Page 127 of Cursed Dreams
Thalia’s throat tightened. “Caelum,” she whispered. “The prince of the Forgotten Realms. The fae aren’t dead, at least their Prince isn’t. He’s trapped in a dream state beyond the veil. I’ve seen him since the first night I arrived, I’ve dream walked with him. And the night of the equinox when the veil thinned, he crossed over to find me. I know this sound crazy but it’s true. He’s trapped there. We’re soul bonded, Iknowit. Ifeltit while I was with him. And Vaelith—he’s trying to keep him trapped. He’s hiding something, no, he’s hidingeverything. He was there in the wars; he helped build the veil and trapped the prince. I’ve been trying to find the Forgotten Forest, the temple of Kek is there and it holds the truth about what really happened in the war. He’s been guarding the temple to stop me from dream walking. He’s ... He’”
She was sobbing now, the truth pouring from her like a storm breaking after too many days under pressure.
“I didn’t come here to stir up trouble,” she continued, voice hoarse. “I wanted to be a healer. That’s all I ever wanted. But now... now I can’t pretend. I can’t walk away. Not when I’ve seen what I’ve seen. Not when I know what’s at stake.”
Silence fell around the room, broken by Thalia’s heaving sobs.
Elara stared at her for a long moment. The flickering sconce behind her cast shifting shadows across her ageless face. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft.
“You believe this. All of it.”
“I do.”
“You believe Caelum is trapped in the dream realm. That Lord Vaelith is keeping him there.”
Thalia nodded. Her cheeks were wet, her hands clenched into fists in her lap.
Elara leaned back slowly in her chair. Her expression was unreadable.
“Kek…” Elara muttered.
Thalia’s breath caught. She sat straighter, hope flickering through the fog of her despair.
“You know the name,” she said quickly. “You’ve heard of him—”
“I knowofhim,” Elara said. “A forgotten god. Whispers in ancient lore. Shadows in shadowed corners. It’s an old song from my village, but yes I have heard the name" She stood, walking slowly to the arched window that overlooked the temple gardens.
“When I was a girl,” she murmured, “I heard tales. Stories told only in candlelight, in quiet voices. Of a temple buried by time. Of a god of truth that the gods themself tried to erase.”
She turned to Thalia, her eyes like a swirling violet vortex. “No one speaks of Kek anymore. Not in this temple. Not in any temple.”
Thalia rose to her feet, hope and desperation warring in her chest. “Then youdobelieve me.”
“I believe you believe it,” Elara said. “And that may be enough.”
For a long moment, they simply stood there. One High Priestess. One trembling female.
Elara finally sighed. “Return to your dormitory. I must think on what you’ve said.”
“Will you still send me away?” Thalia asked, voice small.
Elara didn’t answer. She turned back to the window.
“Go.”
Thalia hesitated, her knees weak, her chest aching. She turned, and walked to the door, leaving a trail of unanswered questions in her wake. The corridor felt unusually long as Thalia trudged back to her dormitory, each step weighed down with dread and uncertainty. Her cheeks were still damp from the tears she’d tried to wipe away in vain, and her head pounded from the sheer intensity of everything that had transpired in the high priestess’s office. She barely registered the curious stares and hushed whispers trailing behind her, other acolytes peering from doorways, pausing mid-conversation as she passed. Everyone must have known by now. Between the argument with Vaelith, and now, after disappearing into High Priestess Elara’s office for the better part of an hour, she had become the subject of every hallway murmur and passing glance.
She hesitated outside her door, her hand trembling against the wood. She wasn’t sure if she had the strength to recount it all again. But when she opened it, the sight of Nyla, Cellen, and Marand all rising to their feet with anxious expressions made her legs give out. Nyla rushed forward and caught her before she fell, guiding her to sit at the edge of her bed. Marand knelt beside her while Cellen, hovered just behind them, his arms crossed tight.
“What happened?” Nyla asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from Thalia’s face. “We were waiting. We’ve been so worried.”
Thalia let out a shuddering breath and swallowed back the lump in her throat. “They’re sending me home,” she whispered. “Tomorrow.”
Silence fell like a stone in the room.
“They’re what?” Cellen blinked, all colour draining from his face. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I was,” she said bitterly, voice cracking. “The high priestess said… said that my behaviour is inappropriate. The fight with Vaelith… they saw it all. And she said she can’t tolerate it anymore.”
