Page 68 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

I’m in the air for only a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. The roaring rush of air drowns out everything—my thoughts, my heartbeat, even the doubts that this might’ve been a terrible idea. Time stretches thin, the world slows, and then—

Impact.

I slam into the water like a brick wall, the cold so intense it steals the breath from my lungs in an instant.

My whole body seizes, paralyzed by the shock as the icy water wraps around me.

The chill numbs everything, and for a brief, panicked moment, I thrash wildly, trying to break free from the suffocatingly cold water.

But then, Eldra’s words cut through the chaos. The waters will take care of the rest.

I force myself to go limp, to surrender to the icy embrace, hoping—praying—that this is all part of the plan.

Slowly, the panic fades, and the water begins to cradle me, the cold receding as warmth spreads over my skin, like a hand gently brushing away my fear.

A faint glow builds around me, soft at first, but soon illuminating the depths with a brilliant light. It’s like floating in a sea of stars.

Before me, shadows emerge from the deep, murky at first but sharpening into clear figures. There are scenes—visions—unfolding in front of me, vivid and undeniable. Death, destruction, chaos, but... intertwined with it all is something more. Hope. Resilience. The stubborn will to survive.

And then, she appears—Kora. My mother. Her figure, always so distant in my dreams, now stands before me, clearer than ever.

My necklace hangs around her neck, the deep violet gem glowing against her pale skin.

I watch her, not as an outsider, but as if I’m living these moments alongside her.

She’s in a village, speaking with scholars, frustration etched across her face.

In her room, she paces, dark circles under her eyes, her movements frantic as she rifles through books, one after another.

Finally, with a wild sweep of her hand, she throws one against the wall, its pages fluttering like broken wings.

She begins to spread salt in a circle on the floor, her hands shaking, her voice trembling as she mutters, “Verno tuulem, aranos enroth.” The words echo through me, familiar, as if I’ve heard them whispered in the darkest corners of my mind.

The salt ignites in a ring of fire, and in an instant, someone’s there.

A man.

Handsome, in a dangerous, predatory way.

His long, dark hair falls in waves, framing a face marred by a jagged scar that runs across his cheek.

His strong jaw is shadowed with scruff, and his nose, slightly crooked, adds to his raw, rugged appeal.

There’s a darkness there, an essence that clings to him like smoke, wrapping around his every movement.

A clear sign he is not of this world. Power radiates from him, dangerous and intoxicating, and despite the menace in his smile, there’s a softness in the way he looks at my mother, a conflict that twists in the depths of his gaze.

But it’s his violet eyes, unmistakably like mine, that capture me.

Fuck.

He’s my father.

The realization slams into me like a tidal wave, filling every part of me with a cold, hard truth. This is what I was meant to see. The truth I was meant to uncover.

With a flick of her wrist, my mother breaks the circle, and the man steps forward. “Dante,” she breathes, and then he’s upon her, kissing her deeply, his arms winding around her as if she’s the only thing anchoring him to this world.

I want to turn away, to unsee this intimacy, but my mother’s voice holds me captive. “Did you bring the text?” she whispers, breaking away just enough to speak.

Dante smirks, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “Ye of little faith.” With a snap of his fingers, a book materializes in his hands. Its cover polished black, emanating a dark, pulsing aura. “We don’t have much time before he notices it’s gone. And when he does, he’ll know who took it.”

My mother sits on the bed, flipping frantically through the pages, searching for something.

I strain to see the text, trying to decipher it, but the language is unfamiliar—ancient symbols and jagged lines that might as well be gibberish.

I feel an overwhelming frustration rise within me.

What is this? What could be so important that she would risk everything?

Suddenly, Kora’s hand pauses on a page. Her breath catches, and a spark of recognition flickers in her eyes.

She’s found it. I know without a doubt that this moment will change everything.

Dante watches her, but something shifts in his expression.

Suddenly, his mood changes when he takes a deep breath through his nose, his eyes darkening every second.

“When were you going to tell me?” His voice is low, dangerous, catching my mother off guard.

She meets his gaze, unflinching. “When I was certain, which I suppose is now.”

His face tightens, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he whispers, his voice harsh. “People will notice.”

My mother’s eyes flash with defiance. “It’s not the first secret I’ve hidden.” She raises her hand, and suddenly, the swirling, intricate markings of a tattoo shimmer into view on her arm. It’s the same one I have—the same pattern, though hers is darker, more defined.

I freeze. What the hell does that mean? I want to scream, to demand answers, but I’m trapped in this vision, helpless as the scene unfolds.

Dante’s eyes flick to the marking, then back to her. “You should’ve told me sooner,” he murmurs. The threat in his voice tempered by something softer, something almost sad. “A child running around these halls will raise questions.”

“We have far bigger problems,” she snaps, waving the issue away as if it’s nothing. “First, we need to make sure we live long enough for those questions to matter.”

Gradually, the scene fades away until I’m left staring at nothing but dark water again.

My chest tightens as tears trace paths down my cheeks—something I didn’t even think was possible underwater.

I don’t have time to dwell on what I just witnessed before my lungs start to burn, begging for air.

Pushing through the ache, I kick my way to the surface, gasping the second I break through.

It takes several moments for me to catch my breath, my body instinctively treading water, just like all those times Finn forced us into the lake back at Pinebrook. I glance up, and through the spray of the waterfall, I spot a lone figure at the edge of the cliff—Cal.

That’s when I remember the second part of this challenge—getting back up there. My gaze flickers to the towering rock face in front of me. There’s no way I could climb that, especially with the falls crashing down. My options are grim: blink or drown trying.

I push down the flood of emotions from what I just saw—there’s no time to unravel that now.

Instead, I call on my power, feeling the warmth spread through me, pushing back the freezing cold water.

I picture the cliff where I’d stood moments ago, every jagged stone, every patch of moss.

I will myself to be there. But I’m still here.

Panic starts to creep in with every failed attempt. I can’t tread water forever. But I shove the fear aside. I refuse to fail. I’ve battled hellhounds, fought commanders, and harnessed my affinity. I can fucking do this.

I close my eyes and focus on Cal—the last thing I saw before I jumped.

His steady, reassuring gaze. I pull on the trust I’ve built in him, on the love I’ve buried for far too long.

I picture us like a book, each of us one of the covers, and mentally rip out the pages that keep us apart.

With a rush of power, I feel it—the connection.

One second, I’m sinking in the frigid water, and the next, I’m flat on my back, Cal’s face hovering above me, his eyes wide with worry.

“Hey, you,” he whispers, kneeling beside me. His worried expression melts into a proud grin as I manage a shaky smile.

“That wasn’t so hard,” I joke, though my voice comes out weaker than I want. With a flick of his wrist, Cal dries my soaked clothes instantly, magic crackling around us. I glance around. It’s just the two of us—Eldra is nowhere in sight.

“She disappeared the second you jumped,” Cal explains, helping me sit up.

“Shit. There go all the questions I was planning to ask her.” I let out a frustrated breath, but Cal’s excitement pulls me back.

“You fucking did it. You blinked!” His eyes light up as he leans in, but there’s a question burning in them—one he hasn’t asked yet.

“I want to tell you,” I murmur, reading the unspoken words on his face, “but first, I need to know what you saw when you jumped.” I lock eyes with him, feeling my heart pound in anticipation.

Cal holds my gaze, and for what feels like an eternity, he says nothing. But finally, he speaks. “You. I saw you.”

“Me?” My voice is barely a whisper, my pulse thrumming in my ears. I wait, needing more.

“Yeah... but not all of you. Just your eyes.” His voice softens, and I feel my chest tighten.

“I saw those big, beautiful violet eyes staring back at me, just like you are now. I didn’t know who you were or what it meant, but there was something so familiar about them.

After everything I’d been through, they gave me this overwhelming sense that… everything was going to be okay.”

He pauses, as if searching for the right words. “I dreamed about them—about you—for so long. I’d will myself to see more of you, to hear your laugh… sometimes, I swear I could almost hear it. It was the only thing that gave me peace.”

His voice trembles slightly. “After my mother died, I didn’t have anyone. Izzy, Theo… they’re family, but it’s not the same. And then there were your eyes. I didn’t understand it, but I knew—I felt—that you were mine. Somehow, you were always meant to be.”