Chapter 66 The Realms Beneath Her Eyes
I drifted.
Not through space, but through possibility.
The Flameborn Rift had cracked something inside me. My flame was stable—barely—but my mind? Untethered. I walked through alternate realities like dreams, each more vivid than the last. Each one whispered, This could’ve been you.
In one, Aeloria was ruled by Milo, crowned in shadow, his eyes colder than winter steel.
In another, my mother lived—but I had never been born. The world was brighter, but emptier.
In a third, the Hollow Crown sat on my own brow, and I spoke in prophecy, not flame.
I couldn’t tell which was real.
And I didn’t want to.
I don’t know how long I wandered. Time didn’t work correctly in the Rift. It folded in on itself like poorly written poetry. But eventually, I heard voices—familiar ones.
Talon’s voice was sharp and commanding. Yuel’s, dry and sarcastic. Narrin’s calm and tactical. Kael’s muttering spells under his breath like they were curse words.
They’d come for me.
Of course, they had.
I stood in a field of mirrors, each reflecting a different version of myself. Some crowned. Some broken. Some burning.
“She’s unravelling,” Yuel whispered.
“Thanks,” I said aloud. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Narrin stepped forward, holding a rune that pulsed with memory. “We must anchor her. Not with power. With memory.”
“Memory?” Kael asked. “You mean the thing we all repress?”
“Speak for yourself,” Yuel said. “I cherish my trauma.”
Thess arrived next, sword drawn, eyes scanning the mirrors. “If one of these versions tries to monologue, I’m stabbing it.”
“Please do,” I muttered. “Some of them are insufferable.”
And then he came.
Milo.
He didn’t use shadow.
He didn’t use magic.
He used truth.
“You’re Mo,” he said, stepping through the mirrors like they were fog. “You rewrote fate. You chose life. You chose me.”
I turned to him, my eyes flickering between timelines. “I could be more.”
“You already are,” he said. “But you’re not alone.”
He reached out.
I hesitated.
Then took his hand.
The Rift pulsed.
The mirrors shattered.
And I collapsed into his arms, flame dim but real.
“Thank you, baby brother.” I whisper
“You're welcome, sister,” Milo responds equally as quietly.
The Watch surrounded me as the storm paused. The Rift stilled. The veil softened.
I was back.
Mostly.
Thess knelt beside me. “You good?”
“Define good,” I said.
“Not possessed. Not glowing with evil. Not monologuing.”
“Then yes,” I said. “I’m good.”
Kael handed me a flask. “Drink. It’s either healing elixir or very old wine. I forgot.”
I drank it. It was both.
Yuel sat cross-legged beside me. “So, what did we learn?”
“That I’m unstable,” I said.
“We knew that,” Zeke said, appearing from behind a mirror shard. “I’ve got data.”
“Of course you do,” I muttered.
Narrin looked at the shattered field. “The Rift is quiet. But not healed.”
Lira joined us, her hands glowing softly. “You’re still flickering.”
“I’m still me,” I said.
“Good,” she said. “We like you flickering.”
We returned to camp, where Gerald was chewing on a diplomatic scroll and Quacknor was pecking a ceremonial banner with righteous fury.
Ellira handed me a sealed envelope. “This arrived while you were… elsewhere.”
I opened it.
It was from the Queen and King of Aeloria.
And it was, predictably, judgmental.
To the Flameborn Watch, and most notably, Mo of the Flickering Flame,
We have received troubling reports regarding your recent activities, which involve unstable rifts, unauthorized reality manipulation, and the summoning of entities described as “conceptual consequences.”
While we appreciate your enthusiasm for rewriting fate, we must remind you that Aeloria is a realm of order, grace, and aesthetically pleasing prophecy. Your actions have caused significant disruption to our skies, our gardens, and our royal sleep schedule.
We request—firmly but politely—that you refrain from further existential experimentation.
Also, Gerald is banned from the palace. Again.
Yours in regal concern, The Queen & King of Aeloria
I read it aloud.
Thess snorted. “Aesthetically pleasing prophecy? What does that even mean?”
Kael shrugged. “Probably rhymes.”
Yuel rolled her eyes. “They once banned clouds because they weren’t symmetrical.”
Zeke pulled out a chart. “They also banned time travel on Tuesdays.”
Narrin sighed. “We’ll need to respond.”
“I’ll send them a mirror shard,” I said. “Let them see what could’ve been.”
That night, I sat alone by the silver tree.
The Rift was sealed as well as it was going to get at present.
The storm had paused.
But the Hollow Crown still watched.
I could feel it.
Not in the sky.
Not in the ground.
In me.
It wasn’t gone.
It was waiting.
Milo joined me, silent.
“You saw it too,” I said.
He nodded. “It’s not done.”
“I don’t know what it wants.”
“It wants silence,” he said. “And you’re too loud.”
I smiled faintly. “Good.”
He took my hand.
And we watched the stars shift.
“Do you think Mom is one of those stars looking down on us?” Milo asks in the otherwise still night
“I would like to think so. I wish I knew who killed her. I wish she was here helping us. I wish that things could have been different. In the mirrors, I saw things. I saw horrible things as well as things that weren’t. I want to believe that we are doing the right thing, but I am scared. I sometimes think that we made the wrong choice. I should have left you in the human realm safe and carefree.” I mutter to the stars
“Do you regret it then?” Milo asks as his hand squeezes mine
“No! I don’t regret it. Because you are all that I have left and I need you with me,” I reply.
“Then I guess, like you say, we continue to choose and do the best that we can,” Milo says quietly.
“Yeah, our best is the only option,” I reply quietly.