Page 13 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

I wake up slowly, my eyes blinking against the soft light.

As the world comes into focus, I notice the delicate, embroidered silk curtains, their patterns of leaves and vines casting gentle shadows on the walls.

The room is bathed in soft greens and golds, from the lush drapes to the polished wooden furniture, its edges kissed by gilded accents.

I begin to notice a dull ache radiating from my arm and side.

My eyes fall on the simple nightgown replacing my torn clothes, its soft fabric a stark contrast to the rough, bloodied garments I had before.

I gingerly inspect my side, and a sharp pain shoots through me as my fingers trace a thin, raised scar running along my side, with a matching one across my arm.

There’s no blood, no sign of a wound, just this lingering mark—like a bad memory etched into my skin.

I walk to the open window, and as I look out, the view takes my breath away.

Perched high above the ground, I can see rolling hills covered in lush greenery stretching as far as the eye can see, dotted with vibrant wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze.

The sky is a clear, brilliant blue, and the air carries the faint scent of honey and wildflowers—so different from the pine air and city streets of Providence.

In the distance, a serene lake reflects the sunlight, its surface sparkling like a thousand tiny diamonds.

The tranquility and beauty of the scene make it painfully clear that I’m far from home.

I try to piece together how I got here, but my thoughts swim in a fog of confusion and fragmented memories.

There were shadows, an attack, and then… nothing.

Returning to bed, my hand instinctively reaches up to feel the familiar weight of my necklace. It’s cool metal grounding me in the unsettling reality of the moment.

Voices begin to stir outside the room, distant yet unmistakably familiar. My heart skips a beat. Could it be? It sounds like Garet—but that’s impossible. What is he doing here?

As I strain to listen, the voices grow clearer, confirming my suspicion. It is Garet, and he sounds urgent, almost frantic. Confusion swirls in my mind. What are they talking about? Why is Garet arguing with someone?

“You shouldn’t have brought her here, Garet!” a stern voice cuts in. It’s laced with anger and authority. “You know the risks. If they find out she’s here, we’re all in danger. You’re lucky she’s not in the cells right now, while I figure out this mess.”

“I had to,” Garet’s voice responds urgently. “She was bleeding out. If I hadn’t brought her to Leigh, she would have died.”

Leigh? I think to myself, the name is unfamiliar.

There’s a moment of tense silence before the stern voice speaks again, its tone lower but still filled with frustration.

“And what do you expect to accomplish by bringing her here? The abyss is moving faster than we anticipated. Why were they there? After all this time, have you not learned anything?”

Despite being certain they are arguing about me, none of it is making any sense.

Garet’s voice holds a sense of urgency. “I needed to protect her. I couldn’t just stand around while they attacked.”

The voice softens slightly but concern still lingers. “You’ve grown soft, I see. You don’t understand, Garadith. We won’t have long before the others find out. Drystan surely already knows. We need a plan, and we need it now.”

As those words hang in the air, a flood of memories rushes back to me like a relentless tide. I remember the village—burning, flashes of fire, the commander’s chilling stare, Kendry’s bravery... and then the darkness consuming everything.

The realization hits me like a blow to the chest. The shadows, the commander—were they after me? But why? What did they want?

Before I can sort through the whirlwind of thoughts, the door creaks open. Garet steps into the room, his face etched with stress and worry. His eyes meet mine, and he sees the fear in my expression.

“Eva,” he says softly, stepping closer. “It’s me, Garet.”

I shrink back instinctively, my heart pounding in my chest. “Who are you?” I ask, my voice trembling. “What’s going on? Where the hell am I?”

Garet’s brow furrows with sorrow, but he quickly masks it, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Eva, it’s me—Garet,” he says slowly, his voice steady and gentle. “You were hurt badly. I had to bring you here so Leigh could treat you. You were bleeding out, and...”

His words trail off as he sees the depth of my confusion and terror. I scramble back, pressing myself against the headboard, my eyes wide with panic, everything around me spinning out of control—the darkness, the voices, the jagged memories tearing their way back into my mind.

Garet stops, giving me space, his expression a mix of urgency and concern. “Eva,” he pleads softly, his voice tinged with desperation. “We need to understand why they attacked the village, what they were after.”

“Kendry?” I whisper hoarsely, my voice cracking under the weight of grief.

Garet’s face falls, and the sorrow in his eyes returns with a devastating force. “He’s gone, Eva,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“No,” I protest, tears welling up and blurring my vision. “No, this can’t be happening.”

But Garet’s words smash through any fragile hope I was clinging to. Anguish twists in my gut, quickly morphing into a sharp surge of anger. “Where. The. Hell. Am. I?” I demand, each word cutting through the air, thick with disbelief. “How did I get here?”

“Eva,” Garet says, his tone suddenly gentle, as if he were speaking to a child. “Please, calm down. You’re not the only one with questions.”

“Why didn’t you save him?” I accuse, my voice trembling with raw emotion. “You were there, Garet. Why?”

Garet meets my gaze, his own anguish painfully clear. “I tried,” he whispers hoarsely. “I tried everything I could, but... I couldn’t save both of you.”

“This can’t be real,” I murmur, shaking my head as disbelief tightens its grip. “None of this makes any sense.”

Garet’s eyes flicker with something unreadable, and I seize the moment. “Where are they? Finn and Nessa?” My voice trembles, barely above a whisper. “Did you see them? Are they safe?”

He hesitates, his face a mask of conflict. “I don’t know,” he finally admits, his voice low but steady.

The world tilts. Nessa’s face flashes in my mind—her bright smile as she teased Finn about his mismatched socks, the way her kind, steady eyes always seemed to anchor me when everything goes sideways.

The thought of her gone, of her hurt, is unbearable.

“You don’t know?” I repeat, my voice rising in pitch, filled with disbelief and anger.

“You dragged me away, and you don’t even know if they’re okay? ”

“I had to get you out,” Garet says, his tone urgent, trying to explain. “There was no time. If I had gone back—”

“You don’t get it!” I cut him off, my voice breaking as the tears spill over again. “They’re my friends! My family! I can’t just leave them behind!”

His jaw tightens, his frustration evident. “I’m trying to save you, Eva. I’m doing the best I can!”

The guilt is suffocating, a lead weight in my chest. My legs threaten to give out as the enormity of the situation crushes down on me, making it hard to stand, hard to breathe.

A wave of nausea sweeps over me, making it hard to breathe. My chest feels tight, my heart pounding as if it’s trying to break free. I clutch my head with both hands, as if that could somehow stop the flood of chaotic thoughts racing through my mind.

“How could this happen?” I choke out, my voice rising, teetering on the edge of hysteria. “How could any of this be real?”

The room closes in on me, the walls pressing down as the horror of what Garet has said sinks in. My hands tremble uncontrollably, my whole body shaking. It feels like the ground is falling out from under me, and I’m desperate for something—anything—to hold onto.

A heavy silence settles between us, thick with grief and unanswered questions. Garet steps closer, his hand reaching out, but I pull away, the chasm between us growing deeper with every passing second.

“I need to know what is happening,” I demand, my voice trembling but resolute. “Tell me everything.”

Garet gestures toward an adjoining room. The plush chairs and inviting couch stand in stark contrast to the tension between us, but I choose the chair opposite him, needing the physical distance to steady myself.

As I settle into the chair, I can’t help but notice how everything around me is—well, green. The furniture, the drapes, even the rug.

“It’s like a garden threw up in here.” The attempt at humor falls flat, barely cutting through the suffocating tension.

Garet leans forward, his hands clasped tightly, his eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that feels like it’s unraveling every layer of my being.

The weight of his gaze sends a shiver through me, the kind that curls cold in your stomach and refuses to settle.

“Eva,” he begins, voice low and relentless, “what I’m about to tell you will sound impossible.

But I need you to trust me—no matter how much it tests you. ”

The silence between us is tense, thick with things unsaid. My breath catches as an odd sense of dread creeps through me, growing denser with each heartbeat. “Right,” I manage, though my pulse is hammering.

Garet watches me, gauging whether to go on, then draws in a deep breath, the faintest weariness leaking through his steady tone.

“Aetheria was… shaped by forces far older than you or me. Divine beings who answered prayers and brought prosperity. Their power wasn’t just the stuff of legend. ” His gaze sharpens. “It was real.”