Page 65 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)

T halia woke with a jolt, her heart still pounding from the remnants of a dream she couldn’t quite grasp. Her mother stood over her, face drawn with worry, one hand gently shaking her shoulder.

“Thalia, you have to go. Now,” Goldora whispered urgently.

Thalia blinked into the morning light, already streaming through the curtains. “What? What’s happened?”

Goldora didn’t answer, just tugged at her hand until Thalia was up and stumbling out of bed. Tansy darted from under the blankets with a yowl, leaping to the floor and disappearing under the dresser.

“Vaelith’s here,” her mother said quietly. “He’s in the village.”

That snapped Thalia fully awake. She grabbed her satchel, still packed from the journey, and hurried down the stairs two at a time.

Downstairs, the cottage was filled with tension. Rodric stood by the hearth, fully dressed and armed. But it was the man beside him who made Thalia freeze.

Marcus.

He hadn’t changed much since that night, cheeks still a little too flushed, hair too neat, as though he was always trying too hard.

She hadn’t seen him since the celebration before she left for Vertrose, when he’d taken her hand during the village dance and begun a rambling, blushing attempt at a proposal.

He’d never gotten the words out, not before Vaelith had appeared from the shadows and stolen the moment, pulling her away into the night.

She’d been relieved at the time. Rescued.

Now, Marcus didn’t look like the lovestruck male she remembered. His expression was tight, serious, and he held a blade at his side like he knew how to use it. Three other males stood with him, villagers, armed and tense.

Rodric turned to her. “We’ll hold him off,” he said without preamble. “Create a distraction, give you time to reach the forest.”

Thalia’s blood ran cold. “No, you don’t understand, he’s—he’s dangerous.”

Her father’s gaze was steady. “We know, love. We also know what’s at stake.”

“We have known for a long time what he is Thalia,” Marcus said with an air of authority.

"We have been part of the rebellion far longer than you will ever know,” Her head swam at his words, Marcus?

Insufferable self-obsessed, Marcus was part of the rebellion.

She opened her mouth to ask him all of the questions that were now racing through her mind but was cut off as Cellen stepped forward from where he’d been standing near the window, arms crossed, eyes dark. “I’m staying too.”

“What?” Thalia spun to face him.

“I’ll go with them. Someone has to keep him busy, He killed my mate” his voice caught, “and I want him to look me in the eyes when we make him pay for it.”

“Cellen, please—”

He shook his head, stepping forward to hug her tightly. “You go find your forest. Find the answers. Find a way to bring back our Prince.”

Our prince ... the words shook her to the core. They were lesser fae, he was their high prince she had never quite realised it before.

Thalia pressed her forehead to his chest, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I’m far too charming for death,” he whispered, voice breaking with something more than humour. “Now go.”

Nyla hugged him fiercely, whispering a promise to come back for him. Goldora pressed a pack into Thalia’s arms, food, water, herbs, and kissed her daughter’s forehead. Rodric opened the back door.

The morning light was pale, and beyond the garden wall, the sound of hooves echoed faintly in the distance.

She followed her father and Nyla into the woods, away from the cottage she’d grown up in, toward the forest. The trees grew denser as they moved deeper along it edge line, she could see within the branches laced overhead like fingers clasping tightly together, blotting out much of the light.

She could feel a slight hum of magic emanating from it.

Thalia walked slightly ahead of Nyla and her father, tension strumming low in her chest. Every step felt heavier, more electric.

She scanned the undergrowth, the gnarled roots, the moss-stained rocks.

Nothing looked unfamiliar, but nothing looked quite right either.

“Are you sure it’s here?” Nyla asked, glancing around the woods with a cautious eye.

“We are close, I think, it’s hard to tell in the day without being able to see the stars I have to guess,” Thalia murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Rodric frowned. “It’s well hidden, lass. If there’s magic at work, we may not even realise and could have been turned around several times already and simply not remember.”

Thalia turned her head towards the sky then back down to the map, her heart beating faster. She took a few more step, then stopped.

There, half-obscured between two towering trees, something shimmered in the sky.

Not fully visibly, but not quite concealed either.

The brightest star in reticulum’s constellation was there.

She could feel it fully then, the subtle warp in the air, the residue of magic used to hide this place.

A path, woven into the very threads of the land itself, shimmered just beyond reach.

It tugged at her senses and twisted them, urging her to turn back, to forget why she’d come at all.

Her steps faltered under the weight of it, mind fogging with doubt, but she gritted her teeth and pushed forward.

She clung to her purpose, to Caelum’s face in her memory, to Marand’s laugh echoing in her chest. The magic pressed harder, trying to smother her will, but she refused to let it win.

She could feel her own magic rising within her.

She let it grow, let it surge through her limbs like wildfire, willing it to push back against the enchantment pressing in on her.

It resisted, tightened around her mind, but her magic surged harder, brighter, until the haze in her mind thinned.

The air cleared, the pull to turn back vanishing like smoke in the wind. She took a breath, solid and real

Her breath caught in her throat. “There,” she said, pointing. “Do you feel it?”

Rodric squinted, then shook his head. “Feel what?”

“There’s nothing there,” Nyla added gently, eyes full of concern. “We should go Thalia, there’s nothing here”

“No” Thalia said, her voice full of determination.

Without thinking, she reached back, grabbed both Nyla and Rodric’s hands, and stepped forward.

The moment her foot crossed the tree line, the air stilled. Rodrick and Nyla glanced around as though in a haze, “What?” “Where are we?”

Thalia looked back at them, “We are in the forest?”

Nyla shook her head, “How?” “The last thing I remember was ... was ...” “I’m not sure what I remember"

“It’s the enchantment “Thalia explained, “I could feel it wrapping it my mind, I was able to break its hold on me, “

Nyla shook her head a few more times. “You did it Thalia” Rodrick said his voice full of disbelief.

She walked a few steps looking around, she knew this forest. She recognised these trees, this path, she had run it in her dream so many times. Her hear quickened as she began walking forward.

“Thalia…” Rodric murmured behind her, but she didn’t stop.

She walked faster. Then faster still. The path underfoot twisted through thick roots and winding trunks, but it never lost its clarity to her . Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, breath coming quicker. She knew this path.

Her feet moved without needing to think, carrying her between mossy stones she’d passed before. A slanted tree with bark peeled in a spiral, a fork in the path where two thornbushes leaned toward each other like lovers. She ran now, her boots skimming over the earth.

“Thal, wait where are you going?” Nyla cried from behind her.

“This way,” she shouted, breathless. “There should be a clearing, this is where I always find him!” Her boots ponded the bath in an unforgiveable speed. She rounded the final bend ready to find Caelum waiting for her.

Thalia skidded to a halt, stunned into silence. Nyla and Rodric stopped behind her, both staring in wide-eyed at the scene before them.

There, nestled in the curve of ancient trees and crumbling stone, stood the ruins of a temple.

Worn down by time, the once-proud structure was now open to the elements, its great domed roof collapsed in parts, its carved pillars cracked and leaning.

Ivy climbed its bones, and golden moss spread like lace over the floor.

At its heart, untouched by vine or weather, sat a raised stone altar.

Resting atop the altar, carved with ancient markings that pulsed with faint light, was a sealed sarcophagus.

Thalia’s breath caught, a soundless exhale of disbelief.

She took a single step forward; her gaze locked on the stone lid.

The air in the ruined temple was thick with stillness, like the breath of time itself was holding steady.

Thalia stepped closer to the stone sarcophagus at the centre of the temple, her boots crunching over broken tiles and moss-covered stone.

The markings etched into the stone curled in ancient script she didn’t recognise, but something in her bones did.

Her heart beat erratically as she reached out and ran her fingers along the edge, feeling the warmth of magic pulsing faintly beneath her palm.

Nyla came up beside her, eyes wide, staring down at the sealed sarcophagus. “What is this place?” she breathed, voice hushed.

Thalia didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, memories, and half-formed feelings.

The path they’d just ran had been burned into her memory from her dreams. Every tree, every twist, every rise and dip in the earth had been exactly as she remembered.

This was supposed to be the clearing where Caelum waited for her.

But it wasn’t. It was a temple. A shattered, ancient place cloaked in power and silence, with the stone sarcophagus resting like a secret that had waited centuries to be found.