Page 145 of Cursed Dreams
Thalia’s world had narrowed to the broken male on the ground and the girl who had just moments ago been laughing over breakfast with them.
A strangled noise tore from Cellen’s throat. Gently, he laid Marand down. His trembling hands slid from hers as he stood, and his face distorted with rage and grief. Rage. Grief. Despair. Raw, explosive magic began to crackle around him, a golden light that lit his skin from within.
“You killed her,” he snarled, eyes locked on Vaelith. “You bastard! You killed her!”
Before anyone could stop him, he launched himself forward with a roar, firing a blast of pure magic.
Vaelith turned, blocking the attack, stumbling slightly beneath the force. His eyes went to Marand’s body, Shock and pain danced across his face.
“I did not do that,” he shouted, hands up, warding off another blast. “You have to believe me—I didn’t kill her!”
Cellen screamed and hurled another surge of power. Vaelith countered it, gritting his teeth.
Nyla was sprinting now, trying to reach Cellen. “Cellen, stop—please! He’ll kill you!”
“She’s dead!” Cellen shouted. “She was—she was—” “SHE WAS MY MATE”
His voice broke, and another surge of violet light slammed into Vaelith’s shield, sending a shockwave of heat and pressure through the courtyard. Dust and loose stones flared into the air.
“Thalia,” Vaelith called, voice ragged. “You know me. You’ve seen me. I didn’t do this. I didn’t—”
Thalia had already stepped forward. Her body burned with grief, with fury. Power gathered in her hands like wildfire, rising from her like a storm. It hurt. It hurt to feel this much.
“You think I’d believe anything you say now?” she spat, voice shaking. “She’s dead, Vaelith!”
She hurled her magic at him; brilliant white light erupted around the full temple. Vaelith threw up a shield, and this time he staggered hard, driven back a step as the light burst across his defences.
“I didn’t kill the girl!” he shouted again, eyes locking with hers. “Thalia, please—”
Another blast shot from her hands, this time with a cry of pure heartbreak behind it. Mate. Marand and Cellen were mates. Her heart broke repeatedly for the loss of her friend and the loss of their love. With each stab of the pain coursing through her she attacked blasting more white-hot burning searing light at Vaelith. She was raw power and fury.
Vaelith’s eyes widened as his knees hit the ground his shield cracking under the force of her continued blasts. She stared into his eyes silver flashing into molten gold and ready to make her final strike and end this once and for all. With a curse, Vaelith pulled his shadows around him and vanished, the space where he had stood crackling with the last of his magic.
Thalia stood shaking with unrestrained power. The silence around her was thick, broken only by the faint crackle of fading magic still pulsing through the air. Her breath came in ragged bursts, her fingers curled at her sides, glowing faintly. She could feel the still ness of the eyes watching her, appraising her, there was a palpable fear in the air.
She looked back at Marand’s body on the stones. Lifeless. Still.
Nyla tentatively stepped forward, her eyes wide with shock.
She watched as one of the priestesses, covered Marand’s body with a pale linen cloth. Numbness setting deep in her limbs. Nothing felt real. Not the heavy smell of smoke, not the taste of ash in Thalia’s mouth. Not the dull, hollow ache in her chest that threatened to crack her in two.
“We will send her home,” one of the elder priestesses murmured gently, breaking the silence. “To Vertrose. We will prepare her body with the honours owed to her and see that she is laid to rest with dignity.”
Thalia couldn’t speak. The words caught in her throat, tangled and bitter. She could only nod.
“You cannot stay here,” the priestess added, firmer this time. “He will return.” “And he may bring others”
Others?
The word rang in her ears like a drum!
“There are more dragons?” the shock in Nyla’s voice echoing her own feelings.
“It would be naive and foolish to assume, that Lor...” she stopped herself, “That Vaelith is the only surviving dragon.” “You must go as soon as you can, I fear another war may be coming now, but without the High Fae, and despite your incredible power “she gave Thalia a pointed look “We will not stand a chance”
Her voice sounded far away. Thalia looked at Cellen, who still knelt beside Marand’s body, unmoving. His shoulders were hunched, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Broken. He looked broken. Nyla didn’t speak; her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if holding herself together.
Thalia nodded to the priestess, “We will leave immediately”
