Page 7 of Unseen Eye
As we grew older, our adventures evolved, but remained just as thrilling. Our nights often ended at the local pub, where stories grew bolder and more fantastical with each round of ale. Finn’s tales of our childhood escapades became more exaggerated, Nessa’s cautiousness turned into witty remarks, and our discussions about the future became more serious. Finn would follow in his father’s footsteps and become a blacksmith, while Nessa saw herself pursuing a more serious career in medicine. Garet planned to take over his father’s business but dreamed of traveling the world. While I always dreamed of a quiet life as a writer.
As we make our way through the lively streets, the festive atmosphere does little to mask the somber undertones. Missing persons posters are plastered across buildings, their edges curling and yellowing. The faces of the missing stare back at us, their eyes filled with stories left untold. Disappearances are not uncommon, but unlikely in our village. The increasing number of vanishings has cast a shadow over the community, a constant reminder of how easily our sense of normalcy can be shattered.
We eventually reach the Boar’s Head. The flickering light of the hearth giving off a welcoming glow, making the darkening thoughts about the missing people seem distant, at least for a moment. We find a corner table, settle in, and Finn heads to the bar to order the first round of drinks.
Finn raises his mug, a mischievous glint in his eye. “To friends and adventures, past and future!”
We all clink our mugs together, and I take a deep sip, savoring the rich taste of the ale. As the conversation flows, Finn beginsrecounting his latest romantic mishap. “So, there was this girl, right? Beautiful, smart, the whole package. I thought I was doing great until I accidentally set her dress on fire.”
Nessa chokes on her drink, laughing. “You what?”
Finn grins sheepishly. “It was an accident! I was trying to impress her with a fancy flambé dish. I thought a bit of dramatic flair would do the trick, but... well, you know me. Instead of impressing her, I turned her dress into a torch.”
Garet shakes his head, chuckling. “Only you, Finn. Only you.”
Nessa, still giggling, adds, “And this is why I stay single. No one in this village is interesting enough to date.”
I raise an eyebrow, teasing. “Maybe you’re just too picky, Nessa.”
Garet smirks and leans in. “Yeah, why don’t you just date Finn? He’s clearly a master of romance.”
Finn laughs, throwing his hands up in mock defense. “Hey, I like to keep things exciting! Besides, Nessa and I would kill each other within a week.”
Nessa nods, a smirk on her face. “True. I’d probably end up setting you on fire just to even the score.”
As laughter subsides, Finn suddenly grins mischievously. “Speaking of excitement, Eva, remember that time you took that guy to the festival? You were all dressed up, looking beautiful, and then you tripped over the straw bales and landed right in the punch bowl?”
I groan, my cheeks warming. “Thanks for reminding me.”
Finn bursts out laughing. “He was so shocked he just stood there while you floundered around like a fish out of water! And the best part? You were still trying to act like nothing happened.”
Nessa chuckles, nudging me. “At least you keep it entertaining!”
We all laugh, the sound mingling with the lively chatter of the pub. The ale flows freely, and our stories become more animatedwith each drink. As the night progresses, we overhear snippets of conversation from a nearby booth where an old man with a scraggly beard speaks with a subdued tone.
“And then there are the disappearances,” the old man says, his words cutting through the chatter. “Over the last few months, people have been vanishing without a trace in the dead of night. It’s as if they simply ceased to exist, leaving no clue behind.”
Intrigued, Finn leans closer. “More missing people? Here in Pinebrook?”
The old man nods gravely. “Aye, that’s right. It started with a few, but now it seems like every fortnight we hear of another soul vanishing into thin air. Some blame bandits, others whisper about creatures of the night. But whatever the cause,” he continued, his voice tinged with resignation, “the king’s indifference is what troubles me most.”
I share a look with Nessa, thinking of the posters we saw earlier. “Indifference?” she echoes, her tone laced with concern.
At the same time, Finn snorts, and says, “creatures of the night? Sounds like the kind of story you’d come up with, Eva.”
I resist an eye roll, but he is not entirely wrong. Meanwhile, the old man nods gravely, “Aye, you’d think with all his talk of prosperity and order, he’d take notice of such things. But no, not a word from the palace. It’s as if these poor souls never existed.”
My friends exchange uneasy glances, and Finn lets out a dismissive snort. “Typical Alaric,” he muttered into his tankard. “More interested in filling his coffers than looking out for his people.”
Nessa furrows her brow. “How can he ignore something like this?”
The old man shrugs, a mixture of frustration and bitterness etched into his weathered face. “Who’s to say? The king has yet to acknowledge it. It’s as if these vanishings are beneath his notice, like the lives lost mean nothing to him.”
Garet listens intently but is oddly quiet. Eventually, his gaze focuses. “Have you seen anything unusual?”
The old man shakes his head. “No, not me personally. But I’ve heard stories from those who claim to have seen strange lights in the forest or heard eerie sounds in the dead of night. Blood-curdling screams that make your skin crawl, shadows that move with a life of their own. It’s enough to make you wonder if something far more sinister is at play.”
Nessa’s brow furrows in thought. “It’s disturbing,” she says, glancing over at me. “People are disappearing without a trace, and there’s no response from the palace...”
