Page 33 of Cursed Dreams
A Warm tingling spread through her, her chest began to ache, the feeling as if she had been searching for him her whole life.
As if she had always known him.
He smiled.
A simple, devastating smile, and her heart fluttered in response, as though caught in an invisible thread tying her to him.
Just as she tried to take a step closer—
She woke
Chapter 11
The next three months flew by in a whirlwind of study, laughter, and late nights in the library. Thalia had truly begun to feel at home in Vertrose. Her days were structured and demanding, filled with hours of study in fae and human anatomy, potion-making, and the intricacies of healing magic. She had learned to harness her abilities with greater precision, weaving magic into wounds to mend them seamlessly and brewing complex tinctures that could ease pain or purge sickness. In the beginning there had been some curious stares at the pale white glow of her magic, some of her instructors had even commented on the intensity of it, but Thalia had worked hard to prove herself. Though the niggling doubt of her ability and the fear there was something wrong with her lingered. The library had become a second home, where she spent late evenings buried in books, notes sprawled across the wooden tables as she and her friends quizzed one another on healing techniques and magical theory.
Her friendships had flourished. Cellen, had kept their group lively, dragging them into his ridiculous escapades, like the time he convinced them to sneak into the kitchens after hours to steal fresh honey cakes, only to get caught when he knockedover an entire crate of apples resulting in them all having to take on kitchen duties for a week. Nyla had been her steady companion, a mix of warmth and quiet wisdom, always ready to lend an ear or share a knowing smile when Thalia found herself overwhelmed.
Then there was Marand, a human healer-in-training she had met during a late-night study session in the library. She had rich brown curls, kind hazel eyes, and an easy, infectious smile. From the moment they met, Marand had welcomed Thalia into her world, challenging her with questions and theories, making the long hours of study pass quickly with her thoughtful humour and quick wit. She had a sharp mind, a keen instinct for potions, and an unshakable determination that inspired Thalia. Before long, Marand had become an integral part of their little circle, slipping into their conversations as though she had always been there. With them, Thalia had finally found what she had longed for, friendships that felt natural, easy, and real.
Letters from home arrived regularly, mostly from her mother, who seemed eager for Thalia to visit already. She filled her letters with village gossip, who had fallen in love, who had made a fool of themselves at the last festival, which merchant was suspected of watering down his wares. She also provided updates on her father’s latest humorous endeavours, he’d tried to mend the temple's old fence and ended up accidentally locking the priestess inside for half a day, or when he’d attempted to teach a young apprentice how to properly saddle a horse only to be bucked off in front of half the village. Her mother wrote with fond exasperation, painting vivid pictures of home that made Thalia laugh and ache for it all at once.
Her latest letter, however, had made Thalia groan, her mother had mentioned Marcus, saying he still asked about her. Thaliahad rolled her eyes at that, far past any sort of patience for his unwanted attention.
Despite her growing confidence and the joy she found in her studies and friendships, one thing continued to nag at her, the dream. What had once been an occasional oddity had become frequent, occurring several nights a week now. Always, it was the same. The muted forest, the endless running, the urgent need to reach something just beyond her grasp. And then, just before she woke, the male with pale blue eyes.
Every time, she woke with a strange sense of loss and longing, as though something vital had slipped through her fingers. She had no reason to feel this way, he was just a dream, an illusion conjured by an exhausted mind. Her workload was intense, her body constantly teetering on the edge of exhaustion. It was no wonder her subconscious was playing tricks on her. Yet, no matter how often she dismissed it, she could never quite shake the feeling that, whoever he was, she was meant to know him.
The door to her room swung open, and Nyla and Marand swept into the room, both in high spirits, their voices overlapping as they chattered excitedly.
"The entire temple is in a frenzy preparing for the Winter Solstice," Marand was saying, her hazel eyes bright with amusement. "The priestesses are coordinating the ceremonies, and there are enough candles being crafted to light up the entire city."
Nyla laughed, dropping onto Thalia’s bed with a sigh. "You should have seen the dining hall; it’s already being decorated. I overheard some of the older priestesses arguing over whetherthe flower arrangements should be traditional or something ‘more modern.’ It was getting heated."
Thalia grinned, sitting up from where she had been reading. "I swear they put more effort into the festival than actual healing some days."
Marand huffed. "That’s because they do! The Solstice is one of the biggest celebrations of the year. It’s not just about honouring the goddess of love and light; it’s about bringing everyone together. Even the city will be celebrating. Have you seen the street vendors setting up stalls already?"
"Speaking of priestesses," Nyla smirked, "you are going to love this, Thalia."
Before she could ask what Nyla meant, a tall figure in a long hooded robe shuffled into the room. The moment they turned, Thalia caught sight of the familiar mischievous grin beneath the oversized hood.
"Lady Cellen," Thalia said dryly, biting back a laugh.
Cellen lifted his hands in mock elegance, tipping his hood back slightly. "I have come to join my fellow sisters in pious devotion to the temple." He gave an exaggerated curtsy, which only made his ridiculous disguise even funnier.
Marand clutched her stomach, laughing. "You look like an old crone trying to sneak into the novice quarters."
"I beg your pardon, good priestess," Cellen said in a high-pitched, breathy voice. "I am a delicate maiden, new to the sacred arts."
Thalia giggled, shaking her head. "I’m going to tell Miryenne you were in here impersonating one of her initiates."
"She would probably just tell me I lacked grace," Cellen muttered, tossing the hood back and flopping onto Nyla’s bed. "Anyway, I came to remind you all, two more days until we shadow one of the esteemed healers on their hospital rounds."
Marand practically bounced on her feet. "I still can’t believe we finally get to observe real cases! I heard some of the older apprentices whispering about how the hospital is always full of interesting patients."
"I heard that last year, one of the apprentices had to assist in regrowing a human noble’s leg. He passed out before the healer even started," Nyla snorted.
Cellen grinned. "I, for one, am ready for greatness. I shall not faint, nor tremble, nor run screaming from the sight of blood."
