Page 35 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)
Thalia opened the door to her room quietly, hoping to slip in unnoticed, but the soft lamplight still glowed from the far side of the space, casting warm golden tones across the stone floor.
Nyla was sprawled sideways across her bed, a cup in hand and a flushed glow to her cheeks. Her eyes lifted lazily when the door creaked, and a wide grin stretched across her face.
“Well, look who finally came home,” she announced, voice slurred just enough to betray the wine on her breath. She sat up, wobbling slightly, then pointed a finger at Thalia like she’d just won a prize. “I take it my little intervention worked?”
Thalia blinked, frozen in place, still shaken from everything that had happened.
Nyla beamed. “Don’t thank me all at once,” she said with mock modesty. “I just figured if Vaelith was going to keep playing his twisted, cryptic, mindfuckery games with you, he might as well have the decency to fix the damn mess himself.” She lifted her cup in a one-woman toast. “You’re welcome.”
Thalia’s vision blurred. Her fingers gripped the strap of her satchel so tightly her knuckles turned white.
A sob tore from her lips before she could stop it, her knees buckling as the weight of everything, Caelum, Vaelith, the bond, the magic, the confusion, the guilt, came crashing down all at once.
Nyla dropped her cup, the ceramic clinking loudly against the stone as she scrambled off her bed and rushed to Thalia’s side.
“Gods, Thal—Thalia! What happened?” she gasped, catching her just before she hit the floor. “Hey, hey, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Thalia collapsed into her arms, sobs shaking her whole frame. Nyla gently guided her to the edge of the bed, lowering them both down, her arms wrapping tight around her friend’s trembling body.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Nyla muttered fiercely, stroking her hair. “I swear to the goddess, I’ll find him, and I’ll stick a feverweed salve where no one wants feverweed.”
Thalia let out a broken, watery laugh between sobs, clinging to her.
Nyla rocked her gently. “What did he do, Thal? What did that cold bastard say to you?”
“It’s not him,” Thalia sobbed, voice muffled against Nyla’s shoulder. “It’s me. It’s all my fault. I, I messed everything up. I’m so confused”
“He poured his heart out to me and I... Gods, I hurt him, he looked so broken”
Her heart pounded painfully. Guilt and longing warred inside her chest like a storm, ripping her in two.
Nyla pulled back just enough to cup Thalia’s cheeks, her own eyes glassy now, too.
“Hey. No. No, Thalia. You’re allowed to be confused.
You’re allowed to feel. That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. ”
Thalia shook her head, tears streaking her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I don’t even know what’s happening anymore. It’s just, too much.”
Nyla hugged her again, tight and protective. “Then we figure it out. Together. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, okay?”
Thalia nodded slowly, eyes closing, letting herself lean fully into her friend’s embrace.
She didn’t have the answers. Not yet, but in this moment, with Nyla holding her close and whispering soft, angry promises to hurt anyone who made her cry she knew she wasn’t alone
The next morning came with dull grey light and an ache behind Thalia’s eyes.
She hadn’t dreamed. She sat slumped at the breakfast table in the communal dining hall, nursing a mug of sweet tea, her face half-buried in the steam.
Nyla sat glued to her side like a mother hen, radiating don’t you dare energy at anyone who so much as glanced in Thalia’s direction for too long.
Across the table, Cellen leaned in with a slow grin.
“So…” He glanced at Thalia’s face and raised a brow.
“Did the shadows under your eyes gain sentience, or are you just trying out a new look? ”Thalia groaned, burying her face in her hands.
“Cellen!” Nyla snapped, dropping her spoon with a sharp clatter. “Say one more thing about her face and I’ll shove your boots so far down your throat you’ll be coughing up laces.”
He held up both hands in surrender. “I was kidding!” He looked toward Thalia, suddenly sheepish. “Sorry, Thal. Poorly timed joke.”
“It’s fine,” she mumbled, not lifting her head.
Marand gave him a sharp nudge with her elbow, glaring, then turned back to Thalia with a gentle smile. “Really though, are you okay?”
Nyla looped her arm around Thalia’s shoulder protectively. “She doesn’t have to be okay.”
Thalia let out a tired sigh, finally looking up to meet their gazes, three sets of eyes filled with concern, waiting, giving her the space she hadn’t even asked for.
“I just…” She looked down at her tea, fingers tracing the rim of the cup. “Thank you. All of you. For not pushing.”
“When you’re ready,” Marand said softly, “we’re here.”
Thalia nodded, throat thick. She couldn’t begin to untangle the mess in her head.
She hadn’t seen Caelum. The forest hadn’t come.
She didn’t know whether to feel relief or grief at that.
And when, if, he returned, how would she face him?
Knowing what nearly happened with Vaelith?
Knowing the light had exploded from her like it belonged to Caelum, not to her?
And then there was Vaelith. The broken, hollow look in his eyes.
It haunted her. Yet, he hadn’t turned cruel.
He’d only vanished… with quiet, unbearable restraint.
“I had a bad night,” she said finally, eyes still on her tea. “But I’ll be alright.”
Cellen gave her a look like he wanted to say something else, then glanced at Nyla and wisely kept it to himself.
“Alright,” Nyla said brightly, too brightly. “Well, you’re coming to the festival with us tonight.”
“I don’t know if I—”
“Nope,” Cellen said, shaking his head. “You don’t get to skip this one. You skip, we all skip.”
“Exactly,” Marand added, smiling warmly. “And I already planned my outfit, so you have to go.”
Thalia stared at them, lips parting.
“You guys…” she whispered. “You’re ridiculous.”
“We’re your ridiculous,” Nyla said, lifting her chin proudly.
A laugh bubbled out of Thalia, soft, hoarse, but real.
She didn’t know how she was going to face Caelum. Or Vaelith. Or the questions clawing at her chest like wild things desperate to escape, but she did know this: she wasn’t alone. Not while she had them.