Page 16 of Cursed Dreams
Nyla spoke of vast golden fields stretching for miles, her home a town nestled on the border between fae and the dead lands, where magic thrived.
Riona described a chilly northern village where the winters were long, and the people even tougher. “But,” she added with a smirk, “our markets sell the finest wool cloaks. You won’t find better anywhere else.”
Callan, unsurprisingly, spun tales of his seaside home, of the rolling waves, endless salty breeze, and the early mornings spent pulling in the catch of the day. “You’d think I’d hate fish by now,” he joked, “but honestly? Still love it.”
As the carriage trundled along, Thalia relaxed more, listening intently, occasionally adding in a detail of her own life. It wasn’t as awkward as she had feared.
The scenery shifted as they travelled. The well worn dirt road wound through endless meadows of swaying wildflowers, their colours vibrant under the sun. Birds flitted overhead, their songs weaving into the steady rhythm of the carriage wheels against the path. Occasionally, they passed clusters of trees, their emerald leaves casting dappled shadows over the road. In the distance, rolling hills with a light dusting of early snow.
The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting the sky in hues of soft pink and amber, the carriage finally slowed near the outskirts of a quiet village. A small temple stood in the distance, its pale stone bathed in the fading light, surrounded by a grove of tall, evergreen trees. The air smelled of earth, incense, and distant woodsmoke from the village beyond.
The journey had been long but pleasant, filled with shared stories of their hometowns, families, and the years of rigorous study that had led them to this moment. Thalia had particularly enjoyed swapping book recommendations with Nyla, who shared her love for history and old tales. It was a strange but comforting thing, realizing she was among like minded people, perhaps, for the first time. They had discussed their exam, what methods they had used to cleanse the water, how they had treated the patient. Noone spoke of their magic assessment and Thalia hadn’t dared ask, though the thought burned in her mind ;
Had they all experienced the same strange, uncomfortable pulling sensation when Vaelith assessed their magic? Or was it just her ?
Several times throughout the journey, she had nearly worked up the courage to ask, but the words never made it past her lips.What if they had experienced nothing strange at all? What if they just thought she was odd, weak? No, it was best to keep it to herself.
Instead, she focused on their conversations, allowing herself to be distracted by the camaraderie forming between them.
“I swear, my mother was convinced I was going to set the house on fire when I first started practicing magic,” Callen said with an easy laugh. “She still flinches anytime I pick up a candle.”
Lina smirked. “She has a point. Didn’t you say you managed to explode an entire cauldron of healing salve?”
Callen pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “That was one time, and in my defence, I thought adding more willow bark would speed up the process.”
Nyla chuckled. “Let me guess, it did the opposite?”
“It did something,” he admitted, shaking his head. “The salve turned into some kind of rock hard paste that had to be chiselled off the floor. My instructor wasn’t pleased.”
Thalia couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well, at least you never knocked yourself unconscious in class.”
Callen arched a brow, his copper eyes gleaming with interest. “Oh, now you have to tell that story.”
Thalia groaned. “It wasn’t even that dramatic. I was just—” she hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious, before sighing. “I was practicing a focus technique that involved deep meditation. I got a little too into it and somehow lost my balance. Ended up smacking my head on the side of a wooden bench. I woke up with an awful headache and my instructor standing over me, looking very unimpressed.”
Callen snorted. “So what you’re saying is, if all else fails, you can take yourself out before an opponent even gets the chance?”
“Exactly,” Thalia deadpanned, making the others laugh.
They continued sharing stories, some humorous, some sentimental, It felt good to talk. To bond. It made the idea of leaving home a little less daunting.
Chapter 8
By the time the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, they arrived at the temple. The structure was beautiful, made of white stone with intricate carvings of vines and celestial symbols that seemed to glow in the twilight. Statues of Amara, Esku the god of fate and luck and Iku the god of death lined the outer courtyard, their expressions serene. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the details so fine that even the folds of the goddess’s robes seemed to ripple in an invisible breeze, Esku’s statue stood tall and confident, draped in layered robes adorned with engraved runes and tiny etched stars. His eyes, though stone, seemed lively and amused, as if he knew every outcome before it ever played out. Iku’s statue was the most solemn of the three, carved from a darker stone veined with silver. Cloaked in a sweeping mantle, his features were noble but shadowed beneath a hood. Despite his role, there was no menace in his expression, only calm inevitability, and a quiet sort of mercy.
A group of priestesses awaited them at the entrance, their long robes flowing like water as they moved. The head priestess stepped forward, an older woman with gentle eyes and silver-threaded hair.
“Welcome, travellers,” she greeted warmly. “Our temple offers you shelter for the night. Please, come inside.”
They followed her through the grand entryway, where the scent of incense wrapped around them like a comforting embrace. The walls were adorned with murals depicting old stories, scenes of Amara’s kindness, of blessings given to mortals, of protection and light overcoming darkness. Thalia found herself momentarily entranced, fingertips itching to trace the ancient artistry.
The priestesses led them to the dining hall, where bowls of steaming stew awaited them on a long wooden table. The rich aroma of spices and herbs filled the air, and without hesitation, Thalia dug in. The flavours were warm, earthy, and new to her, but she severed every bite.
As she ate, her gaze flickered around the hall—searching before she caught herself.
What am I doing?
Annoyed, she forced herself to focus on her meal.
