Page 28 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)

"I know you have celestial magic," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper now. "It’s the only explanation. And that means you’re either High Fae or descended from them."

Vaelith’s face twisted ,disgust, disbelief, something else entirely flashing across his features.

"High Fae?" His voice was flat, cold, almost mocking. “You think I’m High Fae?”

Thalia’s breath caught, not just from the look on his face, but from the way he spat the words.

Like they were poison in his mouth.

She didn’t understand, didn’t understand the sheer weight behind the way his jaw ticked, the way his nostrils flared, the way his shoulders looked tense enough to snap. Silence ensued between them.

When he spoke again, his voice was low and quiet, his silver eyes darker than she had ever seen them.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He turned from her, with a heavy sigh, he dragged a hand down his face, exhaustion lining his features. For the first time since she had known him, he looked tired

He stared at her, his silver eyes sharp, unreadable, his broad frame tense as if weighing something heavy.

"You're wrong."

Thalia’s stomach twisted.

His voice wasn’t mocking or cruel, there was no smirk, no teasing lilt to his words. He said it plainly, firmly, as though it was a truth he had carried for a long time.

"My powers are different," he continued, his tone even, unyielding. "And they are no concern of yours."

Thalia clenched her fists. "You can’t expect me to just ignore what I saw, what I felt . I know I’m not imagining things, Vaelith. I know, "

"You know nothing," he cut in, sounding exasperated, like this was an argument he had fought before.

The room felt smaller, closer, like the weight of what was unspoken pressed against them both, before she could fire back, before she could demand answers, he surprised her.

“I once heard of an illness like this,”

She froze, afraid he would stop talking and leave her in the dark once again.

His silver eyes were distant now, as though looking beyond her, beyond the room, beyond this very moment.

"It was just a story," he continued, his voice low, measured, as if reluctant to even speak the words. "Something my father told me when I was a boy. A tale, nothing more."

Thalia latched onto his every word, her pulse thrumming.

"But even if it were true," he said, his gaze locking onto hers once more, "you have no way of getting what you need to heal Aric."

"Tell me anyway."

Vaelith exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Thalia..."

"Tell me." She was pleading now, desperate, clutching at whatever thread of hope remained.

He watched her for a long, agonizing moment. Then, with clear reluctance, he spoke.

"They called it Solmara’s Veil ," he murmured. "A disease that once plagued the world, long ago, when the High Fae and the dragons were still at war."

Thalia’s mind raced but she said nothing, letting him speak.

Vaelith’s jaw tightened, his silver eyes flashing with something dark, haunted.

"It was merciless," "A sickness that ate away at the body’s very essence, draining its strength, consuming its mana"

Thalia felt her stomach drop.

Mana.

“But Aric isn't fae, he’s human, humans don't have magic”

Vaelith’s expression grew grimmer "The disease left people weak, unable to even stand. Fae, humans, anyone with even a trace of mana in their veins was vulnerable. And once it took hold, it did not stop."

His voice was steady, but Thalia could see it, the way his fingers flexed slightly, the way his shoulders tensed, the way something like grief flickered through his eyes.

"It didn’t just kill," he continued quietly. "It erased people. Thousands. Humans, lesser fae… entire villages wiped out in weeks. Nothing we tried could stop it."

We.

Thalia’s stomach dropped at the word, but she didn’t interrupt.

Something was wrong—not just in what he was saying, but in how he was saying it. Like this was more than a story to him.

Like he had seen it himself.

"How did it end?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vaelith was silent for a long time.

Then, he sighed, his expression pained.

"The only cure," he murmured, his voice heavier than she had ever heard it, "is the mana of dragon fire."

The world seemed to tilt beneath her feet.

Thalia stared at him, her lips parting, but no words came out.

Dragon fire.

Dragon fae, they had been wiped out centuries ago, no one had seen a dragon in years, they were myths.

This was impossible.

She felt her knees weaken, despair setting in "No," she whispered. "That can’t be right, there has to be something else—there has to—"

"There’s not."

The words were final, a cruel, unrelenting truth that crushed the air from her lungs.

She shook her head. "I, "

She broke then, collapsing to the ground, sobs wracking her as the crushing truth hit, she couldn’t save Aric

Vaelith’s hands were suddenly on her arms, steadying her.

His grip was firm, grounding, and his voice, softer now, apologetic, almost regretful, spoke to something deep inside her.

"I’m sorry," he murmured.

Thalia let out a shaky breath, her eyes burning.

It had all been for nothing.

All the searching, all the desperate hope, Aric was going to die.

Her fingers dug into his sleeves, gripping the fabric as if she could will a different answer from him. "There has to be another way."

Vaelith exhaled slowly, his silver gaze filled with concern

"I wish there was,"

For the first time since she had met him, Thalia believed him.

Thalia didn’t know how long she stayed like that, pressed against Vaelith’s chest, her body wracked with silent, heaving sobs. Time felt like it had stretched and warped, an endless loop of grief, regret, and something darker curling in her stomach like poison.

Her fingers had twisted into the fabric of his tunic, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

She couldn’t stop seeing Aric’s face, his tired but ever-kind eyes, the warmth he still managed to show even when his body was failing him. She saw the way his daughter clung to him, the way his wife had looked at him like he was the centre of her entire world.

They were going to loose him.

Her mind whispered the awful, cutting truth:

You failed him.

For the first time since she had arrived at the temple, doubt crept in—a small, insidious voice curling through her grief.

Maybe I’m not meant to be a healer. I’m not good enough.

She had always thought that if she worked hard enough, studied long enough, dedicated herself completely, she could save people . That she could make a difference.

But Aric was going to die and no amount of knowledge, no amount of training, no amount of desperate hope could change that.

She had been so arrogant.

So certain that there was always a way. That if she just tried hard enough, she could outthink fate.

But fate had laughed in her face.

Another choked sob escaped her, she barely noticed when Vaelith’s arms tightened slightly, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles along her back.

Shhh, he murmured softly, his voice lower, gentler than she had ever heard it.

She hated that she found momentary comfort in it, hated that his warmth, his solid, steady presence, was the only thing anchoring her right now.

Gods, she felt so lost.

"You did everything you could," Vaelith murmured against the top of her head.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head against his chest.

"It wasn’t enough," she whispered, voice raw.

Vaelith was silent for a moment, his fingers still tracing slow, grounding patterns against her spine.

Softly, he whispered in her ear, "Don’t let this break you, little healer."

His voice carried something quietly fierce, something steady and sure.

"You are going to do wonderful things," he said. "I know it."

Thalia let out a shuddering breath, trying to let his words settle, but the weight of failure still pressed down on her like a stone.

Vaelith didn’t rush her. He simply held her, his breathing even and calm, his presence unwavering, letting her take whatever she needed from him in this moment.

Eventually, her sobs subsided into silent, exhausted tremors, her body still curled into his.

She was tired. Gods, she was so tired.

As if sensing her exhaustion, Vaelith let out a soft sigh before gently pulling away.

"Come on," he said, a strange gentleness in his tone. " I’ll make you something warm."

Too emotionally drained to argue, Thalia let him scoop her off the floor into his arms and gently place her in a comfortable chair near the hearth.

Vaelith moved with quiet efficiency, stepping toward the small wooden counter, where a simple kettle rested. The sound of water being poured, the soft rustle of tea leaves, and the gentle clink of ceramic filled the silence.

Thalia rubbed at her aching eyes, her breath still shaky as she watched him move.

She had never seen him like this before—so patient, so gentle.

There was no arrogant smirk, no infuriating teasing or aloof remarks. Just… him. Steady. Present. Somehow it made her feel safe comfortable.

A moment later, he returned, kneeling in front of her and pressing a warm ceramic cup into her hands.

"Drink," he said simply.

She hesitated for only a second before obeying. The tea was sweet and floral, the warmth spreading down her throat and curling in her stomach like a soothing balm.

She exhaled slowly. "Thank you."

He nodded, watching her carefully.

" Do you want me to take you back to the temple?"

Thalia hesitated, staring into the swirling amber liquid of her tea.

The idea of going back to her dormitory, of lying awake in the dark, haunted by Aric’s face, by his wife’s tears, by the weight of helplessness,

She nodded, setting the cup down. "Yes. Please."

She had no other choice .

Vaelith stood, offering her his hand.

She took it.

For the first time, as he led her out into the fading afternoon light, Thalia allowed herself to lean on him, if only for a little while. Needing to feel his strength and warmth.

The soft chime of bells rang through the quiet streets, a delicate, melancholy sound carried by the wind.

Thalia paused mid-step, her breath hitching as she turned toward the Temple of Eshu.

It was a striking building, its light stone archways adorned with intricate blue designs, swirling patterns carved deep into the stone like twisting ribbons of fate.

The etched reliefs of entwined hands and celestial symbols shimmered in the shifting glow of the temple sconces, reflecting the god of luck and destiny’s ever-turning wheel.

A line of priestesses moved toward the entrance, their deep indigo robes flowing like liquid shadow, hoods drawn up over their bowed heads. Their movements were silent, reverent, an air of mystery surrounding them as they stepped into the hallowed space of the temple.

Vaelith followed her gaze, his silver-white brows drawing together slightly. "It’s time for their sermon," he said, his voice soft, lacking its usual teasing edge. "Eshu’s priestesses gather to offer prayers for those who seek their god’s favour."

Thalia’s chest tightened,

My mother once prayed in this temple.

She asked Eshu for a child… and he answered.

Hope, desperate and fragile, flared in her chest like the flicker of a dying candle.

"Thalia?" Vaelith’s voice was laced with concern as she turned to face him.

She swallowed. "I’d like to join the sermon."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. He studied her for a long moment before tilting his head. "I wouldn’t have thought you the praying type."

Neither had she, but she had tried everything else.

If there was even the slightest chance—if there was anything, anything at all that could help Aric, she had to try. She owed it to his family.

Vaelith watched her carefully, and for once, he didn’t argue. Instead, his expression softened, as though he understood what this meant to her.

"I’ll come with you," he said.

Thalia shook her head. "I’ll be okay."

His lips pressed into a thin line, hesitation flickering in his silver gaze. But then, with a sigh, he nodded.

“Alright,”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The weight of everything that had happened between them lingered, unspoken.

Gently, so gently, he bent forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering against her skin for the briefest moment.

Thalia sucked in a sharp breath; her eyes fluttering shut at the unexpected tenderness of it. A warm tingling spreading through her body.

When she opened them, Vaelith was already pulling away, his expression solemn, a rare look of sorrow settling over his sharp features.

"Your gentle heart," he murmured, "is what makes you the best of us."

Thalia’s throat tightened, emotion rising too fast, too sharp to contain.

She wanted to say something, anything, but all she could do was give him a small nod, before she turned toward the temple steps.

With her chest aching, she climbed.

One step at a time