Page 67 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)
Her stomach twisted. She put her hand up to stop him “I remember”
“You asked me what was wrong with your magic. You were confused, afraid it was broken, afraid you were broken. Do you remember what I said?”
She shook her head violently. “Stop—”
“I said it wasn’t wrong. That it was curious . That it felt like mine .”
“Stop talking in riddles,” she snapped, but a thread of fear had already rooted in her spine. Deep down, something, some instinct, was bracing for what was coming.
Vaelith stepped closer, shadows coiling at his back. “It felt like mine… because it is .”
“No.” Her voice was a whisper now. “No, no, no,”
“You are Dragon Fae, Thalia.”
Her knees nearly buckled.
“You were born of the same ancient blood that flows through me,” he continued, his voice rough but steady.
“Your magic, white, brilliant, celestial light, it’s the twin to my shadows.
Opposites. Equals. And you—” he gestured to the air between them, “you were chosen .
Used by them “he spat in Rodric’s direction “
Only a dragon could enter the forest. Only a dragon can break the curse.”
“Stop,” she gasped, pressing her hands to her ears.
“You felt it,” he said. “When the veil parted. When the forest let you in . That wasn’t chance. That was truth . That was birthright .”
“I’m not like you,” she hissed, stumbling back. “I can’t be.”
But even as she said it, memories flared in her mind, her power surging without warning, the light that blasted Vaelith back in his own rooms, the way the forest seemed to know her…
She turned to her father, pleading for him to tell her it wasn’t true.
Rodric’s expression was tight, panicked. “You don’t have to listen to this,” he said quickly. “He’s twisting it. You’re you . That’s all that matters.”
“She more than you have ever realised or bargained for she’s, my ma...”
Rodrick swung his sword at Vaelith’s back piercing his shoulder.
“ No! ” she screamed.
But it was too late. Rodric surged forward, again sword raised high, a wave of blinding blue magic pulsed outward from him and slammed into Vaelith like a thunderclap.
Vaelith was thrown back, crashing against the base of the ruined sarcophagus. Dust rained down from the shattered stone.
Thalia stood frozen, mouth parted, unable to process what she had just seen.
Rodric’s eyes were wide. His chest heaved. The sword trembled in his hands.
“Thal” Nyla whispered dragging her away from both males, “that wasn’t lesser magic …”
“No,” Thalia breathed.
Shadows and blue light crashed through the clearing, bursting across ancient stone and splintering the vines that curled around the temple.
Vaelith was on his feet in an instant, his roar echoing off the trees, wings bursting forth from his back in a flare of shadow and gold.
Thalia stared at him, rooted to the ground, her breath caught in her throat.
His wings were massive, impossibly vast, forged from darkness threaded with molten veins of gold that shimmered like living flames around the edges.
They moved with terrifying grace, unfurling into the sky like a god’s wrath made flesh.
Awe surged in her chest, sharp and electric.
A chill crawling over her skin as the truth settled deep in her bones.
He wasn’t just powerful; he was beautiful and monstrous.
“HOW?” he bellowed, charging at Rodric like a storm given flesh.
Rodric met him head-on, his sword clashing with a snarl of blackened magic. “You were always arrogant, Vaelith. Always too blind to see what was right in front of you.”
Thalia staggered backward, heart hammering in her chest as the air around them shimmered with power.
Vaelith’s shadows danced and twisted like living serpents, striking toward Rodric, who parried with a surge after surge of bright blue energy, magic she had never seen him wield. It was fast, brutal, unrelenting.
Each strike of their battle sent shockwaves through the clearing.
Trees creaked and split, stones cracked, and the old temple walls groaned under the weight of colliding powers.
Rodric spun with the grace of a seasoned warrior; his strikes infused with something far older and more refined than any Thalia had ever seen.
“What is that?” Nyla gasped beside her, eyes wide.
“I don’t— I don’t know,” Thalia breathed, too stunned to look away.
Vaelith growled as Rodric’s blade grazed his side, burning through his shadows like fire through smoke. He leapt back, breath ragged, golden eyes blazing. He stared at Rodric for a long moment; his expression twisted in horror and disbelief.
“No,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “It can’t be. How did you escape the curse?”
Rodric only smiled, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. “The dragons didn’t curse everything. Some of us knew how to hide.”
Vaelith’s face contorted in fury, his voice rising with venom. “You’re one of them. One of the cursed. You were there that day, one of the generals of the High Fae!”
A gasp escaped Thalia’s lips. She turned to her father, eyes raking over him. Her stomach plummeted as she watched his form change.
He shimmered, the glamour unravelling before her eyes.
He grew taller, broader, regal. His skin glowed faintly with the radiance of magic.
His features sharpened into something impossibly ethereal, eyes glowing like distant stars.
He looked like he had stepped straight of the portraits she’d studied in dusty texts, a High Fae.
Thalia swayed on her feet. “What—what is happening?” she whispered. She searched the males face before her looking for any trace of the father she had known “Where did my father go?”
Nyla reached out, grabbing her arm. “Thalia… he’s High Fae.”
The words sent a tremor through her bones.
“No,” Thalia whispered. “That’s not possible—”
But her voice was drowned by a scream.
Vaelith lunged forward, powered by fury and shadow. Rodric barely had time to raise his sword when Vaelith struck, shadows coiling, Bright hot white fire blazing, before driving his sword through Rodric’s chest.
Time slowed.
Rodric staggered. The blue light in his hands flickered, then went out.
“NO!” Thalia screamed, her voice breaking, her knees giving way as her father collapsed to the earth.
Thalia screamed as her magic surged, blinding white light erupting from her chest and crashing into Vaelith like a tidal wave of raw power.
He was thrown back, slamming against the moss-covered wall of the ruined temple, shadows writhing around him like smoke trying to rebuild itself.
“STAY AWAY FROM HIM!” she shrieked, stumbling over the cracked stone floor, barely registering the heat radiating from her own skin.
She dropped to her knees beside her father, no, not her father. The male who had raised her, protected her, laughed with her, bandaged her scraped knees and told her stories by firelight. A High Fae general. A warrior.
He was bleeding from his chest, the golden ichor of the High Fae pooling beneath him. Yet he still smiled when he looked up at her. Weakly, he reached up and cupped her face with trembling fingers.
“My darling daughter,” he rasped, voice rough and fading, “I love you. I always have. From the moment we found you. You… were a gift.”
Tears spilled down Thalia’s cheeks as she shook her head, trying to make sense of everything unravelling around her. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why—why hide it all?”
He exhaled a shaky breath, his thumb brushing a tear from her face.
“The curse… it bound us in more ways than one. It took our names, our power, our truth. Speaking of it was like drowning.” His gaze drifted past her, toward the crumbling sky above.
“But you… you broke it. Somehow, you shattered the first chains. And now you must finish what you started.”
“I don’t understand,” Thalia cried, her voice barely a whisper. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing—”
“You do,” he said gently. “You’ve always known. Do not doubt yourself, you’re not alone.”
His breath hitched, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. “You must wake Caelum. Before Vaelith kills you and your friend. Before the others arrive.”
Thalia’s blood ran cold. “What others? The dragons—Vaelith’s the only one left. Everyone says they’re gone—”
Rodric coughed, blood bubbling at the corner of his lips. “No… they’re waiting. Biding their time. Rebuilding their strength. But Caelum… he can stop it. He’s the only one who can. But only with you.”
Her eyes blurred with tears. “How? How do I wake him?”
Rodric reached, his hand brushing the necklace at her throat, the one she’d worn since before she could remember. “The key is in the light… and the shadows. Yours and his. That necklace… it’s part of what seals him. You were always meant to be the one.”
Suddenly, a violent gust of frigid air ripped her backward, shadows coiling around her like ropes and yanking her away from him.
“No!” she screamed, thrashing as she was dragged across the stone. “No, stop, he’s dying!” “Let me go to him”
Rodric raised a trembling hand; his final smile filled with warmth and sorrow. “Go, Thalia. Be brave. Be the light.”
Vaelith stalked toward him, gold and black flickering across his form, eyes burning like twin suns.
“You die now, General,” he growled, voice low and lethal. “And this time, there will be no return.”
Thalia’s scream ripped from her chest as she threw her hand forward once more, magic bursting from her palm in a stream of blinding white light.
It struck Vaelith squarely in the chest, hurling him backward again, dust and broken stone scattering like ash. He groaned, an inhuman, guttural sound of rage and pain, staggered, shoulders trembling.
Quickly he righted himself, eyes molten gold, shadows spiralling from his fingertips, Wings spread wide like an angel of death. His were lips drawn back over his teeth in a snarl. He turned back toward Rodric with deadly purpose.
“NO!” Thalia sobbed, the word cracking in her throat as her legs buckled.
“Thalia!” Nyla’s voice rang out behind her, fierce and raw with urgency. “Wake him—WAKE CAELUM NOW!”
Through the haze of her tears, through the storm of pain and heartbreak ripping her apart, Thalia spun and sprinted to the sarcophagus.
Her hands scrambled across the ancient carvings, every breath a sob, every heartbeat a war drum.
She poured her magic into it watching as the runes, glowing faintly, humming in her bones, shifted beneath her fingers as if alive.
There in the very centre, was an oval hollow space.
The perfect size for the pendant on her necklace.
With trembling fingers, Thalia yanked it from her throat and pressed it into place.
Magic erupted from her like a star being born, blinding, furious, searing white light that scorched the air.
She screamed as it tore through her, a river of agony and power breaking free from its dam.
Her limbs shook violently. Her body convulsed with the force of it.
The runes on the sarcophagus flared with gold and white brilliance.
In the distance, through the storm of magic and chaos, she heard Vaelith roar again, pain, sorrow and anger etched into it.
Still magic poured from her in wave after wave. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed to the temple floor, panting, her skin slick with sweat, her vision swimming.
The light vanished. She blinked through the tears, the haze, and turned her head.
Vaelith was still as stone. On his knees. Wings, gleaming, golden, magnificent, unfurled behind him, trembling in the fading light.
She looked around to find standing before her, tall and radiant, a silhouette against the broken sky. Her vision blurred the feeling of exhaustion crashing over her.
A hand reached down gently lifting her with such ease. As she looked up into the face of the figure holding her, she was startled by the piercing blue eyes that met her own.
He was even more beautiful than in her dreams. Hair dark as midnight, glowing skin kissed by ancient power, the weight of a thousand lifetimes behind his gaze. His arms held her tightly against his chest, solid and warm, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.
“My goddess,” Caelum whispered.