Page 5 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

The next morning, stepping through the stone walls, I am greeted by the sight of the market in full swing.

A smile creeps across my face. This is easily one of the reasons why Saturday is my favorite day of the week.

Stalls line the cobblestone streets, vendors peddling their goods with enthusiastic shouts, drawing people from neighboring towns and even distant regions.

Children weave through the crowd, their playful squeals blending with that of a street musician playing his flute near the fountain.

The scent of fresh bread and roasted pecans waft through the air, making my stomach rumble in anticipation.

The market is a sensory feast, with vibrant displays of fruits and vegetables, shimmering fabrics, and an array of handmade crafts.

It’s a place where everyone knows each other, where stories are exchanged as readily as goods, and where the heart of the community beats the strongest.

“Eva!” a familiar voice shouts from a nearby stall.

I quickly head toward it, not bothering to hide my smile.

“Morning, Garet,” I say as he hands me some bread, ignoring the feeling of my heart skipping a beat.

Garet, the other reason why I love Saturdays.

Being a son of one of the vendors, he attends the market every week.

He is tall and lean, with tousled straw-colored hair that always seems to catch the sunlight, making it look like a golden halo around his head.

His sharp green eyes are lively, always filled with a hint of mischief.

“You’re late,” he teases, biting into his own warm, crusty loaf of bread. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about your favorite customer.”

I laugh, taking a bite of the bread. “Never. Just had a bit of a late start this morning.” A slight moan escaping my lips as I savor the warm taste.

He leans against the stall, watching me with a curious expression. “Another story done?”

I nod, pulling out a stack of freshly printed pages from my satchel. “Yep, and it’s a good one. Mr. Whitfield already seems excited about it.”

Garet’s eyes light up. “Can’t wait to read it. I would still love to know how you come up with these. One day you’ll trust me enough with your secret,” he winks.

I smile at his praise, feeling a warmth in my chest. Garet has been one of my earliest and most supportive readers, always eager for the next installment.

“I still can’t believe how this all started,” Garet muses, pulling me back to the present. “You, a village storyteller, soon to be the talk of the town.”

“Well, let’s not be dramatic,” I reply, a touch of sarcasm in my voice. “But it’s nice to have people enjoy what I write. Maybe next I’ll have to start signing autographs and hire an entourage.”

Garet chuckles. “So, are you going to the festival tomorrow?” His tone casual but his eyes gleaming with excitement.

The Harvest Moon Festival is an annual celebration held in the heart of the village, marking the end of the harvest season and honoring Thalor, the goddess of the harvest. It’s a time when the entire community comes together to give thanks for the bountiful crops as well as the changing of the seasons.

The festival is a riot of colors, sounds, and scents, transforming the village into a vibrant hub of activity and joy.

I shrug, trying to play it cool. “I might. Depends on if Kendry needs me to help with his remedies.”

Garet chuckles, his green eyes becoming more striking against the early afternoon sunlight. “Doesn’t he always need help with those? How many times has he accidentally turned water into... what was it last time? Slime?”

I laugh, the memory of his exasperated face as he tried to fix the mess. “That was an interesting day. But I think he’s finally perfected the headache remedy, so he should be fine without me for a few hours.”

“Good, because you need to come,” Garet insists. “I even convinced my father to extend our stay an extra day just so we can go together. The festival won’t be the same without you.”

I raise an eyebrow, amused by his determination. “You convinced your father? That must have taken some serious persuasion.”

He grins, a mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. “What can I say? I’ve got my ways. But seriously, you cannot miss this. There’s going to be fireworks at the end of the night. Everyone’s talking about it, and it’s the event of the year!”

“Fireworks, you say?” I pretend to ponder, though I’m already certain. “All right, you’ve convinced me. I’ll be there.”

Garet grins, satisfied. “Great! It’s a date then.”

“Is it now?” I tease, nudging him playfully, but his words catch me a little off guard. A date? I can’t remember the last time anyone asked me on an actual date.

He laughs, the sound blending with the bustling noises of the market. “You know what I mean. Just be there, okay?”

“I’ll be there,” I promise, feeling a flutter of anticipation in my chest.

Next thing I know, I feel an arm come around my shoulder, pulling me and Garet closer. “How are my favorite non-couple doing? Has Garet finally confessed his undying love for you yet, Eva?” It’s Finn, our friend known for his relentless teasing.

Garet’s cheeks turn bright red, and I’m not far behind, but I manage to laugh. This is hardly the first time Finn has cracked this joke, yet it never seems to lose its power to embarrass us both.

“Knock it off, Finn,” chimes in Nessa, appearing from behind Finn and giving him a playful smack on the arm.

Nessa and Finn have been my friends since childhood—the only two who didn’t shy away or whisper behind my back.

I still remember the day we met; Finn had dared Nessa to climb the tall pine in the village square, and without thinking, I scrambled up after her.

By the time we all tumbled back down, breathless and laughing, it was like we’d known each other forever.

“You’re incorrigible,” Nessa scolds Finn, but she’s smiling too. Nessa, with her fiery red hair and no-nonsense attitude, is always the voice of reason among us.

“You know they’re just friends.”

I roll my eyes, grinning. “Seriously, Finn, you need new material.”

Finn winks at me, a strand of his curly mob of hair falling into his face. “Maybe, but it never gets old seeing Garet turn the same shade as a ripe tomato.”

Garet shakes his head, his embarrassment turning into a smile. “One day, Finn, payback is coming. Just you wait.”

“You can try,” Finn replies with a laugh. “But until then, I’m just going to enjoy it. Anyway, are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I say with real excitement, “Garet was just reminding me of the fireworks.”

“Of course he did,” Finn says, winking at Garet. “Anything to spend more time with our lovely Eva.” Earning him yet another smack from Nessa and this time an eye roll.

“Do you remember last year’s festival?” Nessa asks, a nostalgic smile on her face as she changes the subject. “We danced until our feet were sore.”

“And Finn tried to impress that girl from the next village by juggling apples,” I add, grinning at the memory.

“Hey, I was pretty good at it,” Finn protests, but he’s laughing too. “Until that last apple slipped and hit old Mrs. Hargrove.”

We all burst into laughter, the memory bringing warmth to my heart. Moments like these make me grateful for the simple joys in life, for the friends who stand by me through thick and thin.

My mind drifts back to our childhood adventures—building forts in the woods, daring each other to swim across the river, and sneaking into the village bakery to snag fresh pastries.

Finn was always the daredevil, leading us into one escapade after another.

I remember the time he convinced us to explore the old, supposedly haunted mill on the edge of town.

Nessa had been the cautious one, but she never let us go alone.

Everything changed one Saturday at the market several years ago when we met Garet.

It was a day like any other, bustling with vendors and villagers.

Finn had challenged us to a race to see who could grab the biggest pastry from the bakery without getting caught.

As we darted through the crowd, I collided with a random stranger who turned out to be Garet.

A quick apology turned into a conversation about my writing and remedies, and the rest was history.

From that day on, Garet became a part of our little group, joining us on Saturdays when he came to town for the market.

He fit in seamlessly, his calm demeanor balancing out Finn’s reckless energy and Nessa’s cautiousness.

We would spend hours together, exploring the market stalls, causing trouble, and sharing our latest discoveries.

Garet’s presence added a new dynamic to our adventures, making our group even stronger.

I remember how he would bring small trinkets from the different places he traveled with his father, sparking our curiosity about distant lands.

Nessa laughs, linking her arm with mine. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? Festival preparations are almost done. We should do something fun.”

“Like what?” I ask, curious.

“How about we head to the pub?” Finn suggests. “I could use a drink after all this running around.”

Nessa nods enthusiastically. “I’m in. What about you, Garet?”

Garet shrugs, his smile widening. “Sounds good to me. What do you say, Eva?”

“Let’s do it,” feeling a surge of happiness. “A trip to the pub sounds perfect.”