Page 17 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

Astermiri’s gardens are an explosion of color and life, a testament to the beauty and indulgence that comes when survival isn’t a daily concern.

Here, it seems, when you don’t have to think about your next meal, you can afford to cultivate a paradise.

I’m greeted by vibrant flower beds arranged with artistic precision, creating a breathtaking kaleidoscope of hues.

Roses of every imaginable shade climb trellises, their petals soft and fragrant.

Flowers I’ve only ever read about—orchids, hibiscus, and others—bloom in curated clusters, each one more stunning than the last. It’s the kind of place that makes you wonder if they have a full-time team to keep it so immaculate—or maybe a few spells to keep the weeds from daring to show their faces.

The paths wind through a meticulously curated garden, where neatly trimmed hedges frame the landscape.

Elegant marble statues are strategically placed along the paths, each one depicting figures with intricate detailing: a graceful nymph with outstretched arms, a stoic warrior in mid-stride, and a serene goddess with flowing robes.

The fountains are masterfully crafted, their basins carved with lavish patterns.

Water cascades from the mouths of sculpted lions into crystal-clear pools below, their gentle splashes creating a soothing symphony.

The garden’s tranquil ambiance almost makes you forget you’re imprisoned in a magical kingdom—almost.

As I take it all in, I can’t help but feel a mix of awe and a bit of that dry skepticism creeping in.

Sure, it’s beautiful, but it’s also a stark reminder of just how far from home I am.

Providence is practical, real—Astermiri is something out of a storybook, and right now, I’m not sure which world I belong to.

Leigh guides me down a winding path, pointing out her favorite spots with the enthusiasm of a tour guide. “This part here,” she says, gesturing to a secluded nook surrounded by lilac bushes, “is my favorite place to read. It’s so peaceful, don’t you think?”

I nod, taking in the serenity of the scene. “It’s beautiful. Definitely a change from what I’m used to.”

Leigh’s smile widens, as if she’s heard this comparison a million times. “Providence has its own kind of beauty, I’m sure. But here in Astermiri, we like to indulge in the finer things. The gardens are a perfect example of that.”

We continue our walk, and Leigh shows me a small pond filled with koi fish, their bright scales flashing beneath the water’s surface.

“The gardens aren’t just for show,” she explains.

“They’re a place for people to come and find a moment of peace.

We often have gatherings here, especially during the spring and summer months. ”

I pause by the edge of the pond, watching the fish swim lazily. “It’s all so... grand,” I say softly. “I never imagined a place like this.”

Leigh laughs lightly. She leads me to a stone bench under a canopy of wisteria. “And this,” she says, “is where we can sit and take it all in.”

As we sit, I breathe in the sweet scent of the flowers around us, feeling a moment of calm. The beauty and tranquility of the gardens are a stark contrast to the tension and fear I’ve been grappling with. For a moment, I let myself relax, savoring the illusion of peace.

After we leave the gardens, Leigh guides me through a series of archways draped in climbing ivy, leading us into another part of the city. The sound of water from the fountains fades into the distance, replaced by the bustling noises of the city center.

We step onto brick-lined streets with quaint yet elegant shops.

Each storefront is meticulously maintained, their windows showcasing a variety of goods—from exquisite jewelry to finely crafted garments.

Street vendors are dotted along the way, their stalls brimming with colorful fruits, paintings, and handmade trinkets.

The air is filled with a blend of enticing scents: freshly baked goods, blooming flowers, and the faintest hint of incense.

“This is the market district,” Leigh explains. “It’s where you’ll find everything you could possibly need. Many of the items here are crafted by the best artisans in the kingdom.”

“Is it like this every day?” I ask Leigh, overwhelmed by the sensory overload.

“Of course,” she replies, walking up to a nearby stall full of flowers. “It’s always this vibrant.”

The differences between the two places couldn’t be more stark.

Providence is a land carved out of necessity, a place where every decision is driven by survival.

In contrast, Astermiri is a world where excess is everywhere.

Everything here is grand, extravagant, almost to the point of decadence—lush gardens that seem to stretch on forever, towering structures draped in gold, and streets that sparkle with the kind of luxury that feels over the top.

It’s a place where beauty, pleasure, and indulgence are woven into the fabric of daily life, a world built not just to live, but to live in the most magnificent way possible.

It’s a style, a way of life that feels excessive and alien to me.

We pass by a bakery, and the tantalizing smell of warm pastries makes my stomach rumble louder than a thunderstorm. Leigh notices and grins. “Would you like to try something? The pastries here are world renowned.”

My stomach already making its opinion known.

I nod eagerly. We step inside, and the cozy interior of the bakery welcomes us with wooden shelves lined with an array of pastries.

Leigh selects a few of her favorites—a flaky croissant, a fruit tart, and something intriguingly named a honey cake.

We find a small table by the window and settle in.

As we eat, Leigh points out various landmarks visible through the window.

“Over there is the apothecary,” she says, gesturing to a charming building with herbs hanging in the window.

The sight sends a pang through my chest, reminding me of Kendry.

“And just down that street is the blacksmith. You can find some of the finest weapons and armor there.”

We finish our pastries, which I could probably eat every day if given the chance, and continue our tour.

Leigh leads me to a nearby plaza, where a group of acrobats performs a breathtaking routine.

They soar through the air with effortless precision, their bodies twisting and turning in a dazzling display of skill.

Each leap and tumble is met with collective gasps from the crowd, their eyes wide and mouths open in awe.

As we watch, a fire-breather steps into the spotlight, adding a daring flair.

With each deep breath, he exhales a torrent of flames that leap and swirl in patterns, casting an orange glow that dances across the awestruck faces of the audience.

I have to grip my chair to keep my jaw from dropping; how can anything this extraordinary be real?

“This is one of my favorite places,” Leigh confides. “There’s always something happening here—performances, festivals, you name it.”

I smile, feeling the joy and vibrancy of the place seep into my bones. “It’s incredible,” I admit. “Everything feels so alive.”

Leigh nods, her eyes sparkling. “Astermiri has a spirit all its own. It’s a place where you can truly experience the richness of life.”

Children dart around the edges of the plaza, imitating the acrobats’ high-flying flips and pretending to wield fire with boundless enthusiasm.

Vendors weave through the crowd, their carts brimming with colorful scarves and handcrafted jewelry, adding vibrant splashes to the already lively atmosphere.

Suddenly, one of the acrobats stumbles mid-flip, landing with a sickening twist; a gasp ripples through the crowd as he crumples to the ground, clutching his ankle, bent at an unnatural angle.

Without hesitation, Leigh rushes forward, pushing through the gathered spectators.

She kneels beside the injured man, her expression one of intense concentration.

“Hold still,” she murmurs, placing her hands gently on his injured ankle. As she begins to focus, her irises start to glow with a soft, aethereal light. What. The. Actual. Fuck? I blink several times, convinced I must be hallucinating.

The glow intensifies, and a faint warmth spreads from her hands to the injured ankle.

Leigh’s eyes grow brighter, and the acrobat’s face, initially contorted in pain, gradually relaxes as the healing power takes effect.

Within moments, he tentatively moves his ankle, a look of astonishment and relief crossing his face.

“Leigh,” I mutter, still in awe. “That was incredible.”

Slowly, her eyes fade back to their natural forest green. She stands up, brushing off her hands, and glances at me with a reassuring smile. “It’s just a part of who I am,” she says like it is no big deal.

As we walk away from the performance, my curiosity bubbles over. “How did you do that? And what was with your eyes?”

Leigh chuckles, her laughter warm and genuine. “When we use magic, our irises glow. It’s a reaction from the aether itself—the source of our magic. It’s like a conduit, channeling the energy we need to perform spells or heal, in this case.”

“Aether?” I repeat, the word feeling foreign on my tongue.

“Yes,” she says and nods, her expression thoughtful.

“The glow you saw in my eyes is a visible manifestation of that connection. It happens to everyone who uses their power, though the intensity and color can vary. Lesser magic, like opening doors or turning on lights, barely uses any magic, so it’s unnoticeable. ”

I ponder this new information, fascinated. “So, it’s not just healing?”