Page 104 of Unseen Eye
“He cannot,” Eldra answers for him. “He’s already seen his truth. If he jumps again, the waters will consume him.”
“Right,” I say slowly, trying to imagine what Cal must have seen. Then a thought strikes me. “Um, maybe this is a stupid question, but how do I get back up here after I jump?”
Eldra looks at me as if I’ve grown another head. Cal steps in. “She can’t blink.”
Eldra’s lips curl into a smile, still staring at me. “Yes, she can.”
“I can barely swim,” I begin, sarcasm creeping into my voice, “and now I have to worry about blinking, too? What could possibly go wrong?”
“It takes years to learn how to blink,” Cal argues, a hint of fearflickering in his blue eyes.
“She is capable,” Eldra insists, crossing her arms. “Perhaps you just need more faith in her—and in yourself,” she adds, turning to me.
Whatever fear I felt before multiplies by ten. “So, crash course in blinking?”
“Imagine drawing your power like you do when you summon your light,” Cal explains, his voice tight with worry. “But picture yourself somewhere else. Will the magic to move you to that spot.”
His eyes are stormy blue, full of protectiveness, and the terror of losing me is written all over his face. It tears at my heart.
“Oh yeah, ‘cause it’s that easy,” I mutter, reaching down to remove my boots. My toes curl over the edge of the cliff. Cal may be standing mere inches away from me, but I’ve never felt more alone. The look in his eyes tells me he’s not happy either, but there’s nothing he can do. I’m on my own.
“Believe in yourself, like I believe in you,” Cal says, kissing the top of my head before backing up a few steps.
I take one last look at him, committing every detail to memory—the way his dark hair curls at the nape of his neck, the strong angle of his jaw, the faint scruff of his beard that’s just starting to show, and those impossibly blue eyes. If I die, he’ll be the last person I see.
Steeling my gaze forward, I take one more deep breath, then jump.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
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, butas 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.
