Page 109 of Cursed Dreams
“You don’t know what he’s doing to you.”
“Then tell me!” she cried, wrenching free. “Tell me what he is, what you are, why you hate him so much, why you’re—”
The door burst open behind her.
Nyla stood in the entryway, hair mussed, a frown creasing her brow.
“Thalia?” Her gaze darted to Vaelith. “What’s going on?”
In an instant, he was gone, like a shadow curling back into the cracks between the stones.
Thalia stared at the empty hallway, chest rising and falling too fast.
“Thalia,” Nyla said again, voice softer. “Are you alright?”
Thalia nodded.
She wasn’t.
Chapter 25
The morning sun streamed into the dining hall, gilding the long wooden tables with golden light. It was still early enough that most of the other apprentices hadn’t arrived yet. The smell of fresh bread and warm honey lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of herbs drifting in from the hospital wing. Thalia sat hunched over a bowl of oatmeal, prodding it absently with her spoon. Her thoughts were tangled and frayed, still caught in the whirlwind of the night before. She hadn’t expected to find Vaelith waiting for her at the temple. Guarding it like some overly possessive sentinel. Frustration coursed through her, with him there she had no way to see Caelum. The familiar burning in her chest flared at the thought. How dare he try to stop her, the memory of their argument in the corridor only fuelled her anger. Despite her gratitude to Nyla for coming to her rescue, it had taken some time to reassure her friend that she was okay. After attempting to explain what had happened she had collapsed on her bed desperate to sleep. Yet sleep hadn’t come, she had tossed and turned for hours watching the sky outside her window slowly brighten with each hour. Finally when she saw the dawn slowly spread across the sky she hadclosed her eyes, but her dreams had remained silent and empty, and when she woke the emptiness has only worsened.
Across from her, Cellen stirred his tea the sound of him repeatedly clanging the spoon off the edge of his cup reverberated through her entire body.
“Do you have to do that ?!” she snapped at him.
Narrowing his eyes, he gently placed the spoon on the table “Your brooding again.” was his only reply.
“I’m not brooding.” she snapped defensively.
“You are brooding,” Nyla said, sliding onto the bench beside Thalia. “But it’s okay, we understand your frustrations, Don’t we Cellen” she eyed him with a scolding look.
“Yes, we do, mostly”
Thalia sighed, she didn't mean to take her foul mood out on her friends, the lack of progress, Vaelith and her inability to see Caelum was manifesting itself in all the wrong ways. Rather than being grateful to her friends who were clearly as frustrated as she was with not finding references to the temple, despite hours and weeks of research, she was snapping at them. This wasn’t her, she made a mental note to be more grateful and less whatever this was towards them going forward.
She looked up at Cellen ready to apologise when she spotted Marand strolling for their table, hair in a loose braid over one shoulder, dark circles under her eyes.
“You look like you haven’t slept,” Cellen said, scooting over to make room.
“I didn’t,” she replied, breathless and bright-eyed in a way that contradicted her appearance. She clutched a worn book in both hands a small, cloth-bound book, that was clearly old.
“I was in bed,” she said, settling down beside them, gratefully taking the cup Cellen now offered her “ I kept thinking about that line from the text Thalia found. The one about the shadows remembering what the world forgets?”
Thalia nodded slowly, afraid to get her hopes up.
“Well, it reminded me of something my mother used to sing to me. A nursery rhyme. One of those old, strange songs people forget. I couldn’t shake it. So, I got up and went through my old books I brought from home and,” She flipped open the book and turned it to a marked page. “Here. Listen.”
She cleared her throat, and in a quiet, steady yet lilting voice, began to sing:
“In the north where moonlight weeps,
A forest waits in shadowed sleep.
Where silence sings and rivers run,
Beneath the breath of dying sun.
