Page 26 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)

T he morning air was crisp as Thalia and Nyla made their way toward the hospital wing, their soft chatter filling the stone corridors of the temple.

The scent of fresh herbs and faintly burning incense lingered in the air, a familiar, calming presence as sunlight filtered through the high-arched windows.

“I swear if I have to sit through another lecture about potion ratios, I’ll fall asleep right there in the lab,” Nyla grumbled, adjusting the strap of her satchel. “We’re healers, not alchemists. Why do they insist on,”

A frantic set of footsteps echoed down the corridor behind them, followed by a sharp, breathless voice.

"Thalia! Nyla!"

Thalia barely had time to turn before Marand appeared, running full speed toward them, her face flushed, her dark curls wild around her face. She skidded to a halt, chest heaving, eyes wide with worry.

“Master Elric, he’s calling for us,” she panted. “It’s Aric, his condition changed overnight. He wants us there immediately.”

Thalia’s stomach dropped.

She barely registered Nyla’s gasp before she took off running down the corridor, her heart hammering in her chest.

Aric. Please be alright.

Her thoughts raced as her boots pounded against the polished stone floor Nyla matching her pace. What had changed? Why was he worse? Was he dying? Had they missed something—

She didn’t slow, didn’t hesitate as they rounded a corner, nearly colliding with a group of startled priestesses. They barely managed a polite nod of apology before continuing their sprint toward the hospital wing, the urgency burning through Thalia like fire.

Aric had been stable. Weak, but stable.

What had happened?

Master Elric stood in the centre of his office, his expression solemn, hands clasped neatly behind his back.

Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, illuminating the stacks of medical texts and scattered notes on his desk, but despite the warmth of the morning light, the air in the room felt heavy.

Cellen was already there, leaning against a shelf with his arms crossed, his usual easy smirk absent. He straightened slightly as Thalia, Nyla, and Marand rushed in, still catching their breath from the run.

Master Elric offered them a curt nod. “Ah, ladies. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

His voice was as calm and steady as always, but there was an edge to it, something tight, something measured.

Thalia swallowed hard. “What happened?”

Elric exhaled through his nose, his fingers twitching slightly before he smoothed them over his robes.

“During the night, Aric suffered another attack.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over them.

“But this time, the glowing lasted significantly longer. His body is.” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

“It’s struggling. More than before. His strength is failing. He does not have much time left.”

The room fell deathly silent.

Thalia’s stomach twisted as she processed the words. She had known Aric was deteriorating, but hearing it spoken so plainly, so final, made it feel real in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

“What exactly do you mean by struggling ?” Marand asked, her voice steady, but her fingers fidgeting at her side.

Elric sighed. “His pulse is faint, his breathing laboured. His body is having trouble sustaining itself. His limbs are weaker, and his fever is higher than it has ever been. Whatever is happening to him, it is accelerating.”

Thalia’s mind raced through everything they had studied, everything they had tested. “And the glow? Did it fade naturally?”

Elric nodded. “Yes, but it took much longer than before. The longer these episodes last, the more damage they seem to do. We still do not know the cause, nor do we understand how to stop it.”

Cellen pushed a hand through his copper hair, exhaling slowly. “Have you tried magical intervention? Something stronger than what’s already been attempted?”

“I have consulted the senior healers,” Elric admitted. “We attempted a direct infusion of light magic this morning, but the reaction was… violent.”

Thalia’s breath hitched. “Violent how?”

Elric’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It caused him pain . Excruciating pain. His body rejected it entirely.”

Thalia’s heart sank. That wasn’t normal. Fae magic was supposed to heal, not harm.

“Then what do we do?” Nyla asked, voice quiet but firm.

Elric straightened, his gaze sweeping over each of them, studying their faces. “We go see him.”

Thalia’s throat went dry.

“We must remain strong and professional,” Elric continued. “I know Aric is a wonderful patient, and I understand that you have all grown fond of him. But your emotions must not cloud your judgment. He needs your best care, and his wife and child need your support now more than ever.”

Thalia’s chest tightened at the mention of Aric’s family. She had spent enough time with them to see the deep love his wife had for him, the adoration in his daughter’s wide eyes.

He couldn’t die.

Not when he had so much to live for.

She clenched her hands into fists, forcing away the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to rise in her chest.

Professional. Focused. Strong.

She could do that.

She had to.

Elric gave them one last measured glance before gesturing toward the door. “Come. Let’s not waste any more time.”

With a shared breath, the four of them followed

The room was quiet, save for the faint crackling of the fireplace and the rasp of Aric’s laboured breathing.

The air inside was thick with sickness, carrying the faint scent of herbs and candle wax, but beneath it all, there was something heavier—a sense of finality that settled like a weight in Thalia’s chest.

A priestess stood near the bedside, her hands glowing with a soft golden light as she gently pressed a damp cloth to Aric’s forehead. She worked quietly, her brows furrowed in concentration, though Thalia could see the underlying worry in her eyes.

Aric lay propped against several pillows, his once solid frame now frail, his skin sickly pale, almost translucent.

A soft green shimmer still lingered along his forearms, fading slowly, but it had clearly left him weaker than before.

His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling at an uneven rhythm.

Across the room, his wife sat beside their daughter, her slender fingers absently stroking the little girl’s dark curls as she slept curled up in a chair far too big for her.

The exhaustion in her features was evident, deep shadows beneath her eyes, her usually warm brown gaze dulled with worry and grief.

She looked up as they entered, her voice breaking with quiet desperation. “Master Elric… has there been any progress?”

Elric offered her a gentle nod, stepping forward to place a hand on Aric’s shoulder, feeling the weak pulse at his wrist. He took a long moment to examine him, checking the heat of his skin, the slow sluggishness of his body as Aric barely stirred at the contact.

When he finally spoke, it was soft, so achingly gentle that Thalia’s stomach tightened in dread.

“I am so sorry,” Elric said, his voice laced with quiet sorrow. “But we have done all we can.”

A single breath.

A moment of silence.

Aric’s wife let out a shattered sob, her fingers tightening around her daughter's small frame as her shoulders shook with grief.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, there has to be something else. He, he’s still here, he’s still fighting,”

Elric knelt beside her, his own features heavy with emotion.

“I know how much you love him,” he murmured.

“And I know how much he loves you and your daughter. He is still fighting. But his body is failing him. If we continue treatments that only cause him pain, we are not healing him, we are only prolonging his suffering.”

The words cut through Thalia like a blade, sharp and unrelenting.

Aric, who had always smiled through the pain, who had joked with them even when he could barely sit up, was dying, there was nothing more they could do.

Aric’s wife pressed a hand to her mouth, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I just, don’t know how to do this without him.”

Thalia clenched her fists at her sides, struggling to keep her emotions in check.

Master Elric offered her a soft, knowing look. “Spend time with him. Cherish every moment.” He hesitated, then added gently, “We will continue to provide what comfort we can.”

Thalia couldn’t watch this anymore. The grief in this room was too much, suffocating in a way that made her feel helpless—she hated feeling helpless.

As they left the room, the air outside suddenly felt cool, fresh, yet it wasn’t enough to clear the heavy weight pressing against her chest.

Cellen ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I hate this,” he muttered. “I hate not being able to do anything.”

“We should go back to the library,” Marand suggested, her voice tight with frustration. “There has to be something we missed.”

Thalia barely heard them. Her mind racing, grasping to any idea that could help.

Vaelith’s reaction last night, his words going round in her head,

"The answers you're looking for aren't in this book."

Had he known?

He had known something.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as a new, wild idea took root.

What if she had been searching in the wrong place?

What if Vaelith knew what was happening to Aric?

“I have an idea,” Thalia blurted suddenly, already turning on her heel.

The others blinked at her in surprise.

“What?” Nyla asked.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back soon,” she called over her shoulder, already running down the corridor.

She didn’t wait for their protests.

She had no time to explain.

Because if Vaelith did know something, if he had any knowledge that could save Aric,

Then she was going to drag it out of him