Page 39 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)
T halia stared blankly at the shelves before her, rows upon rows of ancient tomes and velum scrolls.
Spines marked with unfamiliar markings of long, forgotten runes.
The library’s upper level was bathed in the golden light of the morning, quiet, with only the soft rustling of parchment and the faint scratch of quills.
She knew she should be revising her notes for tomorrow’s potion theory assessment or at the very least preparing for her upcoming diagnostic rotation in the hospital wing.
She was uncharacteristically distracted.
Her eyes continuously drifting to a worn leather volume she had hidden amongst her other texts.
The guilt sat heavily on her conscience.
Three nights previous in what could only be described as a moment of madness she had sneaked into the restrictive archives after dark and took it.
It was a nearly illegible, water-stained collection of fragmented histories, legends and gods, scraps of lore too fragile or inconsistent to be held in the main temple records.
She had hoped to find some mention of Kek or the temple of knowledge in the index, but there had been nothing, she was now left with the tedious task of trawling through footnotes.
Thalia sighed, frustration bubbling at her lack of progress.
“Okay,” she murmured to herself, “start again.”
She flipped open the ancient text and began the tedious task of sifting through the pages, eyes scanning for symbols, etchings, dates, anything that could help her.
She was halfway through a passage about an old fae territory of water affiliates when a voice whispered beside her.
“You’re spiralling.”
She looked up sharply to see Nyla, arms crossed, watching her with concern. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose braid, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
“I’m not,” Thalia lied.
“You’ve been withdrawn for weeks. You think we haven’t noticed?” Nyla pulled out a chair and sat beside her, eyes drifting to the text. “This doesn’t look like prep for potions class.”
Thalia reached for the book, sliding it closed with deliberate calm. “It’s just… personal research.”
“On legends and folk lore?”
“I’ve been… curious, I like the old stories.”
Nyla narrowed her eyes, “Alright. Curious. But you’re running yourself ragged, coming to bed late every night, heading to the library before class, you don’t even join us for meals anymore, what's going on? ”
“I’m fine”
“You’re not,” Nyla said gently. “You’re not yourself, your distracted! Last week during our rotation, you almost dosed the wrong infusion.”
Thalia’s cheeks burned. “It was a mistake.”
“You don’t make mistakes Thal.”
Thalia looked away, she didn’t want to lie to her friend anymore, but how could she tell her the truth?
How could she explain that she has been dreaming of a male who just so happens to be a lost fae prince trapped since the dragon wars in some dream world prison cursed by the evil dragons so no living soul remembers him, that the same curse altered the very history they know, oh and just as a caveat she was soul bonded to him ?
That her only hope of saving him was to find some long lost temple of a long lost god. Who would believe her?
“I’m just… working through somethings at the moment” It was a pathetic answer, but the best she could offer.
Nyla didn’t push further, but the look she gave her said she wasn’t going to let this go.
“Everything okay?” Marand asked as she slid into the seat opposite Thalia, balancing a stack of texts on fae-human genetic anomalies. Her smile faltered slightly as she looked at them both, clearly aware of the tension.
“Just worrying about our girl here,” Nyla said matter of factly.
Thalia groaned.
“I said I’m fine.”
Marand didn’t argue, she reached across the table and squeezed Thalia’s hand, the simple gesture of support saying more than words.
A moment later, Cellen arrived, flopping into the chair beside Marand “ What’s with the long faces? What are we fretting about now? Is it me? It’s me, isn’t it? I’m too beautiful and it’s ruining morale.”
Despite herself, Thalia snorted.
“There she is,” Cellen said brightly, leaning back in his chair. “There’s our sunshine. You look so much prettier when you smile, You need to start thinking of your frown lines Thal your only lesser fae”
“I’m going to smother you with a pillow,” Thalia muttered.
“Do it. I’ll die pretty.”
Nyla and Marand both chuckled, despite the obvious tension, she was happy to have her friends around her. She had missed them, her secrets had left her feeling lonely and isolated. She longed to tell them everything maybe they would help her?
The rest of the day passed in a blur of lectures, healing simulations, and hospital rounds.
Thalia tried to stay focused, but her mind kept drifting, she was desperate to head back to the library.
By evening, they were seated in the temple gardens, enjoying a rare break beneath the golden light of the setting sun.
Students mingled across the lawns, the air alive with conversation and music drifting from the city amphitheatre.
“I heard tomorrow they’re hosting another open-air recital,” Marand said, picking at the petals of a wildflower. “Some traveling fae musicians.”
“Oh no,” Cellen groaned. “Not another one of those melancholic flute groups. They make me want to throw myself into the river.”
“I like the flutes,” Nyla said, mock offended.
“You would,” he teased. “You’re emotionally stable.”
Nyla laughed “There’s supposed to be a street party after “
“Ooo count me in “ Marand exclaimed
“ Well, we all know if your going Cellen’s sure to follow”
“Hey!”
“Thal you coming?”
Thalia shifted uncomfortably, “I can’t sorry, I- I need to brush up on my diagnosis charms, Elric will have a fit if I get anything wrong again”
Her friends stared at her for a long moment. She kept her gaze on the horizon. Not wanting to meet their eyes. “Next time though!” Before anyone could protest, she quickly made her excuses and headed back to the dormitory.
That night, Thalia waited until she was sure Nyla was asleep before slipping out of bed and dressing by moonlight.
She padded silently through the corridors, down to the restricted archives again.
She Knew the consequence if she was caught could mean immediate expulsion, but she didn’t care. She needed answers.
The air in the restricted archives was always cold.
Not in the way that made her shiver, but in that hollow way, like time itself had paused.
Thalia moved slowly between the shelves, her fingertips brushing the worn leather spines, half-faded titles written in dialects she barely recognized.
Most students never came this deep. Even many of the priestesses rarely bothered with the unindexed vaults, but Thalia had realised that the answers she was looking for wouldn’t be on neat shelves under labelled scrolls.
She paused at a crooked case tucked in the far back corner. The wood bowed slightly, like the weight of the history it held had finally taken its toll .Her eyes scanned the haphazardly stacked volumes, she didn’t know exactly what she was looking for. Only that she’d know it when she saw it.
Her fingers brushed over a small, warped book tucked behind two thick encyclopaedias of leyline theory.
It was bound in cracked black leather, its title almost illegible.
A single faded symbol etched into the cover caught the faint light, interlocking circles, with what looked like spirals branching outward like threads unravelling.
She pulled it free. The pages whispered as she turned them, brittle and yellowed.
Most were filled with inconsistent script, some sections almost manic, as though the writer had scrawled in a rush.
There were fragments of prayers, obscure references to rituals, a list of gods with no descriptions, just names that appeared to have been written in haste.
Carefully she turned the pages. Near the back she found a page that had clearly been folded dozens of times, its edges torn and smudged with age.
She opened it carefully. It was a sketch.
Faint, but intact. A map? No, more like a tracing of an old carving.
It depicted a rough, tiered structure, trees surrounded it, dense and thorny.
A river cut through the land below. And beneath the sketch, in faded ink, one word.
Kek. Her breath hitched. She ran her trembling fingers over the ink afraid it might vanish.
The temple was real, and she had finally found her first clue.
A rush of emotion surged through her chest. Her thoughts shifted to Caelum’s words; Find the temple, and you’ll find the answers.
Her throat tightened. What did it mean that her fate was tied to something the world had erased?
She leaned back in the chair, eyes still fixed on the sketch, her pulse thudding in her ears.
She traced the sketch with one finger, as though by touching the ink she could be drawn into it.
A whisper passed over her skin, not a sound, more a sense.
She suddenly had the feeling as though something or someone was watching her.
She scanned her surroundings; she was still alone.
Her fingers trembled. She scanned rest of the pages in the book, there was no more details on its location, no context just jumbled half written prose on ancient pathways, something that looked as though it said vanishing gods?
And a strange diagram of a magical convergence so complex her head hurt.
Thalia closed the book slowly, her hands were steady now, her heartbeat slower.
The silence of the archive pressed in around her like a shroud, it may not be the answers she was looking for, but it was definitely a positive start, after weeks of disappointment this was more than enough to help raise her spirits.
She slipped the book into the pocket of her robe, careful not to bend the fragile cover, and slowly made her way out of the archives, toward the dim corridor leading back to her dormitory.