Page 73 of Unseen Eye
“It’s nothing. Let’s continue,” Eamon snaps.
Slowly, the group begins to move through the narrow passage, its path so tight it requires them to go single file. Eamon hesitates, letting the others go ahead of him while Erik takes the lead.
A sickening knot tightens in my stomach.
Right then, Eamon whistles—a sharp, piercing sound that makes everyone stop in their tracks. Suddenly, figures emerge from the rocky slopes above, descending with alarming speed. “It’s a trap!” Erik shouts, his voice echoing through the canyon. He doesn’t waste a moment—sword in hand, he cuts down the nearest attackers.
But there are too many of them.
Aaliyah draws her sword with practiced ease. The flames that leap from her hand are an awe-inspiring display of power, making me forget for a moment that she’s carrying a child.
She’s a firebender, I realize in awe. Because, of course, Callon’s mother would be a badass.
But no matter how powerful she is, they’re surrounded.
Erik fights with the kind of fury that only betrayal can ignite. His sword swings with blinding speed, tearing through their attackers, but even his strength can’t hold them back forever. His scream rises above the chaos, a thunderous roar of betrayal: “Eamon! You’ve damned us all, you traitorous bastard!”
His rage fuels his strikes, but it’s not enough.
The tide turns. Lightning arcs from the attackers’ hands, wallsof earth slam down, and freezing blasts of water crash against them. With each blow, Erik’s strength wanes, until his final cry is nothing but a whisper, his eyes dimming as he collapses. “Forgive me, Drystan...” His body falls, heavy and lifeless.
“Erik!” Aaliyah screams, but it’s too late. The life has already drained from him. She falls next, her fire extinguishing with the force of the blow. The world slows, and I feel her presence fading, like the last embers of a dying flame.
No! The wave of helplessness that crashes over me is suffocating, a familiar weight that drags me under. I glance back toward Eamon, but he’s gone, disappearing into the shadows, leaving nothing but a trail of chaos behind him.
“Come, men!” one of the remaining soldiers calls out, his voice too cheery, too casual for the blood-soaked scene before him. “It’s a night of celebration! Long live Astermiri.”
I sink to my knees beside Aaliyah, my hands trembling as I take hers. Her skin is already cold. The warmth of life slipping away from her, fading like a dying star. Slowly, her head turns, her gray eyes locking onto mine as if she can see me from across the boundary of time itself, as if she knows I’m here.
“Awake,” she whispers, her voice a hollow echo. And then, suddenly, I’m gone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The room is aglow with a bright white light. I sit up and throw my blanket off me. My hands are glowing. I am glowing. I am the light. My fingers radiate a soft, luminescent glow, streaks of light tracing up my arms like veins, pulsing with the aether that seems to flow directly from within. The bright glow pulses, fed by something deep inside, as if the magic itself is being drawn from my core, lighting up my skin with each heartbeat. Gradually, the glow fades, and I catch my reflection in the mirror, relieved as my irises stop glowing and return to their usual dark purple. With sleep out of the question and the sun beginning to rise, I throw on a pair of leathers and a sweater and head back down to the war room. If I can’t sleep, I might as well make use of this energy.
My mind races, trying to process the chaos of what I just saw. The dream was too vivid, too real, too powerful to be just that—just a dream. There’s something tangible here, something I can’t shake. I tear through the scattered parchment in front of me, frantically searching for the map, but it’s nowhere to be found. Frustrated, I shove everything aside and sprawl out on the table, staring up at the map drawn above me.
What am I missing?” I mutter under my breath, as if the walls themselves might offer some answer.
And then I see it. There it is, staring back at me: the Crystalwood Forest. My pulse quickens. I mentally trace the path where the mountain passage would be. Holy shit. It lines up perfectly.
I grab my journal and start matching the locations from my dreams to the map. One by one, they fall into place. The name Gun Choire keeps popping up, but it’s nowhere to be foundon the map. I can’t shake the feeling that it should be here—somewhere. I press on, the connection between the map and my journal growing clearer with each passing minute.
The world around me fades into the background. I don’t notice the sun climbing high in the sky, nor the door creaking open behind me.
“Eva,” Theo’s voice is distant, almost amused. “Uh, what are you doing?”
I barely register his words. My eyes are glued to the pages of the journal, the locations lining up with eerie precision. I’m on the verge of something. I can feel it. The room, the world, everything else just falls away. Theo mutters something under his breath before I hear his footsteps retreat. Izzy comes in later, but by then, I’m too absorbed to notice anything but the map.
Time passes in a blur. The hours slip by unnoticed. I’m racing through the entries, over three-fourths of the way through my journal when I hear the door creak open again.
“Has she really been like this all day?” Izzy’s voice is low, filled with dry amusement.
“Yes,” Theo replies with a hint of exasperation.
“Should we check if she’s still alive?” His voice drips with sarcasm.
“She’s definitely breathing. I can see it from here,” Izzy retorts with a hint of a smirk in her voice.
