Page 14 of Unseen Eye
“We need to get out of here,” Garet says, his breath coming in heavy pants, not bothering to look at his arm. “There are too many of them.”
“But the others,” I plead, “we have to help them.”
“My only concern at the moment is you. There is nothing we can do for the others. It’s unfortunate and tragic, but it is what it is.” Garet says with such finality in his tone, I literally flinch.
The merchant’s son I knew mere minutes ago is long gone.
I allow myself a few seconds to look around and truly digest what is happening around me. The village, usually a peaceful haven, has transformed into a scene of utter chaos. The once orderly rows of quaint, thatched-roof cottages are now marredby flames and shadows. Villagers run in all directions; their faces etched with terror. The smell of thick smoke and fabric hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of fear and desperation. The true definition of a nightmare.
In the midst of this chaos, the remaining villagers huddle together in small groups, their eyes wide with fear. Parents clutch their children close, trying to shield them from the horrors unfolding around them. Elderly villagers, their movements slowed by age, struggle to keep up with the younger, more agile townsfolk, their faces lined with panic and despair.
Despite the danger, a few brave souls attempt to fight back. Armed with whatever they can find—pitchforks, kitchen knives, even heavy branches—they stand their ground, determined to protect their homes and loved ones. Their efforts, though valiant, are no match for the hellhounds and shadowfiends, who continue to wreak havoc with terrifying efficiency. Tears start to streak down my face.
Fires rage uncontrollably, casting an eerie glow over the scene. The bonfire that once served as the centerpiece of the festival has become a source of destruction, its flames spreading to nearby structures and igniting the night with a sinister light. The heat is intense, the crackling of burning wood interspersed with the occasional collapse of a roof or wall.
Frantically, I scan the crowd, my vision blurred with tears, searching for Nessa and Finn. My heart pounds harder with each passing second, but I see no sign of them. Panic grips me, cold and paralyzing. I want to scream their names, to claw through the chaos until I find them, but suddenly Garet’s hand clamps around my arm, his voice urgent. “We have to go, now!”
“No!” I wrench my arm free, my voice cracking with raw emotion. “I’m not leaving without them! Nessa and Finn—they’re out there! They need me!”
“They’ll be fine!” he snaps, trying to pull me again.
“You don’t know that!” I yell, my voice trembling with anger and fear. “You’re just going to abandon them? After everything? I thought you cared!”
“I do care,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes fierce. “But staying here gets us all killed. You have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” I spit, fury bubbling to the surface. “You’re asking me to walk away from them! How can I trust someone who won’t even try?”
“Eva, this isn’t about trust. It’s about survival!” His grip tightens, his face contorted with frustration. “We don’t have a choice!”
“There’s always a choice!” I scream, thrashing against him, my tears falling freely now. “They’re my friends too, damn it!”
“Enough!” His voice is a harsh bark, silencing me for a moment. “You can hate me all you want later, but right now, we’re getting out of here.”
Before I can respond, a faint whistle cuts through the chaos, its eerie note rising above the din. The hellhounds freeze, their heads snapping toward the sound. My heart stops as they turn away from the villagers, their eyes fixed on the source of the noise.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Garet mutters under his breath, his hand tightening on mine. “We really have to get out of here, Eva. Stay low, and whatever happens, don’t let him see you.”
“Who?” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Who is it?”
He doesn’t answer, just pulls me behind a crumbling wall, his eyes darting nervously. The whistle stops, leaving a suffocating silence. My heart races, the unspoken fear between us thick and heavy.
“Their handler. He controls them all. They are his pets.”
“But there are hundreds of them,” I counter. “He surely can’t control them all.” Then, as if the severity of the situation is just hitting me, I scream, “Kendry! We have to warn him.”
I don’t wait for Garet to respond, nor do I care what he might say; my mind is already made up. I run faster than I ever have in my life, taking all the shortcuts I’ve discovered over the years. My feet pound against the familiar forest path, and with each step, I can’t help but feel a creeping guilt settle into my chest, heavy and relentless, as if this is all my fault. With each step, my necklace rises and falls against my chest, bringing a flood of memories—of laughter and training, of the countless times Kendry and I walked this path together. Now, the once comforting route feels like a race against time.
I reflect on the stories Kendry told me as a child, the tales of ancient battles and dark creatures. My mind races, trying to piece together what I know—the hellhounds, the shadowfiends, the dreams. Everything seems connected, but I can’t quite grasp how.
Garet finally catches up with me, and in his hand is a much prettier sword than what he had before. Not only is it pretty, but it is also clean, almost as if it has just appeared. It looks stunningly similar to the one the man had yesterday.
“Eva, we need to be careful. Whatever did this is still here.” Garet says, his voice tense but resolute.
The cottage comes into view, or what’s left of it. My heart plummets at the sight. The once cozy and welcoming home is now a smoldering wreck, its walls charred and the roof partially collapsed. Flames lick at the remaining wooden beams, casting an ominous glow against the dark night sky.
The familiar garden where Kendry grew his herbs and remedies is trampled and scorched, a stark contrast to the vibrant life it held just this morning. Smoke billows from the ruins, carrying the scent of burning wood and herbs, stinging my eyes and throat as I approach.
Suddenly, I hear yelling—a voice filled with pain and desperation. My heart leaps into my throat as I recognizeKendry’s voice. Panic surges through me, and I sprint the remaining distance to the cottage, weaving through the debris.
