Chapter 6 Whispers of Aoleria

A year after mom’s death, Milo and I slowly settle into Windmere and their complete weirdness. It was on my mom’s first death anniversary that my dreams started again, but this time they were even more vivid than usual. They shimmered with a strange, otherworldly clarity. Each night, as my body rested from the chaos of my waking life, my mind slipped into a realm that felt more like memory than fantasy—a place called Aeloria.

Aeloria was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The skies glowed with hues of lavender and gold, and the clouds drifted like silk ribbons across the horizon. Trees towered like cathedrals, their leaves iridescent and humming with quiet magic. Rivers flowed with liquid light, and the air itself sparkled with motes of energy that danced like fireflies.

But it was the people who captivated me most.

They weren’t human, not exactly. They were fairies—tall and slender, or short and sprightly, with wings that shimmered like stained glass and voices that rang like wind chimes. Their eyes held galaxies, and their laughter could heal wounds. They moved with grace, spoke in poetry, and lived in harmony with the land.

And I fit in perfectly.

In Aeloria, I wasn’t the anxious girl dodging hallway tormentors. I was one of them. Even my appearance, which had always felt a little too striking for the human world, was celebrated here. My fiery hair blazed like the setting sun, cascading in waves that caught the light and turned heads. My emerald green eyes, wide and expressive, mirrored the lush forests and glowing meadows of the realm. my porcelain skin, untouched by the harshness of reality, gleamed like moonlight on water.

Sure, I was short, only standing at five-foot-one—petite by human standards, but in Aeloria, I was considered perfectly proportioned for a forest sprite. Her hourglass figure, often a source of discomfort in the real world, was seen as a mark of divine balance, which fit perfectly with the water nymphs, a true reflection of nature’s symmetry.

The fairies, while confused why I was here, didn’t question it all that much. Some asked why, where, and how I had come to be there. Of course, I can’t have a dream where someone didn’t judge me. But the kind ones called her “Emberleaf,” a name that felt like home. She lived in the most elegant treehouse woven from living vines and blossoms, perched high above a glimmering glade. Her bed was made of petal-soft moss, and her windows opened to the songs of birds with feathers like sapphires.

Each morning in Aeloria, I would rise with the sun and join the others in rituals of light and laughter. They danced barefoot through fields of singing flowers, their wings trailing sparkles in the air. They painted the skies with their thoughts, sculpted dreams from clouds, and whispered secrets to the stars.

I had a special gift in this world—she could shape fire with her hands. Not the destructive kind, but a warm, golden flame that responded to emotion. When she was joyful, it flickered playfully. When she was sad, it curled protectively around her. The other fairies admired her control, her connection to the elemental heart of Aeloria.

One day, as I wandered through the Crystal Grove—a forest of trees with trunks like quartz and leaves that chimed in the breeze—she met a fairy named Zia. She was tall and luminous, with silver-blue wings and eyes like storm clouds. She watched me with curiosity, then smiled.

“You’re not from here,” she said, not accusing, just observing.

I nodded. “Not originally.”

“But you belong,” she said simply.

That sentence stayed with her. The question of whether I belonged here flashed through my mind.

In Aeloria, I wasn’t running. I wasn’t hiding. I was seen, understood, and cherished.

But every morning, I woke up.

Back in my bed. Back in my world. Back in the noise and the tension and the escape.

Still, the dream lingered.

I began to sketch the places I saw—meadows of light, towers of crystal, creatures with wings like stained glass. I wrote down the names, the rituals, the songs. My notebook became a portal, a bridge between worlds. A talisman of a place I wished I could stay in my awake hours as well as whilst I am asleep.

“What are you doing, princess?” Talon asks as his shadow blocks the sun that was streaming through the trees.

“Nothing,” I mutter back as I continue to draw the world that I desperately wanted to get back to.

“Hey, Sugar Plum, good to see you,” Narrin says as he sits beside me, looking over my shoulder.

One second, I was drawing Aoleria, the next, my book was ripped from my hands and silently passed around the guys that were surrounding me.

“What?”

“How?”

“Do you know what this means?”

“Oh shit, I need to let the parents know.”

Everything shifted. In an instant, I was happy, filled with anticipation to get back to the world that I had to leave behind in my waking hours, only for these boys to ruin everything again.

“When did you go to this place?” Talon growls

“What are you talking, give me back my notebook you baboon” I growl as I jump to my feet and snatch the book back out of Talon’s hands.

“Thanks for ruining what makes me happy. Let’s, like, never do this again, ok, awesome,” I mutter as I turn and storm away with

“Well, things are getting interesting,” Narrin mutters as he pushes himself into a standing position.

“That is certainly one word for it,” Yuel mutters as he stares after Mo

“The breach has been happening for over two weeks. Clearly, it was Mo.” Zeke adds as he watches the little fairy storm away from them.

“We need to alert the parents; they have been searching for the cause. If Mo can find a way in, it means that we may be able to travel back,” Talon mutters.

The rest of the day was slow. I spent the rest of the time ignoring the guys and trying to avoid any and all interaction with them, counting the minutes until I could be free from them and this crummy world.

As the bell rings, signalling the end of the day, I quickly pack up my things and take off out of the school as if it were on fire. I watch as the guys pick up their pace, trying to catch up, but I had a head start, and not one that I am willing to waste. I had barely shut the door before Milo was climbing in and doing the same. I start the car and escape home.

I hadn’t escaped. Not yet. But I found something stronger than flight.

I found a world where I belonged—and I couldn’t wait to get back.