Page 96 of Cursed Dreams
“But he was a thing,” Nyla said, her voice more gentle than sharp. “And we can see how much it affected you.”
Thalia let the silence stretch, heat creeping along her throat.
She shouldn’t care. She knew that. She had Caelum, his voice, his presence, his name etched into the inside of her chest like a second heartbeat. She was soul bonded to him. A once-in-a-lifetime, eternity-defining magic. There was no room for jealousy, no right to feel anything toward Vaelith.
And yet… the thought of him in a quiet tavern, leaning in close to a beautiful woman, laughing with her the way he sometimes used to smile at her—
Her heart ached.
Foolish. Stop it.
She shook her head quickly and stood, brushing down her robes. “I’m fine. Really. Only tired. I’ll head to the temple and clear my head.”
“Want company?” Marand asked.
Thalia offered a small, grateful smile. “Not tonight.”
Cellen gave her a mock salute from the grass. “If you start levitating from divine inspiration, please send word.”
Nyla glared at him. “Cellen.”
“What? I’m being supportive!”
Marand chuckled and waved her off. “We’ll be here when you want to talk. No pressure.”
Thalia gave them all one last look, heartwarming at their protectiveness, even if they didn’t understand what was really going on and turned away down the gravel path toward the front gates.
Chapter 22
The Temple of Amara stood quiet beneath the violet sky, its spires gilded by the last kiss of sunlight. The heavy wooden doors groaned softly as Thalia pushed them open, slipping into the sanctuary where the world seemed to pause between heartbeats. The scent of lavender and smouldering resin curled in the air, thick and cloying. Candles flickered along the walls in soft golden halos. Shadows danced across the carved faces of the gods etched into every pillar. Amara, eyes downcast in compassion, hands outstretched as if ready to receive the broken, and broken was exactly how Thalia felt. She bowed her head in respect as she moved quietly through the temple, her soft boots whispering across ancient stone. The hush within pressed at her ears. Every sound was muffled, like the world had wrapped itself in velvet. The priestesses stood in perfect formation near the altar, hooded and still, their voices rising in low, rhythmic chant. The song was ancient, one she couldn’t understand, but somehow still felt in her chest. Like a heartbeat beneath the surface of her skin. As she stepped into the back row of benches and slid silently into a seat, the sense of being watched prickled at her neck again.
It wasn’t like before, not just the vague unease or the feeling of something just beyond her sight. This time it felt deliberate. Focused. Like a gaze she couldn’t meet pressing into her from somewhere unseen.
She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. The chanting continued, pulsing around her like waves on a shore. Her breathing slowed. Her muscles relaxed.
Caelum, she thought, the name like a tether, a plea.
The edges of her mind blurred, gradually the noise of the temple faded. The stone beneath her became moss. The candlelight turned to moonlight. And the sound of chanting was replaced by wind through trees.
She was no longer in the Temple of Amara. She was standing once more in the forest from her dreams. The ground was damp beneath Thalia’s feet as she sprinted through the forest, her heart hammering like a war drum. The trees rose around her like silent sentinels, their trunks ghostly pale in the silvery light. Fog clung low along the moss-covered ground, coiling around her ankles, tugging at her like fingers.
“Caelum!” she called, voice sharp with panic.
Only her echo answered.
Branches whipped at her arms. Leaves tangled in her hair. The muted colours of this dreamscape soft greens, cold silvers, and washed-out golds seemed to blur around her as she ran.
Where was he?
She never had to look for him before. He was always there, waiting in the clearing, just beyond the trees.
“Caelum!” Her voice cracked with desperation.
Her chest ached, her breath coming in sharp gasps. Fear, irrational panic, curled tight in her stomach.
Had something happened? Had she lost the thread between them?
“Thalia.”
