Page 46 of Unseen Eye
From the shadows, a figure emerges, cloaked in darkness and exuding a terrifying power. His cloak billows around him, but it’s not the wind that stirs it—it’s his presence, cutting through the air with an unnatural stillness. His footsteps are almost silent, yet there’s a weight to them, as if each one echoes with a promise of destruction.
Izzy, who’s rejoined me, spots the figure and groans, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Callon’s eyes narrow, his voice tense. “That’s a shadow warden. A nightmare made flesh.”
The warden’s hair is short, stark black, and spiked like shards of night itself. His face is sharp, angular—carved from stone, with high cheekbones and a jaw set in a permanent scowl. His skin is pale, almost translucent, with shadowy veins pulsing beneath the surface. His eyes, a stormy gray, twist with a dark intelligence, contrasting the commander’s black onyx eyes.
His armor, forged from obsidian, gleams menacingly in the firelight. Intricate runes shimmer on his chestplate, glowing faintly with aether. A tattered black cloak billows behind him, defying the stillness of the battlefield. Unlike the commander I faced at the cottage, whose movements were fluid and graceful, the warden’s presence is heavy, oppressive. The warriors around him hesitate, their attention drawn by an invisible force. Even their breath seems to pause, unwilling to disturb the silence that follows him.
The warden’s sword is a void, absorbing the light around it and crackling with an unnerving energy.
Izzy’s voice is low, almost fearful. “He’s got his eyes on you, Eva.”
I glance at the warden, who moves with unerring purpose. His gaze locks on me as if I’m the only thing on this battlefield.
“Get away from here, now!” Callon commands, stepping between me and the warden. His tone leaves no room for argument.
I start to protest, but Callon interrupts, his expression deadly serious. “Eva, listen to me. I know you can fight. You’ve proven that. But this… this is different.”
He glances back at the warden, who continues his relentless advance. “Wardens are rare, and they’re powerful. You need strong magic to defeat them—magic you can’t control yet. But you will. In time.”
Izzy, her usual humor gone, looks at Callon with concern. “Don’t burn yourself out, Cal. You’ve already used a lot of magic.”
Callon nods, then his gaze softens as he looks at me. “I’m not telling you not to fight. Just not him. Not yet.” He tries to lighten the moment with a wry smile. “Next time we see a warden, he’s all yours. I promise.”
His words, especially the “we,” send a strange flutter through my chest. For a moment, it feels like he sees right through me, sensing my anxiety. I nod, swallowing hard.
“Be careful, Callon,” my voice steady despite the fear thrumming through me. “And next time, he’s definitely mine.”
Callon offers a tight, reassuring smile. “Always. Now go.”
As I turn to move away, I catch Izzy watching us, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if she’s piecing something together. There’s a flicker of curiosity in her gaze, as though she’s seeing something in Callon that hadn’t been clear before.
Glancing back at Callon, I see him stepping toward the shadow warden, his expression shifting to one of cold indifference. His eyes are calculating, every move measured as he assesses his opponent with the precision of a seasoned warrior.
The air crackles with tension as the battle begins. The warden strikes first, sweeping his hand to summon tendrils of darkmagic that snake toward Callon with alarming speed, leaving trails of inky blackness in their wake.
Callon responds with equal ferocity, drawing upon his affinity. Energy pulses through him as he channels the aether, summoning a torrent of aethereal light that clashes brilliantly against the warden’s darkness. The forces collide, sending shockwaves through the battlefield.
The warden’s lips curl into a twisted smile. “What an honor to face the prince himself,” he taunts, his voice a deep rumble that cuts through the chaos. “But you are not the one I seek. It’s the girl I need.”
Callon’s jaw tightens. “Humor me and explain why. Who needs her?” he demands, sending another wave of aether toward the warden.
The warden effortlessly deflects the attack with a flick of his wrist, his smile widening. “If you don’t know, then you clearly don’t understand what’s at play. Now, give me the girl.”
“Never,” Callon declares, ending the discussion. He charges forward, their swords meeting with a resounding clang, sparks fly with each clash. The warden relentlessly hurls dark magic, but Callon stands firm, redirecting the energy into bursts of aether.
Magic and steel intertwine as the battle reaches a fever pitch. Callon’s sword glows with raw energy, channeling the power of ley lines beneath the earth. With a fierce swing, he drives earthen spikes up from the ground, jagged and deadly, aiming directly for the warden. But the warden is ready. A wall of shadow springs up before him, the spikes shattering against it in a burst of dirt and stone.
The warden retaliates, launching black tendrils of shadow that lash out like whips. Callon dives and rolls, narrowly avoiding them as they crack the ground where he stood moments ago.
Callon springs to his feet, and the air hums with energy ashe draws deeper from the aether. His sword pulses with light, slashing it in a wide arc, sending a crescent-shaped wave of pure energy hurtling toward the warden. The attack tears through the battlefield, but the warden raises his hand, forming a dark barrier. The energy crashes against it, shattering like glass against the impenetrable shield.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the warden closes the gap, moving with unnatural speed, his blade aimed directly at Callon’s chest.
Around me, the earth shakes with the force of their fight. I can barely focus on the enemies in front of me, cutting down hellhounds almost mechanically as my attention is drawn to the duel. Callon’s eyes, once a faint glow, now blaze with an intensity I’ve never seen. He’s fighting like a man possessed—determined, relentless.
Garet, nearby, slashes through a darkling, his usual calm cracking as he watches Callon’s fight unfold. His grip tightens on his sword, his attention, like mine, torn between his own battle and the duel. Even Izzy, fighting at my side, can’t help but glance at them. “He’s such a showoff,” she mutters through clenched teeth as she impales a hellhound. Despite her frustration, there’s a hint of pride in her voice.
