Page 144 of Cursed Dreams
But the priestesses wouldn’t listen.
Merryweather raised both hands, her face twisted with rage. The ground trembled. More vines erupted, sharper, faster. One caught Vaelith’s shoulder, tearing through his cloak and drawing blood. He didn’t flinch. His shadows surged outward in a pulse, throwing the magic back in a wave that swept the courtyard, sending several priestesses tumbling.
The air cracked with energy. Dust rose. Light pulsed. The ground shook with every strike.
Through it all, Vaelith moved like a storm contained. Powerful, deliberate. Holding back when he didn’t have to. Fighting with fury but without cruelty.
His eyes met Thalia’s across the chaos, molten, desperate. And in them, she saw not power, but restraint. Not rage but resolve.
He wasn’t trying to win.
He was trying not to destroy them all.
Thalia watched as Marand, slowly, regained consciousness. Relief crashing through her.
Marand looked around dazed at the sight before her. She got herself up on to her feet and ran for Thalia, she opened her mouth and screamed “Thalia, please you need to stop this!” “Please, Vaelith is ...”
Something dark cut through the air. a sliver of blackness, fast as a blink.
It pierced her chest.
Her body jerked mid-step, the breath stolen from her lips. For a heartbeat, she stood there, as if stunned by the sudden silence, then crumpled
“No—NO!” Thalia’s knees hit the earth hard as she dropped to her side.
“MARAND!” Cellen’s roar tore through the temple grounds like an animal breaking loose. He was already running for her, falling to his knees, pulling her into his arms. “No. Please. Please, no—!”
Thalia rushed to them, hands glowing with shaky light. “Hold on, Marand, hold on, I’ve got you, just hold on—” her voice broke on every word, tears blurring her vision.
Blood. Too much blood.
“Stay with me,” Cellen sobbed, cradling her body against his chest, his fingers shaking as he pressed them to the wound his own light flaring beneath them, desperate to keep her here. “You’re gonna be fine, okay? You’re, it’s just a scratch—”
“THALIA HELP ME FIX IT" his guttural roar had her shaking “Please, you have to fix it!” he pleaded quieter this time.
“I’m trying!” Thalia sobbed, her magic slipping, pulsing, wild with no control.
Nyla dropped down beside them, hands pressed to Marand’s side, tears streaming down her face. “She’s not responding, gods, she’s not breathing—”
“She’s gone” the words were faint.
“NO!” Cellen rocked her gently, over and over, as if the movement might bring her back. “You promised me a dance, remember? You promised me a life, please. Don’t leave me”
Thalia stared at the deep crimson spreading across Marand’s chest where she had been struck. Her stomach twisted, heatrising in her throat. Her heart dropped like a stone into an endless pit.
“Vaelith,” she whispered
Cellen’s head snapped up, eyes rimmed with red, face twisted in grief. “He killed her,” he shrieked. “He killed her.”
Thalia shook her head, even as guilt and terror swirled inside her. “I don’t know, Cellen, I—”
“She was trying to tell you," He whispered, voice broken. “Trying to warn you.”
Marand’s body lay limp in his arms, her head nestled into the curve of his shoulder, as if she were sleeping. But her chest didn’t rise. Her lips didn’t move.
Cellen’s scream was feral. Her heart shattered.
The sounds of battle faded into a dull, distant roar.
