He didn't sleep.
Not because he couldn't but because dreams, when they came, were cruel. Dreams reminded him of who he used to be. Of laughter and light, of names and faces that were now smeared across his memory like water over ink. They showed him a version of himself that still had skin and a shadow, still smiled into a mirror.
But mirrors hadn't held his reflection for years.
He stood beneath a canopy of frost-leaf trees as dawn crept into the woods. The birds sang like they always did, unaware of the figure among them. Invisibility wasn't just a trick of light for him it was a state of existence. People forgot he was there even when he touched them. Their eyes would slide off him like oil on water. Unless he wanted them to see him… they wouldn't.
And even when they did like Lysaria had it never lasted.
He pressed a hand to his chest. He could feel the beat of his heart. That was something, at least. He still existed. Even if the world had long chosen to pretend he didn't.
---
Across the forest, in the golden halls of Elowen's citadel, Lysaria sat cross-legged on the floor of her tower room, parchment spread in front of her. She was supposed to be reviewing treaty clauses for her upcoming diplomatic tour to the northern fae enclaves. But her quill had long since stopped moving.
Her thoughts kept drifting back to the clearing. To the voice in the air. To the warmth behind that whisper. To the man no one could see.
"The Vanished Phantom," she muttered. "Who are you, really?"
She'd heard the stories. Every fae child had. A cursed human who stole forbidden power, then vanished into the woods. A man whose magic was so unstable that the High Council had erased him from the registry of known beings. Some said he killed with a look. Others claimed he could possess the mind of any creature. And a few usually the drunk or the mad swore they'd spoken to him and survived.
Lysaria believed none of it. Or maybe… she believed just enough to be intrigued.
He hadn't felt dangerous. He felt… lonely.
And she recognized loneliness when she saw it.
A knock came at her chamber door.
"Enter," she called, brushing aside her hair.
Her tutor, a gray-winged fae named Master Thistyl, entered with a huff. "You missed morning court, Highness."
"I wasn't feeling well," she lied.
His eyes narrowed. "Strange. You look perfectly flushed with curiosity."
She gave him a sheepish grin. "Curiosity isn't a crime."
"It is if it leads you to the Everfall border again," he said sternly. "That place is forbidden for a reason."
"What reason?" she shot back. "The stories we tell children to keep them afraid?"
"The Phantom"
"Didn't harm me."
Master Thistyl's wings twitched. "You saw him?"
"I heard him."
The old fae paled. "That's worse."
"Why?" she asked, folding her arms. "He spoke kindly. With restraint. No spells, no madness. Just… a voice. A very human one."
"You don't understand," he said. "The Council cursed him because his powers were too great, too dangerous. They said he absorbed magic like a sponge and reflected it back… but twisted. Contorted. As if the world broke when it passed through him."
Lysaria stared out her window. "Or maybe they just didn't understand him."
"You're to be Queen one day. You can't afford sympathy for chaos."
She didn't reply.
When the tutor left, Lysaria turned back to her papers, but her thoughts remained elsewhere.
She had to see him again.
---
Far away, he walked along a shallow stream, his bare feet making no sound on the stones. The water didn't reflect him. It flowed as if no one were there. But still, he listened to it. Nature didn't need to see him to acknowledge him.
He heard something in the distance.
A rustle. Then a whisper.
He froze.
Another presence.
He reached for his first power: Flame Without Fire. It ignited in his palms, invisible like him but hot enough to melt metal. A defense. Not an attack. Always a defense.
He crouched low.
A fairy scout crept into the clearing ahead a young male, in gleaming armor woven from starbeetle silk and moonleaf threads. He had a tracking pendant around his neck, pulsing faintly.
"They sent someone," the man muttered to himself. "Queen's orders. Find the Phantom. Confirm the sighting. Report back. Do not engage."
He didn't see the invisible man crouched just ten feet from him.
He watched the scout move, slow and cautious, sweeping the area. The pendant would eventually sense his presence. It was designed for that.
He had to leave.
But as he turned to vanish deeper into the trees, the pendant flared.
The scout spun around, eyes wide. "Who's there?"
He said nothing.
"Phantom?" the scout called out, his voice trembling.
Still, no reply.
The scout pulled out a blade infused with light essence. "I mean you no harm. I just want to see you."
He hesitated. Something inside him a strange, gnawing feeling whispered to reveal himself. Just this once. Not fully. Just enough.
And so he did.
The shimmer of magic peeled back in strands, revealing a faint outline a man of average height, shoulders hunched slightly, hair disheveled, eyes glowing faintly blue. Only for a second.
The scout gasped. "By the stars… you're real."
He vanished again.
The scout stepped back, breath caught. "Why don't you attack me?"
"I don't kill unless I have to," came the voice.
"Then why do they say you do?"
He didn't answer.
Because they needed a monster, he wanted to say. And I fit the shape.
The scout slowly backed away. "I'll tell them what I saw."
He didn't stop him. Maybe it was time they remembered.
---
That night, Lysaria sat by her window again, watching the horizon where the forest met the stars.
She whispered to the wind: "I'll come back tomorrow. If you're still there… meet me."
And though no one heard her…
A presence stirred in the forest.
And the man no one saw smiled.