Page 62 of Unseen Eye
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True to his word, Callon finds me an hour later. My legs feel like they’re made of lead, and the last sixty minutes have been an internal struggle to sort through my emotions. I should be excited—after all, isn’t this what I’ve wanted for weeks? To go back, to get answers? But instead, I’m drowning in nerves. What if it’s worse than I thought? Did anyone investigate the aftermath of the attack? Did they find Kendry’s body? Or worse, did they think I had died with him?
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t hear Callon approach until he’s right next to me. Dressed in his usual black attire, a sword strapped to his back, he holds a cloak in his hand, his eyes studying me carefully.
“You know, you didn’t have to wait here,” he teases, as if he sees right through the wariness on my face. “I would have found you, eventually.” He hands me the cloak
I take it from him, my hands feeling suddenly too heavy. “Thanks,” I murmur, pulling the cloak tighter around my shoulders, though it does little to ease the chill creeping up myspine.
“Theo isn’t joining us?” I ask, glancing over his shoulder, half-expecting to see him walking up.
“No, it’s just us. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but sometimes there are perks to being the prince,” he chuckles.
I smile, picturing the fit Theo must have thrown when he found out he wasn’t coming. “Also,” Callon begins, drawing my attention back to him, “here, take this too.” He hands me another dagger. “Better to have two than rely on one.”
Callon draws another dagger from his sheath, holding it next to mine. The runes are different, more intricate. “This one,” he says, pointing to mine, “is etched for accuracy. Just a little extra help to ensure it finds its target.” He gestures to his own. “This one is for speed.”
“How?” I ask, intrigued.
“These runes are old,” he says, his gaze thoughtful as he taps the side of his blade. “Honestly, I’m not sure how many people outside Coire remember them. But the gods created some that will activate when you need them most. In your moment of greatest need.”
I watch as Callon’s eyes flick to the blade’s molten hue—like burnt copper tinged with shadows. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, almost… unnatural. Before I can ask, he explains, “The color? It comes from an ore found deep in the caves here, hidden in the mountains. It’s rare, and it makes killing the creatures of the abyss just a little easier.”
I nod, trying to absorb the information. “So how exactly are we going to get there? I’m assuming blinking is the fastest option?”
“Exactly,” Callon replies. “I’m hoping it won’t knock you out this time, but just in case, we’ll take it slow once we get there.” He extends his hand.
I take a deep breath, centering myself before I reach out and take it. “Ready?” Callon asks, a spark of something in his eyes.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say with a smile, wondering if he can feel my heart pounding through my hand.
Callon gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before focusing. The air around us shimmers slightly as he prepares to blink. In an instant, the sensation of displacement washes over me, and I close my eyes, bracing for the jarring transition. It feels like the air has been knocked out of me, but suddenly my feet are back on solid ground, and the temperature has dropped. I open my eyes slowly, still gripping Callon’s hand, and find him watching me with a surprised look
“Congratulations,” he says. “You didn’t pass out.”
“Were you worried about me, darling?” I throw his own words back at him, unable to stop myself. My voice is half-hearted, breathless as I lean over, hands on my knees, still catching my breath. Testing my balance, I straighten and take in the surroundings. The forest here feels almost untouched, like a memory of Pinebrook frozen in time—the same old path lined with towering oaks that once led me home. Each twist and bend etched into my mind from childhood, and it pulls at me with a strange, haunting familiarity.
I glance at Callon, who gives me a reassuring nod. Without a word, I start walking, my legs moving as though they remember this path better than my heart does.
“This is the closest I could blink us with the wards,” Callon says from behind.
“Have you heard anything about the village since?” I ask over my shoulder, unwilling to slow down, like pausing might make the reality sink in harder.
“No,” he says, quickening his pace to match mine. Just as he catches up, he places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “There’s one more thing,” he murmurs, his touch warm, steady. “I know it’s hard, but for now… try to stay out of sight.” He reaches up and pulls the hood of my cloak over my head, hisfingers lingering a moment longer than they need to.
My heart sinks, but I know he’s right. If I walk openly through the village, questions will follow, whispers I’m not ready to answer. With a nod, I keep moving, and after what feels like both a second and an eternity, we reach the outskirts.
The village is unrecognizable. Chunks of the stone wall that once stood proudly now litter the ground. I step closer, careful to avoid the loose stones, feeling each step pull me deeper into memories I can’t shake. The village itself feels like a shadow, a broken version of the place I love. Overgrown weeds choke gardens that were once tended with care, and the air carries a stale, decaying scent, the heaviness of something long abandoned.
We pass the bakery, the blacksmiths, the Boar’s Head tavern, and then my bookshop. Each place stabs a little deeper, and I feel a pang of something bitter, something heavy.
“Do you think anyone is still here?” My voice is barely a whisper.
Callon scans the area, his expression grave. “It’s hard to say… but since we don’t see any bodies, I’d guess some managed to survive. They’d have tended to the dead.”
The mention of it twists in me, sharper than I expected. “Finn, Nessa…” I can barely say their names, my voice trailing off as memories rush in. Tears I’ve held back since we arrived sting my eyes, and I quickly look away, unwilling to let them fall. Finn, with his unshakable smile and the way he could turn any chore into a game, and Nessa, who always found a reason to laugh, even on the hardest days. They weren’t just friends; they were family, anchors in a life that already feels distant like it’s slipping from me.
Callon’s words offer a fragile hope—a small relief that maybe, just maybe, they survived. I cling to it, but it feels thin, barely enough to hold against the crushing silence. The thoughtof finding them here, even with everything ruined, would be something—a sign that not all is lost. But if they’re gone, if there’s no one left to remember the small things, the shared jokes, the countless hours we spent in this village… I’m not sure there’s anything left to come back to.
