Page 23 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)

T he forest stretched endlessly before her, shrouded in silver mist, the towering trees swaying like silent sentinels.

Moonlight filtered through the thick canopy, casting pale beams upon the soft, mossy ground.

The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, cool and invigorating, but Thalia wasn’t cold.

A warmth called to her, beckoning her forward.

And then she saw him.

The man stood at the heart of the clearing, tall and broad-shouldered, the moonlight illuminating the striking contrast of his black hair and pale blue eyes, eyes that seemed to glow like ice kissed by the morning sun.

His face was carved from something more perfect than any mortal man could hope to be, strong and regal, his beauty nothing short of devastating.

His lips curved into a knowing smile, one that sent an odd flutter through her chest. He was waiting for her. He always was.

A whisper on the wind, her name.

“Thalia.”

It came from nowhere and everywhere, a voice deep and familiar, stirring something within her that felt ancient, like a memory long buried.

She took a step forward, then another. Her heart pounded as she reached for him, as his own hand lifted, fingers grazing her cheek in a feather-light touch. It was cold, so impossibly cold,

Thalia’s eyes snapped open.

Her breath came in sharp, uneven pants as she lay frozen in bed, her fingers twitching against her cheek as if trying to grasp onto the ghost of his touch.

It had felt so real. The coolness of his fingers, the way they had lingered, the way his eyes had stared into hers like he had known her forever.

She swallowed hard, forcing her gaze to adjust to the darkness of her dormitory. The only sound was the rhythmic rise and fall of Nyla’s soft snores from the bed beside her, a stark contrast to the erratic beating of her own heart.

With a quiet sigh, she pushed back her covers. She wasn’t getting back to sleep now.

The temple grounds were quiet at this hour; the world bathed in the dim silver glow of the twin moons hanging high above. The air carried a faint chill, but the familiar surroundings brought a sense of calm as Thalia walked the stone paths leading toward the library.

The grand temple loomed to her left, its marble pillars and intricate carvings whispering of centuries of worship.

Small lanterns lined the walkways, flickering like fallen stars, their golden light casting soft shadows against the smooth stone.

Somewhere in the distance, the faint rustling of night creatures stirred among the well-tended hedges and flower beds, but otherwise, all was still.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

Why did she keep having these dreams?

They had started months ago, vague and fleeting at first, only the sensation of running through the trees, the cool air biting her skin, the overwhelming need to reach something just out of sight.

But lately, the dreams had sharpened, the man in them growing clearer, more defined.

She could see his face now. Feel his touch.

It was familiar. Like she knew it, had felt it before?

The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

If she thought about it, truly thought about it, those blue eyes, that confident smirk…

they were not unlike Vaelith’s. But that was impossible.

Vaelith had silver eyes, his hair wasn’t black, it was that shimmering, silver-white that caught the light like spun starlight.

So why was she thinking of him? Why did he always plague her thoughts.

She exhaled sharply, shaking the thoughts away as the library’s arched doors came into view. That wasn’t why she was here, she needed to focus on something, to distract herself.

The library was one of the oldest parts of the temple, a sprawling masterpiece of polished stone and towering shelves that stretched endlessly into the domed ceiling.

Massive chandeliers hung above, their enchanted candles casting a soft golden glow, illuminating the intricate carvings that decorated the walls.

A soft hush hung in the air, the kind of silence woven from centuries of knowledge and whispered conversations between scholars and healers.

Thalia stepped inside, inhaling the scent of parchment and ink, of worn leather and dust.

The towering shelves were lined with books bound in deep blues and greens, their gold-lettered spines gleaming faintly in the candlelight. Wooden ladders rested against the farthest shelves, reaching toward the highest tomes, their rungs polished smooth from years of use.

A few scattered desks and tables sat beneath the high-arched windows, the deep night sky visible through the glass. Beyond them, plush chairs were arranged in cozy corners, perfect for losing oneself in endless pages of knowledge.

She gravitated toward one now, settling into its warmth with a thick tome on rare ailments.

She had come here to seek comfort in the only way she knew how, research. This was where she felt closest to home. Her new patient Aric was providing her with the perfect excuse.

Something was wrong with him, something that neither human nor fae healers had been able to decipher. But that didn’t mean the answer wasn’t out there. She just had to find it.

With renewed determination, Thalia flipped open the book, her fingers tracing the delicate script as she began to read.

“Can’t sleep, little healer?”

The voice caught her off guard. Thalia looked up, heart skipping, only to find Vaelith leaning casually against the doorway, half in shadow. His tone was easy, almost amused.

“No,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Too many thoughts. Not enough answers.”

He stepped closer, his presence quiet but somehow filling the space. Then, without asking, he pulled out the chair beside her and sat.

“Should I be worried?” he asked lightly, resting his elbow on the table. “Or flattered you didn’t dream of me tonight?”

She snorted. “You think highly of yourself.”

“Only because I’ve earned it.” He offered her a small, teasing smile. “But really, what’s keeping you up?”

Thalia hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him, it was that the moment felt too still, too close.

“It’s nothing important,” she murmured, eyes dropping to the half-filled page of notes in front of her. “Just... everything.”

He studied her for a beat, then leaned back slightly, folding his arms. “You don’t have to talk. I can just sit here and be annoyingly good company.”

She laughed under her breath. “You? Quiet? That’ll be a change.” she bit out sarcastically

“I didn’t say quiet. I said good company.”

She shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are. Not kicking me out.” his eyes danced with amusement.

Thalia rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. The quiet between them settled again, not heavy, just companionable. She tried to refocus on writing her notes, but his presence, warm, steady, entirely too close, kept tugging at the edge of her attention.

“Tell me something,” he said after a while, voice softer now. “Something I don’t know about you.”

She glanced sideways. “Why?”

He met her gaze without flinching. “Because I you want to.”

That shouldn’t have made her heart do what it did. She looked away.

“Alright,” she said, nibbling the edge of her lip. “When I was ten, I faked being sick to get out of going to a naming ceremony in my village. I spent the full day reading under a blanket and had zero regrets.”

He blinked, then huffed a quiet laugh. “menace”

“You asked.”

“I was expecting something a bit more... scandalous.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

He tilted his head, watching her. “You don’t disappoint me, Thalia.”

Her breath caught. That wasn’t teasing. Not entirely.

“Your turn, tell me something I couldn't find out about you in the records held in here “she gestured round them.

Vaelith considered this, tipping his head. “I hate the cold.”

She blinked. “That’s your great confession?”

“I’m serious. It makes me grumpy.”

“You’re always grumpy.”

He feigned a wince. “Cruel. And here I was thinking we were becoming close.”

Her gaze dropped instinctively to his hands, resting on the table. She could still feel them—strong, demanding, knowing. A wave of heat rushed up her spine.

He must’ve noticed her look because his mouth curved slowly.

“Thinking about something, Thalia?”

“No,” she said too quickly, reaching for her notes. Her hands trembled slightly. Gods, he saw.

“Right.” He stretched lazily, and her eyes followed the ripple of muscle beneath his shirt. Unfair

When her gaze lifted again, he was still watching her. Not smug. Not smiling. Just... watching.

“What?” she asked, her voice too soft.

“You’re not what I expected.”

Her lips parted slightly. “Is that... good?”

He gave her a small, half-smile. “I’m still figuring that out.” He stood then, slowly, like he wasn’t quite ready to leave but knew he should.

“Goodnight, little menace,” he said gently, and with one last glance, turned and disappeared into the shadows between the shelves.

Thalia exhaled, leaned back in her chair, and stared at her notes without seeing a single word.

Gods help her, she was in trouble.