreading to nearby structures and igniting the night with a sinister light.

The heat is intense, the crackling of burning wood interspersed with the occasional collapse of a roof or wall.

Frantically, I scan the crowd, my vision blurred with tears, searching for Nessa and Finn.

My heart pounds harder with each passing second, but I see no sign of them.

Panic grips me, cold and paralyzing. I want to scream their names, to claw through the chaos until I find them, but suddenly Garet’s hand clamps around my arm, his voice urgent. “We have to go, now!”

“No!” I wrench my arm free, my voice cracking with raw emotion. “I’m not leaving without them! Nessa and Finn—they’re out there! They need me!”

“They’ll be fine!” he snaps, trying to pull me again.

“You don’t know that!” I yell, my voice trembling with anger and fear. “You’re just going to abandon them? After everything? I thought you cared!”

“I do care,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes fierce. “But staying here gets us all killed. You have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” I spit, fury bubbling to the surface. “You’re asking me to walk away from them! How can I trust someone who won’t even try?”

“Eva, this isn’t about trust. It’s about survival!” His grip tightens, his face contorted with frustration. “We don’t have a choice!”

“There’s always a choice!” I scream, thrashing against him, my tears falling freely now. “They’re my friends too, damn it!”

“Enough!” His voice is a harsh bark, silencing me for a moment. “You can hate me all you want later, but right now, we’re getting out of here.”

Before I can respond, a faint whistle cuts through the chaos, its eerie note rising above the din. The hellhounds freeze, their heads snapping toward the sound. My heart stops as they turn away from the villagers, their eyes fixed on the source of the noise.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Garet mutters under his breath, his hand tightening on mine. “We really have to get out of here, Eva. Stay low, and whatever happens, don’t let him see you.”

“Who?” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Who is it?”

He doesn’t answer, just pulls me behind a crumbling wall, his eyes darting nervously. The whistle stops, leaving a suffocating silence. My heart races, the unspoken fear between us thick and heavy.

“Their handler. He controls them all. They are his pets.”

“But there are hundreds of them,” I counter. “He surely can’t control them all.” Then, as if the severity of the situation is just hitting me, I scream, “Kendry! We have to warn him.”