Page 11 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)

Thalia hesitated, suddenly feeling silly.

She wasn't about to tell him she’d woken up feeling empty because of a dream.

That she was standing here questioning reality itself just because she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

That the stress of the last few weeks was clearly catching up on her, she refused to show him anymore weakness.

Instead, she cleared her throat. “I couldn’t sleep. Bad dreams.”

Something in his expression shifted. The indifference in his eyes softened, just slightly, but enough for her to notice.

“I understand,” he said quietly.

Thalia blinked. Of all the responses she expected, understanding was not one of them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The night stretched around them, the temple’s warm sconces flickering in the distance, the sky above vast and endless.

Vaelith’s gaze flickered upward. “Have you ever left your village before?”

She shook her head. “Never. This is the farthest I’ve ever been from home.”

He hummed as if that didn’t surprise him. “Are you missing your family?”

She hesitated again, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He was being... kind. Not that he was ever outright cruel, but he had always seemed so detached, like he was only half-listening to conversations, too far removed to genuinely care.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I am.”

Vaelith nodded once, as if he understood exactly what she meant. “I miss mine too.”

The quiet way he said it, the subdued sadness in his voice, made something in Thalia’s chest pang. She had never really considered the fact that someone like him, so confident, so sure of himself, could feel loneliness too.

“I suppose that never gets easier,” she murmured.

“No,” he agreed. “But it helps to look at the stars.”

Thalia furrowed her brows. “The stars?”

Vaelith lifted a hand, pointing toward the sky. “My father taught me to read them. That way, no matter how far I went, I’d always know the way home.”

Thalia glanced at him, then back at the sky.

His father.

That meant he hadn’t always been alone. For some reason, she had assumed that he simply was, that he had always existed in that state of aloof distance. But no. He had people he cared about, of course he did.

She found herself smiling slightly. “Was he a hunter, then?”

Vaelith glanced at her, amusement flickering behind his eyes. “Something like that.”

Not exactly an answer, her thoughts wandered, and she wondered what affiliation Vaelith had, had she even seen his magic?

She huffed. “You’re infuriatingly vague.”

“And you’re painfully easy to read.”

She scowled. “I am not.”

Vaelith smirked. “You are. Just now, you were wondering what kind of magic I have.”

Thalia stiffened. “How did you—” She groaned, rubbing her temple. “I hate that you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Read my mind.”

“I don’t read minds.”

“You absolutely read minds.”

Vaelith looked far too pleased with himself, and Thalia rolled her eyes. But despite her irritation, she was still curious.

She knew nothing about his magic. Did he have a water affiliation, like Marcus’? Or earth like her parents? He seemed like someone who could wield something steady, solid, immovable.

She thought of her father’s stories. The ancient legends of the High Fae, the ones who wielded celestial magic, bending light and shadow to their will.

They had been wiped out long ago, their magic fading into myth.

As ridiculous as it was, she could see Vaelith wielding something like that.

The thought sobered her. Her mother was right she needed to let go of her books and live in the real world.

Vaelith’s voice pulled her from her thoughts again. “If you ever feel homesick, you’re welcome to seek me out.”

Thalia blinked at him, surprised once more by the unexpected kindness beneath his usual dry tone.

He pointed to a constellation in the sky, “That constellation there is Reticulum”

Thalia followed his gaze,

“Long ago, when the stars were still being named and the gods still whispered in mortal ears, there lived a Fae goddess known only as Nalyra, the Weaver of Truths. Nalyra did not fight wars or command storms. Her power lay in the quiet. With silver-threaded fingers, she spun the Celestial Net, a lattice of light stretched across the heavens, meant to catch the fragments of fate that slipped through even Esku’s careful hands.

Some say her net was what held the stars in place; others whisper it was made to trap lies, drifting loose from the world below. ”

Thalia listened intently, he continued,

“The constellation Reticulum, to the untrained eye, is faint, just a scattering of delicate stars. But to the Fae, it is sacred. They say it is the last remnant of Nalyra’s woven net, the place where truths too dangerous to speak aloud are hidden.

It glows faintly because it is still catching things, forgotten names, half spoken prophecies, and souls that slipped too early from the mortal coil. ”

Thalia turned to look at Vealith then, he looked younger, wistful it was the most emotion she had seen him show.

“Priestesses of Esku often offer a single golden thread beneath Reticulum during stargazing festivals, hoping the Weaver will mend what fate has frayed. And some Fae believe that if you dream beneath the Net on a moonless night, you may awaken knowing something you were never meant to.”

She stared at the constellation, she had never heard this story before.

“That is where your village lies” “That is your home”

Thalia once again turned to stare at him, she opened her mouth to ask him more but to

her absolute bewilderment, he bowed.

A full, formal bow, like he was a travelling bard. She smiled

“That was... dramatic.”

Vaelith straightened, a single white brow arching. “Was it?”

She smirked. “A little.”

He only gave the smallest shrug before turning and walking away, his long coat billowing slightly behind him.

She called out “Thank you” but if he heard her, he showed no indication.

Instead, she tilted her head back once more, staring up at the constellation he had pointed out.

For the first time since waking, the unease in her chest settled, just a little.

A wry thought crossed her mind; Why does he always seem to be there when I need him?

Finally, she turned and made her way back to bed.