Page 47 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)
T he scent of crushed mint and dried healing root lingered in the air as Thalia adjusted the position of her hands over the patient's lower abdomen, channelling the soft glow of her light-based healing spell. The woman on the cot groaned softly, then relaxed as the warmth of the magic visibly soother her pain. Thalia’s brow furrowed in concentration, willing the spell to hold and steady.
“Excellent, Thalia,” Master Elric’s voice came from just behind her shoulder. “Well placed, even flow. Your touch is sure today.”
Thalia offered a quiet smile, cheeks warm from the praise. “Thank you, Master Elric." He nodded, watching the patient's vitals shift to a more comfortable rhythm. “A proper nerve sedative infusion spell takes a steady core. I can tell you’ve been practicing.”
Thalia nodded again. The patient was now asleep, slowly she pulled her magic back within herself. She turned to leave but Elric didn’t move away. She felt him studying her before he spoke.
“Thalia,” he said, his voice lowered so only she could hear. “I know the days have been long lately, but… is everything all right?”
She glanced up at him, startled.
“You’ve seemed distracted,” he added, not unkindly. “A little frayed at the edges. Is the pressure getting to you?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Lying to Master Elric felt wrong somehow.
“I’m okay,” she said eventually, the truth was tangled in the words. “Just… trying to manage everything. I want to do well. I’ve always wanted to be a healer.”
“I know,” Elric said gently. “You’ve got the heart of one. It shows in the way you focus, the way you care. But remember, one of us walk this path alone. Ask for help if you need it. Even if it’s just to share the weight.”
Thalia swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, his praise and kind words fuelling her guilt at the way she had neglected her studies recently
“Now,” he said, clapping his hands together addressing the group. “You’re dismissed to class. And Thalia? Excellent work today.”
She offered him a grateful smile and turned to head toward the corridor that led back to the Temple’s central wing, the distant bells marking the next class hour echoing down the stone hall.
Her steps slowed as she made her way through the sun-dappled corridor.
This was what she’d always dreamed of. Working in the hospital wing, learning from Elric, casting her healing spells on real patients.
Back in her village, she’d turned down countless gatherings, skipped festivals, buried herself in books while her peers laughed in the fields and stayed out under the stars.
All so she could one day wear these robes.
Stand in these halls. Yet now, when she was finally here, her thoughts were clouded by a High Fae prince trapped in a dream realm, of forgotten forests, gods and temples.
A male who only appeared in her dreams or at least he once had.
And then there was Vaelith, a dragon, her enemy who was hell bent on stopping her at every step.
Thalia's jaw clenched as her footsteps slowed near the garden courtyard. Whenever she tried to think of Vaelith as the enemy there was this nagging sense she was being unfair. She had never actually seen Vaelith do anything overtly cruel. No displays of power or tyranny. No harm to the apprentices. He had saved her from Marcus at the festival. Comforted her after Aric’s decline.
Held her and comforted her when she cried.
But he had also caught her with Caelum and threatened her.
He had fought in the war. The war that had wiped out Caelum’s people.
The war that had banished the High Fae and rewritten history in flames.
He would keep Caelum imprisoned in that dream world forever if he had his way.
Even if he wasn’t actively hurting anyone now… that still didn’t make him good.
Her thoughts turned to the portrait in the ancient text, the one of the High Fae queen with her brilliant light magic.
She had recently take to looking at it the dark hour of the night.
Caelum’s face, beautiful and sorrowful in her dreams. Replaying in her head the night he had told her she was his salvation. That he had waited for her.
They had given everything. Caelum’s people.
Their lives, their history. Their name. To protect the balance.
To protect the magic of the world. She owed it to them.
She owed it to Caelum. To finish what the histories had tried to erase.
Thalia reached her classroom, pausing with her hand on the door.
Her stomach fluttered, she knew what she had to do, and that put her and Vaelith on opposite sides.
This wasn’t just about one healer’s ambition anymore.
This was about truth. About justice. About a man stolen from time and memory, still fighting in the dark.
She squared her shoulders and stepped into the room.
Whatever it took… she would see it through
Weeks had passed. Weeks of hushed meetings, of scrolls unrolled in dim corners, of maps spread across dormitory beds and quickly shoved under blankets when footsteps approached.
Weeks of running fingers over ancient borders and faded ink, of whispering names long buried, of matching old fae rhymes to barely legible topographical sketches.
And still, they had found nothing. The Forgotten Forest remained true to its name.
The dining hall buzzed around them with the usual end-of-day energy.
Apprentices laughed and gossiped, the warm smells of roasted root vegetables and spiced bread wafting through the air.
At the corner table by the stained-glass window, Thalia and her friends sat in a quiet huddle, heads bent over a heavily creased map.
“This part right here,” Marand said, pointing to a worn stretch near the northern border, “it still doesn’t make sense. Every version we’ve looked at lists this area as either inhabitable terrain or territory unclaimed.”
“That’s just a fancy way of saying no one wants to live there because something’s off about it,” Cellen replied, stabbing a boiled carrot with more enthusiasm than necessary. “You know, like a haunted bog. Or somewhere infested by giant spiders.”
Thalia smirked faintly but didn’t look up. “We’ve been over this section a dozen times.”
“Well, forgive me if I don’t trust a three-hundred-year-old map we smuggled in and out of a forbidden archive twice now.” Nyla sighed, dragging her spoon through her stew. “Honestly, we’re lucky we didn’t all end up scrubbing chamber pots for a month.”
Cellen straightened in his seat. “I’ll have you know I was remarkably close to being labelled mentally deficient by Priestess Arissa. Her exact words were: 'If I catch you creeping around one more time, Apprentice Cellen, I will personally recommend a full mind assessment to the High Priestess.'”
Marand snorted into her tea.
“Barely got out of there in time,” he added, grinning. “She has surprisingly good hearing for someone with so little joy left in her soul.”
Thalia let out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She tapped the corner of the map, frowning. “We can’t risk going back in. Not again.”
“No,” Nyla agreed, leaning back. “Even you couldn’t flirt your way out of that for a third time, Cellen.”
“I resent that,” he said. “I could absolutely flirt my way out of anything. I just choose not to for the sake of decorum.”
“Of course,” Marand said dryly, rolling her eyes.
Thalia stared at the map. The light shining through the coloured glass made the edges flicker, like the parchment itself was dancing just out of reach.
The place where moonlight weeps. A forest waits in shadowed sleep.
But where? It felt so close. Like a memory just out of reach.
She exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers to her temple.
Her mind was tired. Her heart was tired.
They were running out of options, and they still hadn’t found it.
Master Elric’s voice cut through their circle like a cold wind .
“Ah! My favourite group of troublemakers.”
They all jumped slightly as the familiar, warm voice landed beside their table. He stood tall as ever, the edges of his robes fluttering as he pulled up a spare chair, placing his tea flask on the table with a clink.
“Don’t stop conspiring on my account,” he grinned, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. “Although I do hope whatever secret society you’ve formed involves regular tea breaks and fewer illicit archive thefts.”
Cellen choked on his stew.
“Relax,” Elric said, laughing. “You think I don’t know when my best apprentices are up to something?” “ Or are you really attempting to court Priestess Allissa?” he smirked at Cellen.
They all shared quick glances, unsure of what to say.
“But that’s not why I came,” Elric continued, waving a hand.
“I have something rather exciting for you. A new patient arrived at the hospital wing this morning, exceedingly rare case. Extremely unusual ailment, completely confounding even our senior healers. I’d like you four to join me in the morning as part of the observation team. ”
Nyla sat up straighter. “Truly?”
Elric nodded. “Truly. I had it approved, you’re to skip your morning classes and report directly to me in the hospital wing. 8:30 sharp. You’ll get first-hand exposure to diagnosing a complicated magical affliction. Quite the opportunity.”
Thalia’s pulse picked up with excitement, the fog of their fruitless map-search lifting momentarily.
“What sort of affliction?” Marand asked, already reaching for her notebook.
“We’re not certain,” Elric admitted, voice lowered just slightly. “It’s some kind of reaction to long-term magical residue. The patient is stable but exhibits powerful bursts of uncontrolled elemental energy. The kind that tears through walls if not properly suppressed.”