Page 65 of Cursed Dreams
And Eshu had answered.
With that thought clawing at her, she slipped into a seat near the back of the temple, her hands clasping together tightly in her lap.
The priestesses bowed their heads, then as one, their voices joined in a sacred rhythm. It started as a low, breathy hum, barely more than a vibration in the air. A sound that settled deep in her bones, crawling through her like an unseen force. Slowly it grew.
Layer upon layer of haunting voices, wordless yet ancient, weaving into a melody that was at once soothing and unsettling. It wasn’t just sound, it was something that wrapped around the temple, filled the very space between her ribs, pressed against the walls of her mind.
Thalia’s fingers tightened against one another.
It was the same chant she had heard weeks ago, on her journey to Vertrose.
It had felt unsettling then, too.
She tried to shut out the strange pull of it, lowering her head, pressing her thoughts into a prayer.
"Eshu… if you can hear me, if you’re listening… please. Help him."
Aric’s face burned into her mind.
His soft, warm smiles, his gentle patience, the way he always laughed despite his pain.
His wife’s red-rimmed eyes, her quiet but unshakable devotion.
His little daughter, curled up in a chair too big for her, waiting for a father who might not wake up tomorrow.
"Please don’t take him away from them."
Tears stung her eyes, her chest tightening, her ribs pressing in.
"Let his daughter grow up with a loving, caring father like I did."
The ache inside her deepened, twisting in ways she hadn’t expected.
Suddenly, she wasn’t thinking about Aric anymore.
She was thinking of home.
The small stone cottage covered in vines, the smell of her mother’s bread baking, the way her father’s laughter filled every room. The way he would swing her in his arms when she was small, how he would tell her bedtime stories of great fae warriors and gods who walked the earth.
The way her mother fussed over her, how her hands always smelled of earth and lavender, how her voice was always soft and steady, even when the world felt like too much.
She missed them.
She missed them so much it made her physically hurt.
Thalia squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her palms into them, willing herself to focus, to pray harder. The chanting grew louder.
It was all-consuming now, every sound, every breath, every thought swallowed by the rising chorus of voices.
It wasn’t just in her ears anymore, it was in her head, under her skin, inside her very bones.
The flickering candlelight blurred.
The golden and blue reflections on the floor twisted like shifting water.
Her limbs felt heavy, her heart slowing, her thoughts slipping into something dreamlike, hazy, lost.
The weight of the day pressed down on her, exhaustion creeping through her limbs like an unseen tide.
