Lysaria waited until the moon was high before she slipped from the castle. No guards, no escort, just her cloak wrapped tight and a satchel of supplies slung over her shoulder. The path to Everfall was forbidden, but the fairy princess had always questioned rules carved from fear.
And she wasn't afraid.
The Phantom had spoken to her. Not cursed, not screamed, not attacked. He had spoken. That alone was more humanity than the Council's legends allowed.
She followed a deer path that wound between silverleaf trees, their bark shimmering like starlight. The wind whispered through the branches, singing songs only the old ones knew. Every rustle seemed to beckon her deeper.
At the heart of the glade where they had first met, she stopped. A blanket of wildflowers lay underfoot, glowing faintly under the moonlight.
"I'm here," she said softly.
No answer.
But then, a flicker.
Not light. Not heat. But something.
She turned slowly.
Behind her, the air shimmered.
"You came back," came the voice.
"I said I would."
A beat of silence.
"Why?"
She stepped forward. "Because you're not the monster they say. And because no one deserves to be forgotten."
The forest held its breath.
Then, slowly, a figure emerged from the air a faint, translucent shimmer that grew denser, until she could make out his shape.
He was beautiful in a tragic way. Unkempt hair, skin that shimmered slightly like water disturbed, and eyes that glowed faintly with sadness. His body seemed half-there, like a mirage held together by memory.
"You're not afraid of me?" he asked.
"No," she said simply. "Tell me your name."
He paused. Then: "I don't remember it."
Her breath caught. "You don't remember... your own name?"
He shook his head. "When the Council cast their spell, it stripped more than visibility. It took memories, too. I remember places. Feelings. Pain. Power. But not my name. Not who I was."
"That's horrible," she said softly.
"That's survival."
He moved toward her, each step more real than the last.
"But I remember my powers," he added.
She blinked. "How many?"
"Five," he said. "And each one cost me something."
He turned his hand palm-up. "The first is fire."
And without a spark, a flame appeared.
But it was not fire as she knew it. There was no light. No color. Just heat so intense it warped the air around his hand. The grass beneath curled and browned from the sheer pressure of it.
"It's not flame," he explained. "Not really. It burns what it touches. But it leaves no trace, no ash, no glow. Just pain."
He closed his fist, and the air shimmered back into stillness. The scent of singed earth lingered.
Lysaria stepped closer. "And you hate it."
He looked surprised.
"I can see it in your eyes. You speak of it like a curse."
He looked down. "Because it is. It was the first thing I learned after they made me invisible. I was hunted. Cornered. I used it to escape. But I left behind someone I loved."
Her expression softened. "A family?"
"A brother. He screamed when he saw what I became. Not because I hurt him. Because I couldn't stop what I had become."
Lysaria reached out, gently taking his hand. Her fingers trembled at the strange sensation as if touching wind made solid. She could feel warmth, not burning, but intense. Life trapped in a cage of unbeing.
"Then let me help you remember who you were."
His throat tightened. "Why?"
"Because you saved me. When you could have vanished. Because you speak gently. Because someone once loved you. And that means you're worth saving."
The invisible man didn't answer. But he didn't pull away either.
The wind shifted, bringing the scent of distant fireblossoms. A lone owl called from a hollow. Somewhere, magic stirred. And for the first time in years, the Phantom of Everfall felt something other than fear:
Hope.
They sat by the water's edge as moonlight rippled across the surface. The man told her fragments of what he remembered a tower in a kingdom long fallen, a pendant shaped like a tear, the laughter of a girl with white ribbons in her hair. He remembered running. Always running.
"The fire saved me more than once," he said. "But every time I used it, I felt... further from myself."
"Did the Council ever try to understand you?"
He gave a humorless laugh. "They called me abomination before I even spoke. The first time I burned their spell traps, they marked me as unclean."
Lysaria clenched her fists. "They called you unclean, but they never questioned the power that made you?"
"They feared it."
"Then they feared what they couldn't control."
He looked at her, really looked, like no one had in years.
"You don't talk like the others."
"I'm not like the others."
"Then maybe... we both don't belong."
Silence settled between them, not heavy, but peaceful. The forest seemed to sigh in agreement.
"What's the second power?" she asked.
He hesitated. "That... is the one I fear most."
She met his eyes. "Tell me anyway."
And though he didn't say the name of it, something passed between them in that moment a trust forming like fire from coals, quiet and glowing.
In the distance, unseen to them both, something watched. Something ancient. Not the Council. Something older.
But for now, they had peace.
And a beginning,