Page 15 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)
A grand set of marble steps led up to the entrance, so wide that entire groups of acolytes could ascend side by side.
The main building itself was flanked by several sprawling wings, each with its own function.
One in particular drew Thalia’s attention immediately—a hospital wing she assumed, larger than any structure she had seen before save the temple itself.
Its walls were lined with open balconies where robed figures moved with graceful efficiency as they attended to unseen patients.
Banners depicting both Fae and human healing symbols fluttered along its edges, a sign of the unity between both peoples in the pursuit of medicine and magic.
Thalia’s heart pounded wildly in her chest, her skin prickling with the sheer weight of the moment, it was overwhelming, the scale, the grandeur, the sheer weight of history pressing down on her.
This was where the best healers of both realms trained, where the greatest scholars and physicians worked side by side, where magic and science intertwined in the pursuit of saving lives.
A mixture of elation and fear flooded her system.
Was she truly meant to be here? Was she good enough to be here?
She barely registered the reactions of her companions, so consumed by the sight before her. Through her haze of emotion, she caught glimpses of their expressions.
Nyla, usually composed and regal, had a rare look of pure wonder on her face, her dark eyes drinking in every detail.
Roina had stiffened in her saddle, her arms folded as if unwilling to let awe creep into her demeanour, but her keen gaze betrayed her admiration.
Cellen let out a low whistle. “Well. I was expecting something grand, but this… this is on another level.”
Lina’s eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, a silent whisper of reverence escaping her.
And Thalia?
She felt small. Insignificant . But also… alive .
She was still reeling when she felt warmth at her ear, the faintest brush of breath against her skin as Vaelith leaned in, his voice low and certain.
"You are going to do great things."
A wave of emotion surged through her, so sudden and unexpected that it nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. Before she could thank him, he had already swung off his horse and turned to her, offering his hands.
She hesitated only a moment before placing her hands in his, her fingers barely grazing the cool leather of his gloves. With effortless strength, he lifted her down from the saddle, his grip firm but careful, his presence impossibly steady.
She landed lightly on the stone path, her legs tingling from hours of riding, her heart hammering for reasons she couldn’t quiet grasp.
Before she could gather her scattered thoughts, a group of figures in flowing robes emerged from the temple entrance, their presence commanding immediate attention.
Three women, each exuding an air of wisdom and quiet authority, descended the grand steps to greet them.
The first was a priestess with dark red hair, braided with small pearls that gleamed like captured moonlight.
Her robes were layered in delicate shades of blue and white, embroidered with celestial symbols that shimmered faintly as she moved.
Though her face bore the ageless beauty of the Fae, her deep-set, intelligent eyes spoke of centuries of knowledge.
Beside her stood a human scholar she assumed, an older woman with dark skin, piercing amber eyes, her grey-streaked curls wrapped in a headscarf of deep emerald.
Her robes were simpler, yet no less dignified, her belt adorned with vials of ink and rolled parchments.
A woman of learning, of discipline, of precision.
The final figure was another Fae, but unlike the first, she was younger, perhaps ages with Thalia.
Her golden hair was wrapped in intricate braids, her violet eyes sharp with quiet curiosity.
Unlike the formal attire of the others, she wore more practical robes, designed for movement rather than ceremony.
All three studied the newcomers with measured interest.
“Welcome,” the red haired priestess spoke first, her voice rich with warmth yet laced with undeniable authority. “You have travelled far, and now, your true learning journey begins.
The Priestess regarded them all with a benevolent smile, though there was no mistaking the keen intelligence in her ageless eyes. She clasped her hands together, the soft jingling of delicate silver chains around her wrists the only sound for a moment before she spoke.
“You have travelled far,” she said, her voice carrying across the courtyard with an effortless grace.
“And I do not doubt you are weary from your journey. It is no small thing to leave behind the lives you have known to walk this path. But you are here now, and this temple, this city, will be your home in the years to come.”
Thalia felt the weight of those words settle in her chest. Years to come. This wasn’t some brief adventure or momentary departure. She was here to stay, to train, to dedicate herself to her craft.
The Priestess nodded to the younger Fae at her side, the one with golden braids and sharp violet eyes. “Miryenne will show you to your dormitories, where you may freshen up and rest. You will have time to gather yourselves before your formal induction in the Hall.”
Miryenne stepped forward with a polite but reserved expression, gesturing for them to follow her.
The Priestess turned slightly, her gaze settling on Vaelith.
Her expression shifted ever so slightly—surprise, certainly, but not the kind tinged with suspicion or uncertainty.
No, her look was one of familiarity, even fondness.
“Lord Vaelith,” she said, inclining her head ever so slightly in respect. “We were not expecting you for some weeks, but we are honoured by your presence, as always.”
Lord Vaelith?
Thalia’s breath caught in her throat.
The title was not one thrown around lightly. She had known he was of some importance, but a Lord. Nobility was rare among the fae especially with the High fae gone and the way the Priestess addressed him, with such deference, suggested he was more than just an ability assessor.
Her heart drummed in her ears as she watched him, she had made a fool of herself several times in front of this male. Evidence of her embarrassment began to creep up her cheeks.
Vaelith, ever composed, offered a slight nod, the picture of effortless grace. “The honour is mine, Priestess,” he said smoothly.
“Shall we have your usual rooms prepared?” she inquired.
Thalia cringed inwardly, of course he was staying here, what else had she expected?
This changes nothing!
She had a plan, avoid Vaelith and in doing so any rumours arising from the journey would surely fade away. Study hard, perfect her craft, make friends, have a life. Simple.
The sound of Vaelith’s long exhale roused her from her thoughts “That won’t be necessary. I won’t remain long.”
The priestess regarded him for a lingering moment, her lips curving ever so slightly, as if she had expected that answer. “As you wish,” she said simply before gesturing to Miryenne, who was suddenly looking rather disappointed, to carry on.
Vaelith’s gaze landed on Thalia once more, he gave a small bow of his head before turning around and leaving.
She felt a strange, restless unease coil in her stomach
She didn’t know why his departure suddenly unsettled her. She barely knew him. He had been a constant presence on this journey, yes, but that was all he was supposed to be. A presence. A traveling companion, assigned to escort them, nothing more.
Yet, the thought of him leaving felt… wrong.
It was a ridiculous notion.
She had spent the last day trying to avoid him, for the sake of her own sanity. She should be relieved, glad, even, that soon, she wouldn’t have to endure the sharp glances, the knowing smirks, or the too, close moments on horseback that made her question herself in ways she didn’t like.
She was not disappointed. Of course she wasn’t.
She swallowed, forcing herself to push away the feeling. He was never staying. He had his own place in the world—one she didn’t understand but suspected was much greater than she had first assumed.
Still, when she finally dragged her eyes away from his retreating figure and turned to follow Miryenne, a small part of her hesitated.