Page 47 of Cursed Dreams
Why did she keep having these dreams?
They had started months ago, vague and fleeting at first, only the sensation of running through the trees, the cool air biting her skin, the overwhelming need to reach something just out of sight. But lately, the dreams had sharpened, the man in them growing clearer, more defined. She could see his face now. Feel his touch.
It was familiar. Like she knew it, had felt it before?
The thought sent a shiver down her spine. If she thought about it, truly thought about it, those blue eyes, that confident smirk… they were not unlike Vaelith’s. But that was impossible. Vaelith had silver eyes, his hair wasn’t black, it was that shimmering, silver-white that caught the light like spun starlight.
So why was she thinking of him? Why did he always plague her thoughts.
She exhaled sharply, shaking the thoughts away as the library’s arched doors came into view. That wasn’t why she was here, she needed to focus on something, to distract herself.
The library was one of the oldest parts of the temple, a sprawling masterpiece of polished stone and towering shelves that stretched endlessly into the domed ceiling. Massive chandeliers hung above, their enchanted candles casting a soft golden glow, illuminating the intricate carvings that decorated the walls. A soft hush hung in the air, the kind of silence woven from centuries of knowledge and whispered conversations between scholars and healers.
Thalia stepped inside, inhaling the scent of parchment and ink, of worn leather and dust.
The towering shelves were lined with books bound in deep blues and greens, their gold-lettered spines gleaming faintly in the candlelight. Wooden ladders rested against the farthest shelves, reaching toward the highest tomes, their rungs polished smooth from years of use.
A few scattered desks and tables sat beneath the high-arched windows, the deep night sky visible through the glass. Beyond them, plush chairs were arranged in cozy corners, perfect for losing oneself in endless pages of knowledge.
She gravitated toward one now, settling into its warmth with a thick tome on rare ailments.
She had come here to seek comfort in the only way she knew how, research. This was where she felt closest to home. Her new patient Aric was providing her with the perfect excuse.
Something was wrong with him, something that neither human nor fae healers had been able to decipher. But that didn’t mean the answer wasn’t out there. She just had to find it.
With renewed determination, Thalia flipped open the book, her fingers tracing the delicate script as she began to read.
“Can’t sleep, little healer?”
The voice caught her off guard. Thalia looked up, heart skipping, only to find Vaelith leaning casually against the doorway, half in shadow. His tone was easy, almost amused.
“No,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Too many thoughts. Not enough answers.”
He stepped closer, his presence quiet but somehow filling the space. Then, without asking, he pulled out the chair beside her and sat.
“Should I be worried?” he asked lightly, resting his elbow on the table. “Or flattered you didn’t dream of me tonight?”
She snorted. “You think highly of yourself.”
“Only because I’ve earned it.” He offered her a small, teasing smile. “But really, what’s keeping you up?”
Thalia hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him, it was that the moment felt too still, too close.
“It’s nothing important,” she murmured, eyes dropping to the half-filled page of notes in front of her. “Just... everything.”
He studied her for a beat, then leaned back slightly, folding his arms. “You don’t have to talk. I can just sit here and be annoyingly good company.”
She laughed under her breath. “You? Quiet? That’ll be a change.” she bit out sarcastically
“I didn’t say quiet. I said good company.”
She shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here you are. Not kicking me out.” his eyes danced with amusement.
Thalia rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. The quiet between them settled again, not heavy, just companionable. She tried to refocus on writing her notes, but his presence, warm, steady, entirely too close, kept tugging at the edge of her attention.
“Tell me something,” he said after a while, voice softer now. “Something I don’t know about you.”
