Page 16 of Unseen Eye
“Tell me what I can do. Tell me how to fix you,” I scream through the tears.
Kendry’s face softens. “There is nothing you can do. We don’t have much time. Garet?”
Garet steps forward, steadfast by my side. Kendry and Garet have never met before; Kendry avoids markets and crowds. Though I’ve spoken of him often, it’s not enough for instant recognition.
They lock eyes. It’s not a look of surprise, but one of recognition—of some unspoken understanding that passes between them like a ripple in the air. Garet nods slowly, a silent agreement.
I stare at the two of them, struggling to place it. It doesn’t add up. How can they lock eyes like this, like they’ve known each other for ages?
“You need to get her out of here. More will come when they realize what happened. That power surge was too strong toignore,” Kendry says, each word strained, his energy waning.
“Help him!” I plead through tears streaming down my face.
“There’s nothing I can do. I can’t save both of you. I’m not that strong,” Garet admits in a whispered tone, reluctance evident. He tries to pry me away from Kendry, but I cling desperately.
Garet’s efforts strain my muscles, reigniting the bleeding from my sides. Blood rushes out anew, and I feel my strength ebbing. The world spins around me, but my focus is elsewhere.
“Kendry, I’m so sorry,” I sob, guilt and regret heavy in my voice. “This is all my fault. I should have told you everything.”
Kendry tries to respond, but either no words come or I can’t hear them over the rushing darkness that envelops me next.
Chapter Seven
I wake up slowly, my eyes blinking against the soft light. As the world comes into focus, I notice the delicate, embroidered silk curtains, their patterns of leaves and vines casting gentle shadows on the walls. The room is bathed in soft greens and golds, from the lush drapes to the polished wooden furniture, its edges kissed by gilded accents.
I begin to notice a dull ache radiating from my arm and side. My eyes fall on the simple nightgown replacing my torn clothes, its soft fabric a stark contrast to the rough, bloodied garments I had before. I gingerly inspect my side, and a sharp pain shoots through me as my fingers trace a thin, raised scar running along my side, with a matching one across my arm. There’s no blood, no sign of a wound, just this lingering mark—like a bad memory etched into my skin.
I walk to the open window, and as I look out, the view takes my breath away. Perched high above the ground, I can see rolling hills covered in lush greenery stretching as far as the eye can see, dotted with vibrant wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. The sky is a clear, brilliant blue, and the air carries the faint scent of honey and wildflowers—so different from the pine air and city streets of Providence. In the distance, a serene lake reflects the sunlight, its surface sparkling like a thousand tiny diamonds. The tranquility and beauty of the scene make it painfully clear that I’m far from home. I try to piece together how I got here, but my thoughts swim in a fog of confusion and fragmented memories. There were shadows, an attack, and then… nothing.
Returning to bed, my hand instinctively reaches up to feel the familiar weight of my necklace. It’s cool metal grounding me in the unsettling reality of the moment.
Voices begin to stir outside the room, distant yet unmistakably familiar. My heart skips a beat. Could it be? It sounds like Garet—but that’s impossible. What is he doing here?
As I strain to listen, the voices grow clearer, confirming my suspicion. It is Garet, and he sounds urgent, almost frantic. Confusion swirls in my mind. What are they talking about? Why is Garet arguing with someone?
“You shouldn’t have brought her here, Garet!” a stern voice cuts in. It’s laced with anger and authority. “You know the risks. If they find out she’s here, we’re all in danger. You’re lucky she’s not in the cells right now, while I figure out this mess.”
“I had to,” Garet’s voice responds urgently. “She was bleeding out. If I hadn’t brought her to Leigh, she would have died.”
Leigh? I think to myself, the name is unfamiliar. There’s a moment of tense silence before the stern voice speaks again, its tone lower but still filled with frustration. “And what do you expect to accomplish by bringing her here? The abyss is moving faster than we anticipated. Why were they there? After all this time, have you not learned anything?”
Despite being certain they are arguing about me, none of it is making any sense.
Garet’s voice holds a sense of urgency. “I needed to protect her. I couldn’t just stand around while they attacked.”
The voice softens slightly but concern still lingers. “You’ve grown soft, I see. You don’t understand, Garadith. We won’t have long before the others find out. Drystan surely already knows. We need a plan, and we need it now.”
As those words hang in the air, a flood of memories rushes back to me like a relentless tide. I remember the village—burning, flashes of fire, the commander’s chilling stare, Kendry’s bravery... and then the darkness consuming everything.
The realization hits me like a blow to the chest. The shadows, the commander—were they after me? But why? What did theywant?
Before I can sort through the whirlwind of thoughts, the door creaks open. Garet steps into the room, his face etched with stress and worry. His eyes meet mine, and he sees the fear in my expression.
“Eva,” he says softly, stepping closer. “It’s me, Garet.”
I shrink back instinctively, my heart pounding in my chest. “Who are you?” I ask, my voice trembling. “What’s going on? Where the hell am I?”
Garet’s brow furrows with sorrow, but he quickly masks it, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Eva, it’s me—Garet,” he says slowly, his voice steady and gentle. “You were hurt badly. I had to bring you here so Leigh could treat you. You were bleeding out, and...”
