Page 22 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

I can’t control it. I can’t catch my breath.

My chest is tight, each inhale shallow and labored.

Panic grips me, sudden and relentless, squeezing the air from my lungs.

My thoughts scramble, unable to find any grounding, and I can’t stop the wave of fear that surges through me.

The room tilts, and my legs feel unsteady, as if they might give way at any moment.

The weight of it all presses in, and I’m trapped, suffocating in a silence that feels too loud.

Leigh, seeing the look on my face, steps between Garet and me. “Come on, Eva. Let’s go.” Her voice is gentle but firm, a lifeline in this mind-blowing shitshow. Realizing I’m not in control of my own two feet, she grabs onto my arm and guides me.

As we leave the throne room, the suffocating weight starts to lift, but my mind is a chaotic swirl of confusion and anger. What the hell am I going to do? Do I accept this? Do I have a choice? Can I escape? And if I do... where the fuck would I even go?

Leigh keeps a firm grip on my arm, her steps quick and purposeful. She glances back at me now and then, but it’s clear she’s more focused on getting us out.

We turn down a hallway I don’t recognize. Leigh pushes a banner aside, revealing a hidden door. “Shortcut,” she mutters, pulling me through.

Guards follow, but Leigh waves them off. “Not now,” she snaps, and to my surprise, they actually listen. Seriously, where was that energy when I needed it back there?

“Eva,” Leigh says softly, “I know this is all overwhelming, but you need to stay strong. We’ll figure this out together.”

I nod, grateful for her support but unable to shake the gnawing fear in my stomach. “Why is Garet acting like this? He was my best friend, Leigh. Now he’s a stranger, a…a tyrant.”

Leigh sighs, her eyes filled with empathy. “Power changes people, Eva. Garet’s been under a lot of pressure, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior. You deserve better than this.”

Power changes people... That’s the second time I’ve heard that in the past week.

Maybe I should get it sewn on a shirt at this rate.

Leigh takes us to the back to the palace library, where the peaceful atmosphere is a stark contrast to the tension I just escaped.

She finds a secluded corner, and we sit.

“Talk to me, Eva,” Leigh says gently. “Let it all out.”

I take a shaky breath, tears already threatening to spill.

“I don’t get it, Leigh. Garet was my best friend.

Now he’s someone I don’t even recognize—cold, controlling.

And this engagement... I didn’t agree to this.

How can they just decide my future for me?

Like my life isn’t mine to control anymore. ”

The words spill out in a torrent, raw and jagged. Leigh listens with quiet patience, her eyes brimming with understanding. “It’s okay to feel hurt, betrayed. You’ve had so much taken from you—your choices, your trust. It’s not fair.”

And then it hits me, a tidal wave of emotion crashing down.

Kendry’s death, Garet’s betrayal, the endless lies.

I break, the dam shattering as sobs rack my body.

I cry, and I cry, until I’m drowning in the flood of it all, the grief, the anger, the helplessness.

My chest heaves with the force of my tears, and I feel like I’ll never stop.

Leigh wraps her arms around me, holding me as I unravel. Her silent comfort is a lifeline in the storm. “I feel so lost,” I whisper between sobs. “I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know what’s coming next.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Leigh murmurs, her voice a soothing balm. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll take it one step at a time. Tonight, rest. Gather your strength. Tomorrow, we’ll face whatever comes—together.”

I cling to her as the tears begin to subside. Leigh’s unwavering support gives me hope that maybe—just maybe—I can get through this. But a burning question nags at the back of my mind.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I finally ask, my voice hoarse from crying.

Leigh gives me a gentle smile, brushing a tear from my cheek. “Because you deserve kindness, Eva. You’re in an impossible situation, and you need someone on your side. I believe in you.”

Her words catch me off guard, warmth spreading through me despite the cold ache in my chest. “Leigh,” I say hesitantly, “why don’t you and the others like Drystan and Callon? The dislike between you all is obvious.” Subtlety clearly isn’t my strong suit today.

A look of sadness crosses Leigh’s face, and she looks away. “Callon killed our oldest brother, Eamon.”

My mind races, trying to grasp what she just said.

Killed her brother? I open my mouth to ask, but Leigh continues, her voice growing quieter, almost haunted.

“It was a long time ago, but Callon’s mother came to visit us, to explore ways to unite and strengthen our two kingdoms. We were supposed to be betrothed, Callon and I.

But when they were leaving, something went horribly wrong.

There was an attack orchestrated by a faction within Astermiri that opposed the union.

In the chaos, Callon’s mother was killed. ”

Oh fuck.

I blink, struggling to process this. “And Callon blamed Eamon for her death?”

Leigh’s expression darkens, a bitter edge creeping into her voice.

“Yes. In his grief and rage, Callon couldn’t see reason.

He believed Eamon had failed—no, he wanted to believe it.

Blinded by his own fury, he turned his pain into a weapon.

Eamon tried to calm him, to make him see sense, but Callon didn’t care.

His heart was cold, his mind set on vengeance. ”

Her eyes flash with a mixture of sorrow and disdain.

“Callon didn’t just kill Eamon, Eva. He destroyed him.

He stripped away his dignity, made sure he suffered.

It wasn’t an act of passion—it was calculated, merciless.

Callon isn’t just a grieving son lashing out; he’s someone who uses his pain as a weapon, breaking anyone in his way without a second thought. ”

I sit there, stunned by the weight of her words. “I can’t believe it.”

Leigh sighs deeply. “It’s a wound that has never truly healed. Our families have been at odds ever since. The gathering was supposed to bring peace, but it only brought more pain and division.”

I reach out and take her hand, offering what little comfort I can. “I’m so sorry, Leigh. I had no idea.” The words feel inadequate, but what else can I say?

She squeezes my hand, but her expression darkens. “Thank you, Eva, but there’s something else you need to understand.” Her voice turns icy, her eyes flashing with a mixture of fear and loathing. “Don’t ever listen to a word Callon says. He’s full of ulterior motives, and he’s dangerous.”

The word “dangerous” hangs in the air between us.

I hesitate. “Dangerous? You think he’s…?” My thoughts trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence, because I’ve seen a different side of Callon.

Leigh’s voice is firm, her grip tightening on my hand. “He’s a heartless monster, Eva. He has killed countless people, and I doubt he feels any remorse.”

As Leigh’s words sink in, my mind swirls with conflicting emotions.

The truth is, I barely know Callon. A single night, a fleeting moment in the chaos of a small battle—that’s all I have.

Can I really believe I’ve glimpsed something different in him?

He didn’t seem like a cold-blooded killer when he saved me, but what does that mean?

Maybe nothing. Maybe it only proves how little I truly understand about him.

A part of me instinctively wants to justify his actions, to protect the image of the man who rescued me.

Maybe he was driven by unbearable grief and rage, unable to see reason in the heat of the moment.

But even as I think this, another part of me questions why I feel the need to defend him at all.

Is it because I owe him my life, or is there something deeper, something unspoken, drawing me to him?

The conflicting thoughts leave me feeling unsettled and confused, caught between gratitude and the unsettling truth about his past.

This whole thing is starting to feel like one of those tragic romance novels—minus the romance and with a lot more sword fights.

I spend some time reading, savoring the quiet and comfort of the library.

Leigh occasionally looks up from her book to smile at me, her presence a comforting anchor.

She leaves briefly to bring a tray of food, which feels like a small, grounding moment in this whirlwind of a day.

Eventually, we return to my room, my mind still spinning from everything that’s happened.

Just as I’m about to climb into bed, there’s a knock at the door. Assuming it’s Emmet, I open it without hesitation. Instead, I’m met with Garet, standing there like a ghost of the friend I once knew.

“Can we talk?” he asks, his voice tentative, almost pleading.

My jaw tightens, and for a moment, I consider slamming the door in his face. But the part of me that still yearns for answers steps aside, my fists clenching as he brushes past me.

I close the door behind him, the sound of the latch clicking feeling heavier than usual. I turn to face him, barely containing the storm inside me.

“I know you’re angry,” Garet starts, his tone soft but steady. “You have every right to be. But please, let me explain.” He glances at my balled-up fists, adding with a weak smile, “If you want to punch me, I wouldn’t blame you.”

The temptation is strong, but instead, I cross my arms tightly. “Explain what, Garet? That you are someone I don’t recognize? That you keep making decisions for me, stripping away any shred of dignity I have? How the hell is that okay?”

He winces, running a hand through his hair, a nervous tic I’ve seen a hundred times. “Eva, I know I’ve made mistakes. But I’m under pressures you can’t understand. I thought I was—”