Page 39 of Unseen Eye
At his command, the crowd falls silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a shroud. All eyes turn to the stage, waiting for the next moment in this unprecedented event.
Baron steps forward, his commanding presence forcing an immediate hush. He raises his hand, and the noise dies completely. “Eva, please step forward.”
The jester’s words hang in the air, and I almost choke. “Really? This is how I’m being introduced? Who the hell has a jester for this kind of thing? Great. Just great.”
My legs feel like lead, every step heavier than the last. When I finally reach the center of the field, I yank off my heels—one less thing to trip over. In an unhinged moment of defiance, I throw them at Callon. He dodges effortlessly. Bastard.
The eyes of everyone present bore into me, and I can feel their expectations pressing down. The night air feels stifling,and my breaths come shallow and rapid. Leigh gives me a final, reassuring nod from the sidelines, but it does little to ease my anxiety. Across from me, the guards bring out several wooden crates.
Clearly, Baron is in for a show if he thinks I can not only summon the light but aim it as well. It’s comical, which makes me want to laugh. Almost.
I close my eyes, trying to summon the light within me. The memory of the attack, the fear, and the desperation that triggered my power flashes through my mind. I take a deep breath, willing the energy to surface.
I try to focus on the warmth of the light I felt back then, the warmth that surged through me in my moment of need. But now, under the pressure of so many watching eyes, it feels impossible. The crowd holds its breath, waiting for something to happen.
My mind screams at me to do something, anything. I can sense their thoughts, their impatience and their doubt radiating as they stare at me like a caged animal, willing me to perform. Each second stretches into eternity, the weight of their expectations pressing down on me.
A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead, a physical manifestation of the fear gripping my heart. I strain, pushing myself harder, trying to grasp at this elusive power within me. It feels just out of reach, slipping like water through my fingers. My hands start to tremble, and a sense of despair begins to creep in. What if I really can’t do this? What if I was never meant to have this power?
I mutter under my breath, the words barely audible. Come on, light. They’re going to kill me if you don’t show up soon. I snort softly, bitterly. Wow, I’ve really hit rock bottom if I’m begging the light to come to my rescue.
Memories of the past few days flood my mind—a whirlwindof lies and secrets catching up with me. This damn light, the sinister plots, political motives, and last but not least, me not being fucking human—all of it converges into a maelstrom of confusion and fear. I feel isolated, trapped in a web of expectations and responsibilities. I’m just an orphan, trying to mourn the loss of the only family I’ve ever known.
Glancing around, I see the faces of those who have placed their hopes in me—Baron’s stern expression, Leigh’s encouraging smile, Garet’s uneasiness, and the unreadable gaze of Callon. Their eyes bore into me, expecting a miracle. Their piercing eyes are suffocating, adding to the insurmountable pressure.
But amid the turmoil, I remember Kendry’s stories, all the tales of bravery. I may not have asked for this, but I will not back down. With one last deep breath, I summon all my willpower, using the potentially life-altering fear of failure, pushing aside the doubt, and embracing the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I can harness this power.
The seconds stretch, but I’m no longer counting them. Instead, I focus inward, listening to the rising hum of energy beneath my skin. I feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let them fall.
Finally, a faint, barely perceptible glow begins to emanate from my hands. It’s weak, but it’s something! The crowd leans in, their collective breath held in anticipation. I focus harder, willing the light to grow stronger, brighter.
As I muster a smile, it feels hollow, a thin mask over the storm swirling inside. For a brief second, I catch glimpses of relief on the surrounding faces, but it evaporates as quickly as it appeared. A collective groan ripples through the crowd, low and disappointed, and someone near the back mutters, “That’s it?”
The flicker of hope sputters out, as fragile as a candle in the wind. Every muscle in my body aches, my breath comes in ragged gasps, and I know—that’s all I can give. My heart sinkslike a stone, heavy with failure.
Baron’s face turns a deep shade of red, lunging forward, his fury evident. “Garet!” He barks, “Grab your sword. Maybe she needs to stare death in the eyes again.”
Garet’s eyes widen in shock. “Father. She’s been through enough.”
Baron’s expression hardens. “Do it. Now!”
Garet hesitates, a mixture of frustration and concern etched on his face. He looks at me, his eyes pleading for forgiveness, then turns to retrieve his sword.
My heart pounds in my chest, the blood roaring in my ears. Every inch of me trembles as the weight of this moment crushes down. The crowd shifts uneasily, their murmurs a soft buzz of disbelief. I want to shrink away, but my feet are cemented to the ground.
As Garet moves toward the center, sword in hand, Callon steps forward, his presence instantly shifting the atmosphere. All eyes turn to him, drawn like magnets. He raises a hand, his voice low but commanding, “I’ll do the honors.”
Izzy shakes her head, muttering something under her breath I can’t make out.
Baron and Garet both start to protest, but Callon raises a hand. With a flick of his wrist, Garet is sent flying backward, landing with a thud. A gasp ripples through the crowd. Baron opens his mouth to shout, but an invisible gag silences him, his eyes bulging with shock and rage.
Meanwhile, Drystan stands there with a cold smile, as if he’s enjoying the show his son is putting on. “Oh shit,” I murmur, unable to tear my eyes away from Callon, as I hear the crowd start to gasp.
He stands there, a figure of terrifying beauty and power. His irises glow with that unearthly light, and his expression is one of cold determination. A wave of emotions crashes over me:fear, awe, and... something else. An inexplicable pull, like gravity—magnetic and impossible to ignore. I tell myself it’s just the power in him that’s pulling at me, but it’s harder to convince myself with every step he takes.
The crowd is tense, a mix of awe and fear in their eyes. Whispers of Callon’s power and his sudden intervention spread like wildfire. Izzy appears, clutching my hand tightly, her face pale. She hands me a sword. “Just breathe, Eva,” she whispers.
Ironic, considering she isn’t trying to help me stop this…
