Page 94 of Unseen Eye
“Is he a gnome?” I whisper to Cal, trying to be discreet but failing miserably.
Cal freezes for a second before turning to me with a slow, exaggerated facepalm. He covers his face with his hand for a moment, then looks at me with a barely suppressed laugh. “No... He’s a dwarf,” he whispers back, shooting me a look like he’s both amused and mortified.
Cleary stands in the doorway, short and stocky like you’d expect, but that’s where the familiarity ends. His broad shoulders and muscular arms seem out of place against the scholarly air about him. Rather than the ruggedness of a laborer, Cleary’s hands are ink-stained, and his fingers twitch slightly, as if itching to hold a quill instead of a hammer. His eyes, sharp and constantly moving, scan us with an almost academic curiosity. Instead of the gruffness I expect, there’s a calm intelligence in his gaze, like he’s cataloging every detail, not to judge but to understand.
I step forward, offering my hand. “Hi, I’m Eva,” I say, hoping for a friendly reception.
Cleary’s eyes narrow slightly, not in suspicion, but as though he’s mentally filing away this new piece of information. He doesn’t shake my hand. Instead, he clasps his own together, muttering something under his breath about “dirt.” It’s awkward, but there’s no malice in it—more like a scholar too preoccupied with thoughts to engage in pleasantries. Cal coughs to hide his laugh, and I quickly drop my hand, not sure whether to be offended or amused.
Gesturing us inside, Cleary’s house is as unexpected as he is. It’s small, with three cramped rooms with beaten earth floors—a seating area with a stove and table, a bedroom, and a washroom tucked to the side. But what really catches my attention is the sheer number of books and scrolls. They’re everywhere, coveringevery surface, stacked in uneven piles on the floor, and crammed into shelves that sag under the weight. Parchments filled with notes and drawings line the walls, creating a chaotic but fascinating archive. I trail my fingers over the spines of several books as I move toward the table, not recognizing a single title. Most are written in languages I can’t even begin to understand.
“Have you been able to decipher anything?” Cal asks Cleary.
“Not yet,” Cleary mutters. “Kla’rgon do’shi promitus. Most of these words I haven’t seen in hundreds of years.”
“Can you start with this one?” Cal reaches into his bag and pulls out the book I found with the runes. “We’d like to know what these runes mean. We think they’re the same ones on the gate.”
Cleary rips the book from Cal’s hands and begins flipping through the pages, his eyes widening. “Where did you get this? The combination of magic and blood magic here is unheard of.”
I exchange a look with Izzy. “Did you say blood magic?” Izzy asks.
“Yes,” Cleary answers, as if it’s obvious. “How else did you think the Gods made the gates strong enough?”
“I never thought about it before,” Theo says with a shrug, “but I never imagined they’d resort to dark magic.”
“There’s a difference between blood magic and dark magic, rune master,” Cleary counters, finally looking up. “Where did you get this?” he asks Cal again.
“Let’s just say I found it,” Cal answers nonchalantly.
“Can you have it done by the end of the week?” Izzy asks.
Cleary gives a slow nod and then turns to me, studying me intently. His gaze pours over every inch of me, finally settling on my eyes. “On one condition,” he says slowly.
“What’s that?” Cal asks.
Cleary’s gaze sharpens, his voice low but laced with disbelief. “You need to tell me how the daughter of Kora has come to standbefore me.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I feel like the breath has been knocked out of me. My mind is spinning, grasping wildly at Cleary’s words, trying to hold onto something real, something stable. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat, each beat like a hammer against stone. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I glance at Izzy and Theo. Their wide eyes and slack jaws mirror the shock I’m feeling. They’re staring at me as though I’m someone else, a stranger cloaked in secrets none of us were prepared for.
But Cal’s expression remains calm, almost neutral.
He looks at Cleary with a seriousness that’s unsettling. “How do you know?”
Theo mutters under his breath, “What the actual fuck…” His eyes dart between me and Cleary.
Cleary’s gaze stays locked on me, unwavering. “It’s the eyes,” he says, his voice low but certain. “They’re exactly like hers.”
Everyone turns to look at me, their eyes scanning my features as though searching for pieces of a ghost from the past. I feel exposed, bare, as if they’re peeling away layers, I didn’t know I had, each look confirming what Cleary’s just said.
“Kora didn’t have violet eyes,” Cal cuts in.
Cleary nods, unbothered, “No, but she had those silver specks. And the shape—the freckles, the cheekbones, the curve of her chin—it’s her, through and through.” His gaze shifts down to my necklace, and he tilts his head, studying it intently. “Where did you get that?”
I swallow hard, my throat dry. “The person who raised me, Kendry… he gave it to me. He told me it was my mother’s.”
Cleary’s eyes soften, almost in recognition, as if something painful has finally settled. “That necklace—it’s unmistakable.Kora never took it off. It’s said to be forged from the heart of a fallen star, a symbol of the bond between worlds.”
