Chapter 13: Milo's Vigil

I had always been the steady one.

While Mo darted through life like a flame—bright, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore—he was the anchor. The one who waited, watched, and protected when necessary. While he was younger, he had a steady energy, one that was meant to protect.

I was the quiet constant in her chaos.

But lately, something had changed.

Mo was sleeping more. Not just the usual teenage exhaustion, but something deeper. She drifted off mid-conversation, curled up in corners, vanished into dreams with a kind of urgency that unsettled him. And when she woke, she was distant—eyed, unfocused, words half-formed, like she was still somewhere else.

I watched her now, curled on the couch in their tiny house, her fiery hair spilling over the pillow, her breathing slow and steady. As soon as we come home after school, she would lie on the couch or go straight to bed.

I sat nearby, flipping through a book he wasn’t reading, glancing at her every few seconds.

I didn’t understand what was happening.

But he felt it.

A pull. A pressure. A need to protect her—not just from the world, but from whatever world she was slipping into.

I remembered the first time he saw her flame.

They were no more than two and six. Mom was yelling, telling her that it was dangerous and not something to show people. Mo was crying, eyes red, fists clenched. She was scared, shaking. He’d toddled over to her and hugged her, the hug back was natural, she patted his back, trying to calm him as he too was crying. But mom was angry, she made Mo promise to never do it again, and especially not in front of people, her hands had trembled—and a flicker of light danced across her fingertips.

I stared, stunned, while she cried and tried to hide it.

Her flame never hurt me; it felt like a nice, warm hug, a comfort that made you long for what you had forgotten.

After that night, he never remembered seeing it again. Mom would move from town to town every year or two, always saying it was an adventure, but really, it was hard for Mo to leave the few friends she did have. She had to give up so much.  When mom died, Mo just reacted. She did what she was told, and that was it.

But now, the flame was growing. While she slept, the flame would race over her body like it was a living being.

Mo stirred, murmuring something in her sleep. Milo leaned closer, heart thudding.

“Emberleaf,” she whispered.

I froze.

That wasn’t her name.

I sat back slowly, pulse quickening. She was dreaming of somewhere else. Somewhere real.

I always knew she was different. But now, he feared she was slipping away. She was the last thing in this world that genuinely cared about him.

I stood and walked to the window, staring out at the night and twinkling stars. The world outside felt too ordinary, too small for what was happening. I thought of all the times I waited for her—outside school, outside the house, outside detention halls and hospital rooms. I always been the one who stayed.

But what if she didn’t come back?

When she woke, hours later, her eyes were glassy.

“You okay?” I asked gently.

She nodded. “Just tired.”

“You’ve been tired a lot.”

She looked away. “It’s nothing.”

“Mo,” I said, voice firmer now. “It’s not nothing.”

She hesitated. Then, quietly: “I go somewhere when I sleep. Aeloria.”

I blinked. “Aeloria?”

“It’s… another world. I belong there.”

I didn’t laugh. I didn’t question. I just listened.

She told him about how beautiful the place was and how right she felt being there. She told him that in Aeloria, she felt like she could be herself. Her voice was soft but steady, like she’d rehearsed it in her mind a hundred times. And maybe she had.

When she finished, she looked at me, vulnerable and fierce.

“I have to go back,” she said. “No, I want to go back.”

I swallowed. “And what happens here?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I stood, pacing. “Mo, I get it. You’re meant for something big. But I’m scared. You’re sleeping more and more. What if one day you don’t wake up?”

She looked at him, eyes soft. “Then you’ll have to trust me.”

I stopped. “I do. That’s the problem.”

She smiled faintly. “You’ve always protected me.”

“Always will.”

She reached out, took his hand. “Then let me be, I love it there. Apart from you, there is nothing here I want to stay for.”

I nodded slowly. I understand that she has found her place, but I don’t want to lose my sister, and while she might be happy there. I am not happy when she is gone. I didn’t know if I could do what she was asking of me, but I knew that if I didn’t at least watch over her, then something worse could happen. Maybe next time she wouldn’t wake up at all.

“I’ll keep watch,” I said. “While you dream.”

And so I did.

Night after night, I sat beside her, guarding her body while her spirit crossed into Aeloria. I didn’t understand the magic. But I understood Mo. And that was enough.

I learned to read her breathing, the way her fingers twitched when she was deep in the dream. I kept a notebook nearby, jotting down the names she murmured—Aine, Tharos, Lira. I didn’t know who they were, but I knew they mattered.

Sometimes she cried in her sleep. Sometimes she smiled.

Once, she screamed.

I held her hand until she calmed.

I began researching mythology, lucid dreaming, and alternate realities. I found nothing that matched her description. But I kept looking. I needed to feel useful. Needed to believe I could help.

She hasn’t woken for close to two weeks now. I met Aine, she was an aunt, she said. She told me that Mo was just sick and that she would get better, but she couldn’t tell me when that was going to happen, and she couldn’t tell me when she would wake from this world.

“Milo,” she whispered. “The veil is breaking.”

I didn’t ask what that meant. But I knew that the shadow that was following her wasn’t good and that these trials could make it so she could never come home.

It was later that night, after learning that she was on the last trial and that the Hollowborn were old, that she had to stand against them.

It was early morning when Aine showed. She checked on Mo and then sat with me on the couch.

“How is Mo? She has been talking in her sleep,” I mutter as I continue to stare at Aine.

“She ….” Aine says, but stops

“Mo is in Aeloria. What is she? And will she survive these trials? When is she coming home?” I growl