Page 48 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

The room is aglow with a bright white light.

I sit up and throw my blanket off me. My hands are glowing.

I am glowing. I am the light. My fingers radiate a soft, luminescent glow, streaks of light tracing up my arms like veins, pulsing with the aether that seems to flow directly from within.

The bright glow pulses, fed by something deep inside, as if the magic itself is being drawn from my core, lighting up my skin with each heartbeat.

Gradually, the glow fades, and I catch my reflection in the mirror, relieved as my irises stop glowing and return to their usual dark purple.

With sleep out of the question and the sun beginning to rise, I throw on a pair of leathers and a sweater and head back down to the war room.

If I can’t sleep, I might as well make use of this energy.

My mind races, trying to process the chaos of what I just saw.

The dream was too vivid, too real, too powerful to be just that—just a dream.

There’s something tangible here, something I can’t shake.

I tear through the scattered parchment in front of me, frantically searching for the map, but it’s nowhere to be found.

Frustrated, I shove everything aside and sprawl out on the table, staring up at the map drawn above me.

What am I missing?” I mutter under my breath, as if the walls themselves might offer some answer.

And then I see it. There it is, staring back at me: the Crystalwood Forest. My pulse quickens. I mentally trace the path where the mountain passage would be. Holy shit. It lines up perfectly.

I grab my journal and start matching the locations from my dreams to the map.

One by one, they fall into place. The name Gun Choire keeps popping up, but it’s nowhere to be found on the map.

I can’t shake the feeling that it should be here—somewhere.

I press on, the connection between the map and my journal growing clearer with each passing minute.

The world around me fades into the background. I don’t notice the sun climbing high in the sky, nor the door creaking open behind me.

“Eva,” Theo’s voice is distant, almost amused. “Uh, what are you doing?”

I barely register his words. My eyes are glued to the pages of the journal, the locations lining up with eerie precision.

I’m on the verge of something. I can feel it.

The room, the world, everything else just falls away.

Theo mutters something under his breath before I hear his footsteps retreat.

Izzy comes in later, but by then, I’m too absorbed to notice anything but the map.

Time passes in a blur. The hours slip by unnoticed. I’m racing through the entries, over three-fourths of the way through my journal when I hear the door creak open again.

“Has she really been like this all day?” Izzy’s voice is low, filled with dry amusement.

“Yes,” Theo replies with a hint of exasperation.

“Should we check if she’s still alive?” His voice drips with sarcasm.

“She’s definitely breathing. I can see it from here,” Izzy retorts with a hint of a smirk in her voice.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that,” Theo mutters. “Maybe she’s sleeping. Should we kick her?”

“Kick her? Really, Theo?” Izzy’s tone is flat, but there’s amusement there too.

Someone chuckles—soft, but familiar. I recognize it immediately. It’s him.

But I force myself to focus on the map. I can’t pull my attention away—not now. I’m so close. I commit the latest entry to memory. My finger tracing the lines and locations on the map. I imagine a line connecting them, willing my magic to guide me.

“Uh, anyone else notice she’s glowing?” Theo’s voice is muffled, but there’s a tone of wonder in it.

“Well, that’s new,” Izzy’s dry voice cuts through.

“Look,” Callon says, stepping closer. I assume he’s pointing to the map, the one now glowing faintly. Lines and circles of light are beginning to form, tracing paths across the ceiling with a life of their own.

“That’s so cool,” Theo mutters, awe creeping into his voice.

“What is she doing?” Izzy asks, her curiosity piqued.

“She figured something out,” Callon says, and there’s that unmistakable smile in his voice. “Give me a moment.”

“And miss the show?” Izzy replies, her voice playful. “I think not.”

I don’t look away from the map, but I can feel Callon’s approach. There’s a soft thud as books hit the floor, and then I sense him beside me. Our heads are inches apart.

“What do you see?” His voice is low, just above a whisper, meant only for me.

I swallow hard, trying to steady my racing heart. “My dreams. They’re all places on the map,” I whisper back. “I don’t necessarily name them, but the descriptions match. I’ve seen these places, in ways I can’t explain.”

Callon’s breath catches for a moment. I flip through the worn pages of my journal to the stories that match Coire.

The names and places blur together, blending in a haze of recognition: ancient strongholds, lost cities, hidden valleys.

My fingers trace the words, eager to connect them to the lines forming on the map.

“And then this,” I say, turning to the Skorda entry.

The gnomes’ lands are alive with detail—ancient forests where trees speak, rivers shimmering with the essence of time, mountains that sing with the voice of the earth itself.

The magic hums beneath the words, the world folding open in front of me.

“It’s all here,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “Even Soala, before the war.” The words hang in the air, full of longing and lost beauty. A place of dreams, where the skies were always a serene shade of blue, where rainbows danced across the horizon and harmony prevailed.

For a long time, Callon doesn’t speak. He’s quiet, processing everything, as if trying to make sense of the enormity of what’s unfolding.

“I’ll go get her some food,” Izzy mutters to the room, breaking the silence. I hear the scrape of a chair as she stands.

“I think I’ll join you,” Theo says, his voice suddenly too loud in the quiet room. “Ingrid will be glad to see me.”

Their footsteps fade into the distance, but I don’t look away from the map.

We continue to lay there for a while after they leave the room.

Callon is the first to break the silence.

“How long have you laying here?” He shifts, flipping himself over onto his knees, his eyes fixed on me as if to make sure I’m still here, still present.

He looks down, effectively blocking my view of the map.

I blink, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. “Since early this morning,” I respond, my heart doing a stupid flip. Damn heart. “Nice of you to finally show up, by the way. Get tired of avoiding me?”

A brief flash of something—guilt? —crosses his face, gone before I can make sense of it. “We’ll talk about that later,” he says, brushing it off like it’s nothing. But I know there’s more there, more he’s not saying. “Right now, I want to know what you figured out.”

I shrug, suddenly feeling small, even under his steady gaze. “I don’t know. How would I know all these places? Do you know what ‘Gun Choire’ means, by the way?”

His reaction is immediate—his face pales, his eyes widen as if the very air has been sucked from the room. “Who told you that?” His voice is sharp, a tone I’ve never heard from him before, one that doesn’t just ask but demands.

“It’s in my journal,” I say, gesturing toward the worn pages spread across the table, and the one in my hand. “I mention it a few times, but I can’t find it anywhere on the map.”

“It wouldn’t be on the map,” he says, taking the journal from my hands with an urgency that startles me.

Without a word, he pulls me up with him, and I find myself sitting close to him now.

His voice drops, and the shift in his presence is palpable.

“It’s an old name. The gods themselves used to call Valtris that.

‘Gun Choire.’ It means ‘without blame.’ No one has used that name in centuries.

It’s never been mentioned anywhere. Not until now. ”

Before I can process what he’s said, Izzy and Theo return, Izzy holding a plate of food and Theo with an empty one, his stomach clearly the bigger priority.

“What?” Theo laughs when he sees our confused expressions. “I was hungry. It was a long walk.”

Callon doesn’t even look up, still absorbed in the journal. “Did Kendry ever tell you that name?” he asks me, his focus unwavering.

“No,” I reply, unease creeping up my spine as I watch the others exchange looks.

“Tell her what?” Izzy asks, settling back into her seat.

“‘Gun Choire,’” Callon says, his voice suddenly grave, dark eyes locking with mine. The weight of those words makes my stomach drop.

Izzy’s face goes pale, the blood draining from her cheeks as if she’s just seen a ghost. “No fucking way,” she whispers, snatching the journal from Callon’s hands.

Her usual calm falters, and it’s enough to make my confusion spike.

Theo freezes. His plate falling from his hands and shattering on the floor as he rushes over to read the entry over Izzy’s shoulder.

His brow is furrowed, lips parted as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

I stare at them, frustration bubbling up. “What’s going on? What’s the big deal about this?” I demand, the suspense eating at me.

Callon’s face is unreadable now, but I can see the tension in his jaw.

“That phrase,” he starts, each word careful, deliberate, “has never left this kingdom. No one knows it outside of here.” He takes a breath, and it feels like the entire room has held its own.

“Not only was it a name for Valtris, but it’s also the secret phrase to access the tunnel where the gate is located. ”

A deep chill runs down my spine at the mention of the gate, and Izzy’s voice cuts through the stillness. “Callon,” she warns, her voice tight, a hint of fear in it now.