Page 42 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

“Who… who do you think did this?” I manage, my voice hoarse, wiping the dampness from my cheeks.

“The Survivors,” he says, his voice tinged with quiet anger as he offers me his hand to help me up. He points to a mark on the stone nearby. “That’s their symbol.”

The symbol is a rough, uneven scar, jagged lines carved into the stone like a lightning strike that’s been hacked into the surface. It’s asymmetrical, the edges frayed and uneven, as if someone took a crude tool and tried to force something unnatural into the stone.

“The Survivors are a resistance group with a twisted sense of justice,” Callon explains, his voice tinged with bitterness.

The sight of the symbol stirs something deep in my memory.

I’ve seen it before, I realize, on the spines of books Kendry kept on his shelf.

I remember the strange meetings he used to host here, people arriving with books bearing that same mark.

Did he have something to do with them? I blink, shaking off the fog, trusting myself to explore this later.

The front door gapes open, revealing a hollowed-out shell of what used to be a home.

I tread inside cautiously, the layer of dust undisturbed, marking time in a way that feels too final.

In the dim light, I see the furniture overturned, as if whatever battle had unfolded here started within these walls.

My fingers trail over the spines of Kendry’s books—each title carefully selected, many of them fairy tales he used to read aloud to me.

I trace his handwriting on the covers, feeling the grit of dust under my fingertips.

But there are gaps on the shelves, empty spaces where books should be.

Did Kendry hide them? Or were they taken?

“Here.” Callon’s voice breaks through my reverie, and I turn to see him holding a small bag. “For anything you’d like to bring back.” He shrugs as if it’s nothing, though his thoughtfulness almost makes me crumble all over again.

In my old bedroom, everything seems untouched, coated with a fine layer of dust, but intact.

I sit on the edge of my bed, feeling as though I’ve stepped back into another life—one where Kendry’s laugh filled this room and my biggest worry was which book to read next.

I reach under my mattress to find it, praying to whoever is listening it is still there.

My breath catches as I pull it out— a worn journal, edges frayed, the cover faded from years of use.

Scribbles, sketches, and words I barely recognize flood the pages—fragments of thoughts, stories, and dreams I once held close but had long forgotten.

A lump rises in my throat, and for a moment, it’s as if the weight of all those lost memories crashes down on me.

I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this, how much I needed to find it.

I add it to the bag, along with a few books bearing Kendry’s hand.

In the kitchen, Callon examines jars of powders and dried leaves with quiet curiosity. “These jars,” he asks, turning to me, “what were they for?”

“Remedies,” I reply, smiling faintly. “Kendry always had a knack for making teas and potions. He’d have something ready for every headache, every bad dream.” The memory catches in my throat, but I push it down. “Why?”

He points to a jar of green powder. “This is Elderglow, found only in Skorda. And these red leaves,” he continues, holding up another jar, “grow only in Coire. This,” he says, gesturing to the last jar, “comes from Catalpa, from before the shadows took over.” He unscrews the top, and the familiar, sharp scent rushes out, overwhelming me.

“That smell…” I stagger back, realization dawning. “He put that in my coffee. Every morning.”

Callon’s eyes darken with a flicker of anger.

“That’s why it took so long for your powers to emerge.

This…” he gestures to the jar, “this suppresses aether. It was making you mundane.” “Are you serious?” My voice shakes, the words barely audible as the truth settles like lead in my chest. Every cup of coffee, every morning ritual, wasn’t kindness—it was a barrier.

Anger, grief, and betrayal twist inside me, so potent I feel I might explode.

What. The. Fuck?

But then it starts to make sense. The day I met Callon and my light appeared, I hadn’t drank my coffee yet. The day before, I only had a sip or two.

“What’s on your mind?” Callon asks gently, closing the jars and moving closer, concern lining his features.

I’m a whirlwind of emotions—sadness, anger, and disbelief.

I start to laugh—a harsh, disbelieving sound that echoes around us until my voice is hoarse.

Maybe this is another stage of grief, or maybe my life is just that screwed up.

Who knows? Callon’s head tilts in confusion, clearly unprepared for this reaction.

“I don’t know,” I say between laughs. “My life is too fucked up to think straight.” Tears start to fall, and I quickly wipe them away—no, I’m not crying again. “All I know,” I say more seriously, “is I’m sick of people lying to me.”

His expression softens, his voice tender in a way I’ve never heard.

“I’m sorry, Eva. You don’t deserve any of this.

No one does.” He reaches out, his hand hovering near my shoulder before gently resting there.

The gesture is so grounding, so quietly powerful, that I can’t help but feel a flicker of something new—a faint but undeniable pull between us, as real as the grief surrounding us.

After a final sweep of the house, Callon asks if I’m ready to head back.

“Can we make one more stop?” I ask, feeling an inexplicable pull toward a certain place.

“Lead the way.” He gestures for me to go ahead.

We take a short walk through the forest, and soon, we’re by the river—the same one I came to that morning, just after my light first appeared.

I find my way to the familiar pile of rocks and settle onto a flat one overlooking the water.

The gentle murmur of the water has a way of calming my thoughts.

I glance back at Callon, extending a hand toward him. “Come on, there’s room for you.”

He takes it, his touch warm and grounding as he joins me.

“You know,” I begin softly, “this is where I came the morning after I met you. Something about the river… it’s steady, no matter what chaos is swirling around it.

I made a promise to myself here—to find the strength to do what needed to be done. ”

I pause, looking down, the weight of everything I’ve been through settling over me. “I don’t think I’ve kept that promise very well,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper.

For a moment, Callon says nothing. Then he places his hand beneath my chin, turning my face toward his.

His usually sharp features have softened in the evening light, his gaze filled with a tenderness that catches me off guard.

His other hand lingers near mine, as though he’s waiting for me to reach out first.

“Eva,” he begins softly, “you are the strongest person I know.”

I scoff, but he continues, “Look at everything you’ve faced—all the loss, the betrayals, the questions that never seem to end.

You’ve taken every hit life has thrown at you that night we met, and you’re still standing.

Not many people could do that. I’ve seen soldiers buckle under half of what you’ve been through.

” He takes a steadying breath, his gaze locked on mine.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long for answers.

I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into a world where everything feels so uncertain.

And I’m sorry—truly—that it’s been so damn hard to figure out who you can trust, even… with me.”

There’s a deep sorrow in his eyes, as he reaches out slowly, his fingers brushing the hair out of my face with a warmth that’s almost painful in its gentleness.

“Eva, it’s okay to not be okay,” he says quietly, his voice laced with empathy.

“You don’t have to carry all this alone.

You’ve been thrown into a mess that no one should have to bear on their own.

I promise you, whatever this prophecy means, whatever it demands of us, we’ll figure it out—together. ”

We lock eyes for longer than I care to admit. Finally, I look away, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Shit, that means he is winning now.

My heart clenches, and for a moment, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, toes curling over the edge as the weight of his words sink in.

I don’t have to do this alone. I don’t have to be the one always fighting, always searching for strength I barely feel like I have.

His promise fills a space in me I didn’t realize was empty, a space that has craved connection, certainty, someone willing to share the load.

“Promise?” I whisper, my voice almost breaking.

“Yes,” Callon says, his gaze drifting down to my lips.

I don’t let myself overthink it. “Then prove it,” I murmur, my voice barely a breath.

And with that, he doesn’t hesitate. His lips press softly against mine, the kiss gentle.

It’s as though he’s been waiting, holding back, afraid that crossing this line would mean no return.

His hands slide into my tangled hair, cradling the back of my neck with a quiet tenderness.

But then, something shifts—a spark ignites between us, sharp and undeniable.

It’s like every nerve in my body comes alive at once as his warmth floods through me.

After a while, Callon begins to pull away, his voice tinged with regret. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

But I don’t let him finish. I pull him back to me, capturing his lips again, harder this time, unwilling to let go of what’s been building.

He responds instantly, his hand pressing against the small of my back as he deepens the kiss, his tongue meeting mine with an urgency that sets every nerve in my body on fire.

It’s as if the world falls away, leaving only the heat of his lips, the feel of his arms around me, and the wild rhythm of our hearts pounding in sync.

He tastes like leather and wine—dark, rich, and addictive. My fingers find their way into his hair, tugging him closer as if he might slip away if I let go.

All I can think is closer. I need him closer.

Without breaking the kiss, I climb onto his lap, straddling him.

His hands move down to my waist, and his lips trail down my jaw, leaving a scorching path along my skin.

My breath catches as he finds a sensitive spot on my neck, and I tilt my head back, surrendering to the sensation.

His voice is a low, gravelly murmur against my skin.

“Eva, if we don’t slow down…” His hands grip my waist as if he’s barely holding himself back. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

Instead of pulling away, I draw him closer, pressing my lips to his once more, pouring every unspoken feeling into the kiss.

This time, he doesn’t hesitate, his hands roaming over me as he kisses me deeper, as if he’s determined to make up for all the lost moments.

“Such an evil little thing,” he breathes against my lips, his words tinged with a teasing warmth that only stokes the fire between us.

He’s just as hungry for me as I am for him, exploring and devouring. I grind my hips against his, needing the friction, urging him to keep going. I want him to touch me everywhere, to kiss me everywhere. I can’t get enough of him, and everything he does feels like perfection.

Then the realization hits—like a moment from a storybook, one I’ve read about a hundred times but never believed could be real. My heart races, not with the flutter of infatuation, but with something deeper, heavier. This is it, isn’t it? The feeling I’ve only imagined through the words of others.

And it terrifies me. The intensity, the vulnerability, the way he’s unraveled me so completely. But then his lips find mine again, his kiss tender and unyielding, and for a moment, the fear dissolves.

Eventually, we pull back, both of us breathing heavily. Callon rests his forehead against mine as he catches his breath. I can see the raw emotion he’s trying to contain. “That was—” he starts, struggling to find the right words.

“Mind-blowing? Utter madness? Hot?” I offer, grinning despite the blush rising to my cheeks.

“All the above,” he replies with a smile, his thumb brushing my cheek.

I rest my hand in the crook of his neck, intertwining my fingers with his. We stay like that for a while, letting the moment sink in. As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the lake, he helps me down from the rocks, his hand lingering in mine.

“Ready to head back?” he asks, his voice soft, a question that feels heavier than it sounds.

I nod, squeezing his hand and savoring the last moments with him. I want this moment to stretch into eternity, but my affinity doesn’t grant me the luxury of stopping time.

“Ready.”