Page 38 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

“Is that—” I start to ask, turning to Callon, who has come to stand beside me, the space between us now close enough that I feel the heat of his presence.

“Exactly,” he confirms, his eyes twinkling with pride. “Hard to believe, right?”

I walk along the wall, utterly mesmerized by the shimmering surface. “It’s just like Astermiri,” I say, almost to myself, the words slipping out unbidden.

“What?” Callon asks, his curiosity piqued as he turns to face me. “You saw the crystal caverns there?” A frown creases his brow.

“No,” I admit, regretting my slip. “Leigh mentioned them to me on my first day in Astermiri. I never actually saw them.” I continue exploring the cavern, trying to commit every detail to memory, feeling as if I’ve stumbled upon something sacred, something rare.

“What is this place called?” I ask, my voice hushed, almost reverent.

“Valahri Caverns,” Callon replies, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Theo, Izzy, and I used to come here all the time as kids, swimming under the waterfall in the summer months. My father says Valtris himself used to come here when he needed time alone.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, I wish I could see him then—before the weight of his title, before the kingdom was his burden. His gaze shifts to the cave entrance, and with a quiet, playful grin, he says, “Come on, there’s more.”

“I’m not sure you can top this,” I say, still dazzled by the beauty of the cavern.

“Just wait,” Callon replies, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the challenge.

As we exit the cave, the scenery shifts dramatically.

The grass here is greener than I ever thought possible.

Birds sing in the distance, and I catch sight of a fox nestled contently among the grass.

It’s hard to believe that a kingdom renowned for its military prowess could contain such unspoiled beauty.

We walk quietly for a while, surrounded by the soft crunch of dirt beneath our boots and the distant rush of a stream.

“Careful,” Callon mutters, easing himself down with his feet dangling over the edge.

I’m about to joke about him being overly cautious, but when I finally lift my gaze, the words freeze in my throat, my jaw hanging open in awe.

The view below us is unlike anything I’ve ever seen—like something out of a dream.

A sweeping valley stretches out, framed by towering cliffs that plunge down.

The valley is filled with dense forests of trees whose canopies create a lush green carpet, and a river winds its way through the landscape, sparkling in every shade of blue and green.

Waterfalls cascade down the cliffs, their white foam catching the sunlight and creating glistening streaks against the stone.

Wildflowers dot the valley floor, their reds, yellows, purples, and whites breaking up the lush greenery.

The air is alive with the distant murmur of the river, the occasional swoop of large birds, and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

It’s a scene so breathtakingly beautiful it feels surreal, a sharp contrast to the harsh realities of war and training that have become my world.

I take a deep breath, trying to absorb every detail, to burn this image into my memory. “How is this possible?” I ask, still transfixed by the view.

Without taking his eyes off the valley, Callon replies, “You didn’t think the god of war would choose a boring place to protect, did you? Surely, he needed something of beauty to guard.”

I continue to stare out, too awestruck to speak. We sit there in silence for what feels like hours, just taking it all in. But as the stillness stretches on, my mind starts to wander—back to the mess of emotions I’ve been avoiding, to the guilt gnawing at my insides, threatening to spill over.

Eventually, I break the silence. “Tell me something,” I say, turning to look at him.

He meets my gaze, his expression unreadable. “Like what?”

“Something real,” I plead softly, almost ashamed of the vulnerability in my own voice. “I’m tired of lies.”

The moment hangs between us, the wind carrying the weight of my words over the valley.

I half expect him to shrug it off, to push me away, or worse, to retreat behind a wall of sarcasm.

But he doesn’t. Instead, the silence deepens, and I can see the conflict in his eyes.

For the first time, he hesitates—not in the cool, calculated way I’m used to, but in a way that feels raw, almost exposed.

It’s unsettling to see him like this, and part of me wishes I could take it back, that I could undo whatever vulnerability I just touched in him.

Finally, he exhales, his voice lower now, almost rough. “Did I tell you that you looked beautiful that night in Astermiri?” His eyes flicker to mine, a softness there I haven’t seen before. “If not, I’m a fucking idiot. Gods, that dress was torturous.”

It’s a good thing I’m sitting down because his words catch me so off guard, there’s a solid chance I’d have toppled straight off this cliff if I weren’t.

The memory of that night flashes in my mind—the dress, the way he looked at me, the tension that hung between us.

I swallow hard, feeling warmth rise in my cheeks.

But this moment is too raw, too real, for me to hide behind sarcasm or deflection.

“Callon...” My voice falters, the weight of everything I’ve kept locked away pressing against my chest. But I push through, unable to stop now.

“I’ve been so angry—at everything. At everyone.

But mostly at myself.” The words spill out, raw and jagged.

“Kendry, the people of Pinebrook, everyone who died yesterday... it feels like my fault. No matter how much I tell myself it wasn’t, I can’t shake it.

They’re putting themselves in danger because of me, and I don’t know how to live with it.

All I want to do is run, to hide while everyone else takes the risk.

And I hate myself for even thinking that. ”

The words spill out before I can stop them, and once they’re out, I feel a strange mix of relief and vulnerability. I’ve never admitted this to anyone—not even myself, really. But here, with Callon, it feels like the right time. Like he’s the right person to hear it.

Callon’s eyes soften, and for a moment, I think he might reach out.

His usual sharpness, the guarded look I’ve grown accustomed to, seems to melt away, leaving behind a gentleness I didn’t know he was capable of.

His dark hair, slightly tousled by the wind, falls into his eyes, and there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes me feel exposed in a way that’s both comforting and unsettling.

“I get it,” he says quietly, his voice threaded with the same mix of vulnerability and regret that I feel.

His fingers brush mine—not the bold, confident touch I expected, but something hesitant, almost like he’s not sure if he should.

“I’ve made choices I can’t take back either.

Hurt people I shouldn’t have. And some things…

you can’t ever fix.” He swallows hard, and for a moment, I see it—the weight of his own guilt, buried under years of stone.

“But beating yourself up over it? It doesn’t change anything. Trust me.”

I nod slowly, absorbing his words. “How do you live with it?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “The guilt. The things you can’t undo.”

Callon lets out a breath, his eyes distant as he seems to weigh the question.

“You don’t. Not really. Not in the way you think.

But over time, you learn to live despite it.

You learn that guilt doesn’t have to define you, even when it tries.

” His eyes flicker to mine, soft but steady.

“You can’t change the past, Eva. But you can choose what to do with it.

You can let it break you, or you can use it to build something better. ”

We fall back into silence, but it’s different now. There’s a weight lifted, a shared understanding that hangs between us. I know I’ll never fully forgive myself for what happened, but for the first time, I don’t feel so alone.

“Has there been any word from Astermiri?” I ask, my gaze drifting across the landscape until it falls on a group of griffins casually sipping from the waterbed below. I blink, then do a double take. “Oh my gods, they’re real too?”

Callon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by my reaction, but keeps his tone even.

“No, there have been no more attacks. They’re still tending to their wounded from what I could tell this morning.

I’m sure they’re planning on rebuilding and reinforcing,” he adds, trying to stay on topic, though I can see the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back a laugh.

“Nothing about me?” I ask, almost scared to know the answer.

Callon glances my way. “Nothing yet. But I am sure they know where you are. They’re not stupid enough to come after you, especially after the toll their armies took last night.” His eyes meet mine, and my heart skips a beat.

I let myself really look at him, not as the person I’ve feared and mistrusted, but as someone who’s proven himself to be far more than the warrior everyone thinks he is.

He’s the one who pulled me from danger, the one who didn’t have to, but did anyway.

And now, in this strange, quiet place, he’s here with me, when there are undoubtedly more important things he could be doing.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Apparently, I catch him off guard because it takes a second for him to reply, “For what?”

“For this, for everything,” I add with a smile, “for saving me not once, but twice.”

“Oh, so we’re finally admitting you needed saving,” he jokes, a genuine smile appearing.