Page 16 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

This one is different. I can feel it the moment the dream takes hold.

The haze that usually blurs the edges of my visions is gone, leaving everything sharp, too sharp.

I find myself standing in the heart of a kingdom more alive than anything I’ve ever seen.

The light spills across fields, bathing them in a warmth that seems to pulse with life itself.

People move through the streets with a sense of purpose, their faces alight with joy, their laughter ringing out like music.

It’s as if this place is everything anyone could ever hope for—a place where dreams come true, even the ones you didn’t know you had.

I can feel the energy of the place thrumming beneath my feet, a steady rhythm of contentment and peace. For a moment, I allow myself to believe that maybe this is how things could be, how they should be. But the feeling doesn’t last.

Something shifts. At first, it’s so subtle I almost miss it—a faint cooling of the air, a dimming of that golden light.

I glance around, but everything still seems..

. fine. And yet, there’s a tension building, a sense that something is off.

I see a woman falter, clutching at her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Her skin, so full of life just moments before, turns ashen.

She collapses to the ground, but no one seems to notice.

They keep moving, keep laughing, as if nothing’s wrong.

It spreads, slowly at first. A man stumbles, then another.

The golden light that filled the city begins to fade, and the warmth that wrapped around me turns cold.

The laughter fades too, replaced by coughing—deep, gut-wrenching coughs.

I watch as people fall, one by one, their faces twisted in pain, in fear.

The joy that filled this place evaporates, leaving behind only shadows.

The panic hits like a wave, sweeping through the streets.

Faces that were just moments ago so full of life are now pale, contorted with terror.

Children cry out, their voices high and thin, as their small bodies shake with fever.

Mothers scream, clutching their children to their chests, their eyes wide with horror.

The streets are filling with the dead and dying, and the air is thick with the stench of sickness and decay.

I can hear them now, their voices rising in desperate, frantic prayers. “Please,” they beg, “help us!” They’re pleading, their hands outstretched to the heavens, their eyes searching for a god who will answer. But the sky remains silent, their cries echoing into the void.

I feel it all—their fear, their desperation—as if it’s my own.

I want to scream, to run, but I’m rooted in place, forced to watch as the city crumbles before me.

The light is almost gone now, leaving nothing but darkness and death.

And just when I think it can’t get any worse, I hear it—a whisper that cuts through the noise, soft but unmistakable. “Why have you forsaken us?”

The words hang in the air, unanswered, as the last of the light fades away. And I’m left standing in the dark, the echo of their pleas ringing in my ears.

***

A soft knock on the door drags me from a restless sleep. I sit up groggily, my mind still tangled in the remnants of my nightmare. The knock comes again, more insistent this time. Someone is way too chipper for this hour.

“Come in,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes and trying to force my brain to cooperate.

The door opens, and Leigh steps in, carrying a bundle of fresh clothes and a steaming mug. “Good morning,” she says with a warm smile that feels too bright for my current mood. “I brought you something to wear and some coffee. Garet mentioned how much you love it.”

The sight of the coffee instantly perks me up, and the rich aroma does wonders for my still-foggy brain. “Thank you,” I say, practically snatching the mug from her. Priorities.

Leigh steps aside, revealing a tall, red-haired man standing just outside the doorway. “Eva, I wanted to introduce you to Emmet, your guard. He’ll be looking out for you while you’re here.”

Emmet steps into the room, his smile so dorky it’s almost endearing. “Good morning, Miss Eva,” he says, bowing slightly as if he’s in some long-forgotten era of chivalry.

I take a sip of my coffee, feeling a bit more human with each drop. “Good morning, Emmet,” I respond, trying to muster a smile. “Nice to meet you.” Because being rude to the guy who’s supposed to keep me safe doesn’t seem like the smartest move.

The coffee’s smooth and slightly bitter, warming me from the inside out.

But something’s off. It’s not bad, just..

. missing something. I can’t quite place it, but it’s not like the coffee Kendry used to make.

His coffee always had that hint of something special—a secret blend of spices that made it perfect. This? This is just... coffee.

Leigh watches me with a curious expression. “How is it?”

“It’s good,” I reply, managing a small smile and another sip, even though it feels like I’m betraying Kendry’s memory. “Thanks for the clothes,” I add, glancing at the bundle she brought. “And the coffee.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, placing the clothes on the chair beside the bed. “I thought you might want to freshen up first.”

“I appreciate it, Leigh.”

She gives me a reassuring smile, which does absolutely nothing to ease my nerves. “Take your time. The bathing chamber is through the door on the right. It’s enchanted to give you hot water when you turn the handle.”

I blink in surprise, my brain still catching up. “Enchanted? You mean, like... magic?”

Leigh nods, her smile widening. “Yes, exactly. It’s quite convenient, especially in the colder months. Just turn the handle, and the water will be hot instantly.”

My mind races at the thought. I’d read about enchantments in books, but to actually experience it firsthand? “That’s amazing,” I breathe, my fascination momentarily overriding the low-level panic I’ve been living with.

Leigh chuckles softly. “It’s one of the small luxuries we enjoy here. Go ahead and try it. I’ll be back in a little while and we can get some breakfast.”

She leaves the room, and this time, I don’t miss the sound of the lock clicking into place.

Perfect. A locked door—just what every girl dreams of when waking up in a strange place.

With a sigh, I make my way to the door on the right, my curiosity piqued despite the circumstances.

Opening it, I step into a beautifully tiled bathing chamber.

The walls are lined with intricate mosaics depicting serene landscapes, giving the room an aura that’s too enchanting for my current mood.

I approach the large, claw-footed tub, my gaze drawn to the handle Leigh had mentioned.

It looks unassuming, like any ordinary faucet, yet knowing it’s enchanted lends it a quiet, mysterious power.

With a steadying breath, I turn the handle.

Hot water instantly rushes out, filling the room with a thick, swirling steam.

I can’t help but smile, caught off guard by the sheer luxury of it. Who knew that something as simple as an endless supply of hot water could feel like such a miracle?

As the tub fills, I undress and step into the hot water, sighing in relief as it soothes my sore muscles.

The tension from the past few days starts to melt away, replaced by a rare moment of tranquility.

I take my time, enjoying the warmth and the novelty of the bath.

My eyes drift to my forearm, and I notice that the marking on my forearm has spread further down.

The intricate patterns and elegant scrolls have expanded, becoming even more detailed and elaborate.

After soaking in the comforting warmth, I step out, feeling rejuvenated and slightly less like the walking disaster I was before.

I towel off and slip into the clothes Leigh brought for me.

The garments are unlike anything I’ve worn before—soft, flowing fabric in shades of blue and silver.

The blouse is adorned with delicate embroidery along the neckline, depicting intricate patterns that shimmer in the light.

The trousers are loose and comfortable, cinched at the waist with a simple cord woven from threads of what looks like silver.

Once dressed, I quickly braid my hair, securing it with a piece of leather that matches the azure of my blouse.

The braid falls neatly over my shoulder—practical and easy, just how I like it.

I glance at myself in the mirror, noting that while Leigh might have healed my cuts, she couldn’t do much about the dark circles under my eyes. Those are here to stay, apparently.

Shortly after, Leigh reappears, practically bouncing with excitement. “Ready?” she exclaims, clearly not trying to hide her enthusiasm. I give her a nod, trying to match her energy, but it’s tough when you’re running on nerves and caffeine.

After breakfast, Leigh and I head out to explore Astermiri, starting with the gardens. As we walk, I can’t help but compare the surroundings to those of Providence. The differences are striking—like night and day.

In Providence, the gardens are modest and functional, filled with herbs and vegetables necessary for daily life. The plants are tended with care, but there’s a practicality to their arrangement, a reflection of the hardworking people who cultivate them. No frills, just what’s needed to survive.