Page 22 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)

T halia groaned, pressing a pillow over her face to block out the offending daylight streaming into the room. Her head throbbed like a war drum, her mouth was unbearably dry, and her stomach twisted with nausea.

Bits and pieces of last night flickered through her mind, laughter, dancing, the rich, sweet taste of mead, … Vaelith.

Her breath caught.

Goddess above.

Memories crashed over her in a disjointed mess, his hard body pinning her to the alley wall, his mouth demanding against hers, the feel of him pressed between her legs, of his hands gripping her with an unrelenting need. Heat shot through her, mortification following right on its heels.

She had let him do that.

No, worse, she had wanted it. Encouraged it.

Thalia groaned again, rolling onto her side, willing the ground to swallow her whole.

Mixed in with the memories of Vaelith was the dream, one that had plagued her for months.

It had started the same. The forest, the endless running, the sense of searching .

But this time, she had seen him. A male with piercing blue eyes, framed by dark, night-coloured hair.

Except… as she reached for him, his features changed.

The deep blue of his eyes melted into a molten gold, his dark hair fading, turning the same shade as snow. Just like Vaelith’s had.

Thalia sat bolt upright, immediately regretting it as pain speared through her skull.

Before she could attempt to make sense of her chaotic thoughts, the door swung open, and Nyla waltzed in, looking infuriatingly fresh.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Thalia made a strangled noise and collapsed back onto the mattress.

Nyla snorted, crossing the room and setting a tray down on the bedside table. “That bad, huh?”

“I think I’m dying,” Thalia rasped.

“You’re just hungover,” Nyla said, far too amused. “Drink some sweet tea and eat something. You’ll feel better.”

Thalia cracked one eye open, squinting at the tray, but the mere sight of food sent another wave of nausea rolling through her.

Nyla perched on the bed, grinning. “So… last night.”

Thalia groaned. “Please don’t remind me.”

“Oh, I absolutely will.” Nyla nudged her shoulder. “What happened with you and Vaelith?”

Thalia stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Nyla said, “one minute you were drinking with us, and the next, poof, you were gone. We didn’t see you leave.”

Thalia’s heart pounded as flashes of last night assaulted her once more. Vaelith’s shadows, the way he had pulled her into the darkness—

She swallowed hard, forcing nonchalance. “We just ended up outside. Fresh air.”

Nyla frowned. “You ended up outside?”

“It’s a little hazy,” Thalia muttered, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

Nyla studied her for a moment before sighing. “It was probably Cellen’s fault.”

Thalia frowned. “What?”

“The purple drink,” Nyla said. “That was faerie wine. ”

Thalia bolted upright again, head spinning. “ What?! ”

“You didn’t know? ” Nyla gaped.

“No, I didn’t know!” Thalia groaned, pressing her face into her hands. “My parents never allowed it in the village. They said it only led to trouble.”

Nyla smirked. “Well, they weren’t wrong.”

Thalia let out a pained sound. Agreed.

Nyla chuckled but let the subject drop. Instead, she reached for the tea and handed it over. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Thalia took a cautious sip, sighing at the warmth.

“Well, at least we don’t have any classes today,” Nyla said. “I was thinking we could head to the library. I want to do some extra studying before we start our hospital shadowing tomorrow.”

Thalia hesitated, then nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

Because if Vaelith had truly wielded shadows last night, true celestial magic, then something was very, very wrong.

Only the High Fae had ever possessed such a gift.

And they were gone . Wiped from existence centuries ago.

Yet she had seen it. Felt it. Those dark tendrils wrapping around her, pulling her into nothingness.

And then there were his eyes, molten gold, burning like fire instead of their usual silver.

Her stomach twisted.

She didn’t know what was happening, but she would find out.

Even if it meant digging through every book in the temple library, she would figure out what was really going on with Vaelith.

The next day, Thalia felt the exhaustion weighing on her after spending hours in the temple’s vast library the night before, scouring ancient texts for any mention of the High Fae or celestial magic.

She had found nothing, no explanations, no leads, nothing to help her understand how Vaelith could wield the powers that were said to have died out long ago.

It left her frustrated, but she wasn’t ready to give up.

She would find the truth one way or another.

Thalia walked alongside Nyla, Cellen, and Marand through the hospital wing, shadowing one of the temple’s most esteemed healers, Master Elric.

A tall, wiry human man with silver-streaked hair and a sharp gaze, Master Elric wasted no time in guiding them through patient evaluations.

His tone was clipped and efficient, though not unkind, as he stopped before a young fae woman lying pale and feverish in her bed.

“This patient,” he announced, turning to the group, “was brought in two days ago after collapsing in the marketplace. She has a persistent fever, body aches, and faint bluish discoloration around her fingertips. Tell me, apprentices, what do you suspect?”

Thalia’s mind raced, flipping through her studies. Fever, muscle aches, discoloration… She knew she had read something about this before.

“A rare blood infection?” Nyla suggested hesitantly.

“Not quite,” Master Elric replied. “Thalia?”

Thalia bit her lip, thinking. “Could it be dusk root poisoning?” she asked, glancing at the patient’s fingertips again. “The bluish hue, combined with the fever and aches, fits with dusk root exposure.”

Master Elric’s lips twitched upward. “Good. Very good. Dusk root is used medicinally in small doses but can be toxic if prepared incorrectly. Her family said she had been taking an herbal tonic for exhaustion, one that, unfortunately, contained too much dusk root. Treatment?”

Thalia jotted furious notes as Marand spoke up. “A purging tincture, followed by plenty of water and fever-reducing herbs?”

“Correct.”

They moved on to the next case, a young boy with deep, hacking coughs. Master Elric motioned to Cellen, who had been unusually quiet, likely suppressing the urge to turn their rounds into an inappropriate comedy act. “You, boy, what do you think?”

Cellen frowned. “It could be plain lung fever, but…” He hesitated, then sniffed. “There’s a distinct scent of honey on his breath.”

Thalia’s eyes widened. “Sweet breath… could it be the early stages of lung rot?”

Master Elric nodded. “And if left untreated?”

“He’ll begin coughing up blood,” Marand answered grimly.

“Exactly. His parents thought it was a common fever and treated him with honeyed tea, which worsened the condition. What’s the proper course of action?”

“Strong infusions of white willow bark and magic infused feverfew to lower his temperature, and he must inhale steamed silverleaf to help clear his lungs,” Nyla said.

Master Elric gave an approving nod. “Well done.”

As they continued through the hospital wing, Thalia felt a thrill of excitement.

This was what she had longed for, real patients, real cases.

The thrill of diagnosing, of understanding how to heal.

She had been dreaming of this since she first stepped foot in the temple, and now she was finally on the path to becoming a true healer.

She cast a glance at her friends, Nyla, serious but determined; Marand, ever meticulous and focused; and Cellen, who was now miming exaggerated swooning as they passed a particularly attractive healer. Thalia suppressed a laugh.

Master Elric came to a stop before a closed door at the far end of the hospital wing, his expression unreadable. Thalia, Nyla, Cellen, and Marand exchanged glances, sensing the shift in atmosphere.

“For our final patient of the day,” Elric began, folding his arms, “I present to you an exceptionally rare case. One that has puzzled both human and fae healers alike.” His sharp gaze swept over them.

“Every method we have tried has failed. Every remedy, every magic infusion, every attempt at cleansing his system. We do not know what is wrong with him.”

A twinge of excitement and curiosity flared in Thalia’s chest. A true mystery. She tightened her grip on her notebook, ready to absorb every detail.

Elric continued, “His symptoms include persistent fatigue, episodes of dizziness, a slow but noticeable deterioration of strength, and, perhaps the most alarming, a faint green glow appearing on his skin during these episodes, that vanishes as quickly as it comes.”

Thalia’s quill paused midair. A green glow? That was not normal. She had never read about such a thing in any medical text.

“Bloodletting?” Marand guessed.

“Twice,” Elric confirmed. “No change.”

“Cleansing tonics?” Nyla asked.

“He reacts violently to them, fevers, vomiting.”

“Magic-infused salves?”

“Temporary relief, but his condition always worsens again.”

Thalia furrowed her brows. “Has anyone considered it might not be an illness at all?” she mused aloud.

“Explain “

“I read once about a case where the patient suffered fevers and convulsions, no remedies were proficient, it later transpired that the patient was suffering from suppressed magic, his mother unknown to him had been half lesser fae and while magic hadn't manifested in her, it had tried to in the patient but without a proper out let had begun to rebound causing the symptoms.”

Elric gave her a considering look before reaching for the door handle. “That kind of thinking is precisely why I want fresh eyes on the case.”

With that, he pushed open the door and led them inside.

The patient sat propped up in a cot by the window, bathed in the afternoon light.

He was a man in his mid-thirties, lean but visibly weakened, his skin tinged with a pallor that suggested months, if not years, of battling his unknown affliction.

His dark auburn hair was unkempt but thick, his beard trimmed short, and his green eyes twinkled with mirth as he grinned at them.

“Ah, Master Elric,” he drawled. “You’ve brought reinforcements. Finally admitting you’re out of your depth?”

Elric let out a small chuckle. “Aric, if I had an ounce of your charm, I’d have a much easier time convincing these healers that I’m actually capable of saving you.”

Aric laughed, but the sound was followed by a deep, rattling breath that made Thalia’s stomach twist.

“Apprentices,” Elric said, turning back to them, “this is Aric. He has graciously tolerated my presence for the past year, much to his misfortune. He will now tolerate yours as well.”

Aric gave them a lazy salute. “Pleasure to meet you all. If you’re here to poke me with needles or make me drink more of those gods-awful tinctures, you can leave now.”

Cellen grinned. “We were actually hoping for the opposite. I, personally, was going to offer to sneak you some good whiskey.”

Aric barked a laugh, shaking his head. “I like this one.”

Elric sighed. “Please do not encourage him.”

Thalia watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. Despite his clear illness, Aric’s spirit hadn’t dimmed. He had the sort of warmth that immediately put people at ease.

“Aric, these are my new apprentices, Nyla, Marand, Cellen, and Thalia,” Elric introduced.

“They will be studying your case alongside me in hopes of finally solving the puzzle of what ails you.

" Aric gave them an exaggerated look of scrutiny before nodding. “Alright. If you lot can do better than the endless parade of healers before you, I’ll owe you a drink.” Thalia found herself smiling.

Something about him reminded her of home, of the way her father could make even the most mundane situations into something worth laughing over.

But beneath the humour, there was something else.

A mystery. And Thalia had never been one to ignore a mystery

The dining hall buzzed with the hum of voices, the scent of roasted meat and warm bread filling the air.

Thalia sat across from Nyla and Marand, with Cellen slouched beside her, chewing lazily on an apple.

Their dinner plates were nearly empty, but none of them seemed eager to leave just yet.

Instead, they poured over the stack of parchment notes Master Elric had passed along—records of Aric’s condition dating back more than a year.

“I don’t understand how he manages to keep his spirits up,” Nyla said, shaking her head as she skimmed through a report. “Most people would have lost hope by now.”

“He probably has,” Marand mused, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “But cracking jokes is easier than dwelling on it. It’s a distraction.”

Cellen snorted. “If I were stuck in a sickbed that long, I’d be unbearable.”

Thalia smirked. “You already are.”

He pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “I’m wounded. Mortally.”

Marand rolled her eyes. “Focus.”

Thalia flipped to a newer entry in the notes, scanning Elric’s careful handwriting.

“They’ve tested for fae poisoning, blood curses, and lingering magic residue.

They tried every standard cleansing tonic, bloodletting, and even magic-infused treatments.

” She frowned. “Nothing worked.”Nyla leaned over her shoulder, studying the page.

“The symptoms don’t match any known illnesses either, human or fae. ”

Marand tapped her quill against the table. “That green glow Master Elric mentioned. That’s unusual. I’ve never heard of an illness that makes someone glow green.”

“That could be our answer,” Thalia said, feeling a spark of excitement. “Maybe it isn’t an illness in the traditional sense. Maybe it’s something else entirely.”

Cellen stretched, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Well, whatever it is, I say we start where all good scholars do, the library.”

“I agree,” Thalia said, her determination solidifying. “The answer has to be there somewhere. If we dig deep enough, cross-reference the archives, and put the pieces together, we’ll find it.”

Nyla grinned. “You make it sound like some great adventure.”

“Maybe it is.”

Marand let out a tired sigh but smiled. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, I need more tea.

”Cellen groaned. “Books and tea. You three are insufferable.” Thalia laughed, feeling a rare sense of exhilaration.

She had no doubt the answer was out there.

All it would take was dedication and hard work, both things she had never been afraid of