Page 9 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)

B reakfast was a quiet affair. The usual warmth of the morning meal felt dampened by the weight of goodbyes.

Goldora had barely spoken, her eyes suspiciously glassy as she fussed over Thalia’s plate, making sure she ate enough.

Rodric, usually one to fill the room with laughter, made only a few half-hearted jokes, none of which held their usual mirth.

Thalia ate, though the food sat heavily in her stomach.

She wanted to tell her mother not to worry, to reassure her father that she’d be fine, but the words stuck in her throat.

She had dreamt of this moment, of leaving for something bigger, but now that it was here, it felt more bittersweet than she had imagined.

The walk to the village square was quiet. Goldora sniffled occasionally, dabbing at her eyes, while Rodric walked beside them, his large hand resting comfortingly on her shoulder. As they neared the meeting point, excitement began to bubble beneath her skin. She was going. Really going.

The convoy was already gathered when they arrived. Several carriages were lined up, along with a small unit of armed guards and a few riders on horseback. The crowd milled about, families saying their last goodbyes.

Goldora turned to her, cupping her face with both hands, her fingers cool against Thalia’s skin. “Be safe, my love,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Eat well. Sleep properly. And if you ever need anything—”

“I know, Mother,” Thalia interrupted gently, placing her hands over her mother’s. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Goldora swallowed hard, nodding, though she didn’t look convinced.

Rodric pulled her into a crushing hug, lifting her slightly off the ground. “We’re so proud of you, Thalia,” he murmured into her hair. “Go show those city folks what a proper healer looks like.”

Thalia laughed, though it came out wobbly. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

As they pulled apart, she caught sight of Lina saying her goodbyes to her own parents, her mother dabbing at her eyes much like Goldora. A guard approached, collecting both their trunks with ease before hoisting them onto one of the supply wagons.

Her gaze drifted past the bustling crowd and landed on Vaelith.

He was astride a sleek, midnight-coloured horse, sitting with an effortless grace that seemed almost unnatural.

The sun gleamed off the silver detailing on his dark riding attire, highlighting the contrast between his pale complexion and the sharp, angular cut of his features.

But it was his hair that stood out the most, pure white, like freshly fallen snow, shimmering under the morning light.

It should have made him look aged, yet there was nothing old about him. If anything, it only added to his otherworldly presence.

She thought back to their dance the night before, the way the golden festival lights had reflected in his eyes. Did he dance with Lina too, after I left? The thought was fleeting, but it unsettled her more than she liked.

Why, she wondered, did she feel this strange pull toward him? It was ridiculous. He barely acknowledged her now, his focus entirely elsewhere. She shook her head at herself as she climbed into the carriage, telling herself she was being foolish.

Inside, three other passengers from neighbouring villages were already seated. They looked to her and Lina as they entered, nodding politely in greeting.

Just as the driver called for final boarding, a movement caught her eye—and she immediately wished she hadn’t looked.

Marcus.

He was weaving through the crowd, clearly searching for her. She inwardly cringed, cursing her bad luck. If he found her now, he’d insist on some overly dramatic farewell, maybe even try to push his ridiculous proposition on her again.

As though sensing her distress, Vaelith suddenly spoke, his voice carrying effortlessly over the crowd. “Move out.”

The order was firm, allowing no room for delay.

The driver obeyed at once, and with a lurch, the carriage began to roll forward.

Thalia exhaled, slumping slightly against her seat as Marcus was left behind in the dust. She allowed herself a small, silent thank you to Vaelith.

Whether or not he’d done it deliberately, she was grateful, nonetheless.

The carriage rolled away from the village, a strange feeling settled over Thalia, not excitement, not sadness, but an anxious sort of awareness. Two whole days in close quarters with strangers. She wasn’t terrible at conversation, but she certainly wasn’t the type to carry it either.

Lina let out a wistful sigh beside her, leaning slightly toward the window as she watched the village shrink into the distance. “Did you see Marcus just before we left?” she murmured dreamily. “Such a shame. He just missed us.”

Thalia barely managed to keep from groaning. Instead, she plastered on a neutral expression and hummed noncommittally.

Lina turned to her, eyes sparkling. “He’s so handsome, isn’t he? You are so lucky he is smitten by you ”

If only he’d focus his attention elsewhere. “Mm.”

Luckily, the other passengers had caught wind of their conversation, drawing their attention away from Marcus before Lina could press further.

Across from her sat a striking young woman with warm, deep bronze skin and long, gleaming black hair woven into an elegant plait over one shoulder. Her high cheekbones and dark, thoughtful eyes gave her a regal air, but her soft smile was friendly.

“I take it Marcus is a… suitor of yours?” she asked, amusement laced in her voice.

Thalia nearly choked. “No.” She waved a frantic hand as if physically dispelling the notion. “Not at all. My mother, well, she likes him. Too much if you ask me.”

Beside the dark haired woman sat another girl, her light brown hair almost blonde in the morning sun, pulled into a practical bun.

Her features were pleasant, if a little severe, and her tone was brisk but not unkind.

“Mothers do that,” she remarked, smoothing a crease in her travel skirt.

“Mine would shove me at every decent nobleman in my region if she had the chance.”

The last of the passengers, a young man with tousled copper hair and a dusting of freckles across his nose, let out a low whistle. “Sounds exhausting.” His hazel eyes twinkled mischievously. “Makes me grateful I have no noble blood to worry about. Just me, my fishing village, and the sea.”

Thalia found herself smiling despite her nerves. “Fishing village?”

He grinned. “Sure. Born and raised in a little port town by the coast. Name’s Callan, by the way.”

The dark haired woman nodded. “I’m Nyla.”

The fair haired girl glanced at them before adding, “Riona.”

Lina introduced herself, and soon, Thalia followed, her initial tension easing just slightly. They fell into easy conversation, each of them sharing bits and pieces of their homes.

Nyla spoke of vast golden fields stretching for miles, her home a town nestled on the border between fae and the dead lands, where magic thrived.

Riona described a chilly northern village where the winters were long, and the people even tougher. “But,” she added with a smirk, “our markets sell the finest wool cloaks. You won’t find better anywhere else.”

Callan, unsurprisingly, spun tales of his seaside home, of the rolling waves, endless salty breeze, and the early mornings spent pulling in the catch of the day. “You’d think I’d hate fish by now,” he joked, “but honestly? Still love it.”

As the carriage trundled along, Thalia relaxed more, listening intently, occasionally adding in a detail of her own life. It wasn’t as awkward as she had feared.

The scenery shifted as they travelled. The well worn dirt road wound through endless meadows of swaying wildflowers, their colours vibrant under the sun.

Birds flitted overhead, their songs weaving into the steady rhythm of the carriage wheels against the path.

Occasionally, they passed clusters of trees, their emerald leaves casting dappled shadows over the road.

In the distance, rolling hills with a light dusting of early snow.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting the sky in hues of soft pink and amber, the carriage finally slowed near the outskirts of a quiet village.

A small temple stood in the distance, its pale stone bathed in the fading light, surrounded by a grove of tall, evergreen trees.

The air smelled of earth, incense, and distant woodsmoke from the village beyond.

The journey had been long but pleasant, filled with shared stories of their hometowns, families, and the years of rigorous study that had led them to this moment.

Thalia had particularly enjoyed swapping book recommendations with Nyla, who shared her love for history and old tales.

It was a strange but comforting thing, realizing she was among like minded people, perhaps, for the first time.

They had discussed their exam, what methods they had used to cleanse the water, how they had treated the patient.

Noone spoke of their magic assessment and Thalia hadn’t dared ask, though the thought burned in her mind ;

Had they all experienced the same strange, uncomfortable pulling sensation when Vaelith assessed their magic? Or was it just her ?

Several times throughout the journey, she had nearly worked up the courage to ask, but the words never made it past her lips. What if they had experienced nothing strange at all? What if they just thought she was odd, weak? No, it was best to keep it to herself.

Instead, she focused on their conversations, allowing herself to be distracted by the camaraderie forming between them.

“I swear, my mother was convinced I was going to set the house on fire when I first started practicing magic,” Callen said with an easy laugh. “She still flinches anytime I pick up a candle.”

Lina smirked. “She has a point. Didn’t you say you managed to explode an entire cauldron of healing salve?”

Callen pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “That was one time, and in my defence, I thought adding more willow bark would speed up the process.”

Nyla chuckled. “Let me guess, it did the opposite?”

“It did something,” he admitted, shaking his head. “The salve turned into some kind of rock hard paste that had to be chiselled off the floor. My instructor wasn’t pleased.”

Thalia couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well, at least you never knocked yourself unconscious in class.”

Callen arched a brow, his copper eyes gleaming with interest. “Oh, now you have to tell that story.”

Thalia groaned. “It wasn’t even that dramatic.

I was just—” she hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious, before sighing.

“I was practicing a focus technique that involved deep meditation. I got a little too into it and somehow lost my balance. Ended up smacking my head on the side of a wooden bench. I woke up with an awful headache and my instructor standing over me, looking very unimpressed.”

Callen snorted. “So what you’re saying is, if all else fails, you can take yourself out before an opponent even gets the chance?”

“Exactly,” Thalia deadpanned, making the others laugh.

They continued sharing stories, some humorous, some sentimental, It felt good to talk. To bond. It made the idea of leaving home a little less daunting.