The lake was vast.

It crossed the first horizon and bounded over the next, stretching, chasing the setting sun. The water I stood in was shallow. Up to my ankles in most places, but never reaching above my knees. Even on the deeper ends. As I walked, I watched the distant gap between water and sky, dyed a dull purple and pink by the falling sun. And at the sight, I wondered:

Was this the price I had to pay?

Never seeing the sunset in vibrant colors again. Never feeling warmth or cold or pain, and being unable to taste the food and the air. Not being able to smell flowers or soaps.

I was a ghost, he said. I could believe that now.

The Fae had taken my Name. Although what that really meant, I didn’t know. Right now, this place seemed like a purgatory. An unending world of shallow water, existing only to reflect the ever-shifting sky above it. It was a mirror of still water. Calm, disturbed only by my sloshing steps.

That wasn’t to say I was alone, though. I had Venti with me. The little bluebird perched on my shoulder and watched me walk, occasionally flying and filling the air with birdsong.

Pretty sounds. Sunbirds sang like bells and chimes, twinkling instead of chirping.

It eased the loneliness of a hundred miles.

And occasionally, fish would swim beneath me as well. Little things, no bigger than my fingers. They would nip at the bare skin beneath my rolled-up trousers, taking tentative nibbles before darting away. They never truly left, though.

I noticed the fish were following me. Curiously, too.

Whenever I brought the bansuri to my lips and played, they reacted. They gathered, swimming around me in circles, dancing along to the tunes that spilled from my instrument. Maybe because my music was stronger, now. Clearer. After gaining the ability to truly see—to hear the world’s voice, I found myself incorporating its echoes into my songs.

Over the weeks I walked, I made many of them.

I made a song for walking. I made a song for the lake, the fish, and the clouds. I played for the sun, the stars, and the moon, continuing a concert that only the world around me could hear. And occasionally, when I played well enough, the world listened. Sometimes, the fish would jump from the water, surprising me. Other times, the stars twinkled brighter, and the twin moons seemed to smile.

And when I played for the sun, it pointed a finger of light into the water.

I followed it and found a trinket, resting beneath the water. It was a bulb made of glass the size of my thumb, taken over by algae and water weeds. An insect had hollowed it out from the inside, filling the inside with dirt and allowing the plants to grow within. Little crawlers milled about inside, eating weeds and twinkling like miniature stars at night.

It made the bulb a miniature ecosystem of its own.

With a string drawn from my shirt, I turned it into an amulet. I wore it around my neck now, like a little good luck charm. I took a moment to appreciate it, watching the sun glint around the edges of the globe.

I let the amulet fall back to my chest and the smile on my face faded a little. I watched the clouds above me, drifting aimlessly under a dull sky. It was blue, I knew. But my eyes only saw grey and white.

My lips closed into a thin line.

I wasn’t mortal anymore. And I wasn’t entirely whole, either.

Save for hearing and my sixth sense, all of my sensations were dulled. And it seemed my needs were dulled with it as well. I felt no hunger, and walking a thousand miles failed to bring even the tiniest ache to my joints. The soles of my feet didn’t bruise or bleed, and sleep felt like a faraway dream. My eyes never grew heavy during my travels, and my body never weakened despite my constant movement. In fact, I felt energized, as if there was a well of energy in me that would never dry out.

With that energy, I practiced my songs. It was the only thing I could really do aside from walk. I refined the sound of the notes, and as the weeks turned to months, I learned new things.

Whenever I stopped playing, I just listened to the sounds.

I could hear it better, now. The constant song of the world. Everything was a note, chiming and twinkling. Waiting to be heard. Each sound was far beyond the difficulty of any mortal song. They were immortal. Older than time, with complexities that boggled the mind. Each sound had a nuance to it that was impossibly deep.

My altered psyche reacted to it instinctively, unraveling the puzzle. Immersing me in the sounds of existence.

It was like listening to the Singing Tree, from what seemed like so long ago. Back then, I could only hear the lyrics. Now?

I could listen to them. Truly listen.

Each note was a Name, and Names were of many parts. They were ideas, memories, and even conversations. Many of which I failed to decipher. After all, what did it take to understand the whispers of the wind? The talks of waves and lake grass leaves? It took me weeks to even understand the barest fraction of one whole. So, I focused on what was most familiar to me. The sound of the wind. The music of the breeze.

The Galesong.

I played it and the air swirled around me, coating my limbs and rendering me close to weightless. It gave strength so that I would never have to stop playing, and so that I would never have to take a breath when running. It filled my lungs with air unending, and it made me as nimble as the weaving, curling breeze.

And that was only a fraction of what it could do.

I’d already seen what a Galesong could do, back when I first encountered the Fae. He had turned me into a breeze without effort. He had turned me intangible—agile and formless like the the wind. It allowed me to fly past several miles in an instant. It brought me to my house in seconds through a distance that should’ve taken minutes to travel.

That was the work of a master. And the songs I played were a beginner’s echo of it.

Still, I was proud. I was happy with my progress.

Once I found my way back home, I would show father what I could do. I would tell mother that my music was more magical than any alchemy or artificing that she’d ever seen—that this was true wonder. True magic.

Because magic wasn’t a science.

It was an art.

I finished the song I was playing, and the curling winds around me blew outwards, sending ripples far into the distance. Miniature waves, echoing my song into the lake’s mirror surface and beyond. I grinned.

“What do you think, Venti?” I asked, turning my head to the bird on my shoulder. “Was that better than last time?”

Venti chirped in agreement, then pecked my shoulder. She chirped again.

This time, however, it wasn’t her usual chirp. It was a note of Galesong. Smoother, more refined than mine. She sang it once, and the wind answered, blowing past us like a child taunting a friend into a game of tag. Venti gave me an expectant bird’s look.

…She was correcting me.

“I still can’t figure that part out,” I sighed, scratching the back of my head. “The sound is different, but it’s the same note. I know it is. It just has another layer to it. How did you do that?”

Venti chirped.

“Helpful,” I deadpanned.

I got a peck to the face for that.

Sighing and resolving to try again, I brought the bansuri to my lips. But right before I blew into it, a sound I hadn’t heard in what felt like forever rang in the distance.

Voices. Laughter, carried by the wind.

I turned and there, walking down the length of the horizon, was a group of leaf-haired amarids. They led giant, web-footed salamanders down the lake. Giant crates and canvas-covered goods rocked unsteadily on their backs, swaying along to the lizards’ ambling gait.

“Finally!” I cheered, my face lighting up in a massive grin. I plucked Venti from my shoulder and gave the bird an excited smooch. “We found other people! I thought we were going to be the only ones—eck!”

Venti pecked at my face, then pushed her foot at my cheek to drive me off. When I was too busy grinning to pay attention, she chirped a note of Galesong, and the winds rushed to me like a physical thing. It shoved me, knocked me down, and allowed her to fly free. She hovered over me as I fell with a splash.

Yet, even when drenched, I was laughing as the little sunbird threw disgruntled chirps my way.

“What are you waiting for?” I asked, standing up. “Let’s hurry to them before they disappear!”

Venti rolled her eyes, chirped another note, and the wind swirled.

She shot away in a flash of blue light and galewind song.

Grinning, I brought the bansuri to my lips and did the same. The tone in it built, swirled, churned. Like the wind. I gathered it in my lungs, fingered over the tone holes in that perfect position, and with a single breath—

.̵̯͓̀.̴̩̓̆͝,̶̥̭͇̽̄̈́;̵̯̂̒̃.̵͚̞̾͊;̶̡̙̓̔͝ͅ'̷̹̂,̷̜͒;̵̨͛'̸̡̩̰͛̈͝.̵̩̅̄̆;̵̣͑̂'̶̧́̀ͅ.̶͙̳̙̋,̷̜͒;̵̨͛'̸̡̩̰͛̈͝.̷͙̈̃̆,̵͓̀̑;̷͕̭̤̈́̂̅'̶̹̩̆̀̅.̵͉̝̮̒͋͋.̶͉̫̊̃͌ͅ,̸͓͆̾̆,̶̹̲̓.

̸̛̝͔͉͐̐

—I was running, flying. The wind carried me forward, and my sprinting steps turned into bounding leaps, my body nearly weightless as I played.

My lungs filled with infinite breath, and my song lengthened. The waters around me rippled and splashed, like a blade was splitting the lake in a straight line. That blade was me. I cut through the shallow, my feet so light that they failed to sink into the lake. The water felt like a solid surface beneath me, rippling outwards as I sprung and dove and danced to the wind’s flow.

This was it! I would finally be able to figure out where I was!

Getting home was going to be a piece of cake from here. I grinned at the thought. The smile was splitting my face, I knew, but I couldn’t help it. I kept dashing, as fast as I could, running towards the people in the distance and following behind the trail of a little bird of light. All kinds of thoughts swirled in my head as I ran.

How would these people react to me? Would they be merchants? Travelers? Tourists?

What would they tell me? What stories could they share? Would they listen to my songs?

I couldn’t wait to find my answers. My heart was thundering in my chest. Months of isolation—walking by myself with nothing but a bird for company, and finally! People!

I found myself willing the wind to fix my shirt as I bounded forward. It was unkempt and dirty and soaked. But it was the only shirt I had. The gusts did their best job at adjusting the collar and I prayed, prayed that the tears in the cloth didn’t make me look like some savage vagabond.

It would kill me if these people turned me away.

So, I shot towards the group and slowed, the splashing water around me dying down as the Galesong fell to a slow hum. I stopped a distance away, raising my arms at the caravan making its way down the lake.

“Hello!” I called, “Can I come over?”

A beat of silence passed.

No reaction. I was too far, still.

Hesitating, making myself as presentable as possible, I began to walk towards them. Slowly. No use alarming them, after all. I fixed my hair, washed my face, and rolled up the torn ends of my pants. I got close enough to the caravan to be able to make out their faces from the distance.

There were a little under twenty people in the caravan. Mostly amarids, some human. Lean and tall and stocky all, with beards and gloves and long, traveling coats. The usual fare.

But one person caught my eye.

A novi.

My walking stopped as I stared at a race I’d only heard about from my mother. A man, made of solid magic, shifted into the appearance of a human with long hair. He was a half-transparent blue all over; a star descended from the heavens to take the form of a man.

Although it was a shame he didn’t glow like one.

I watched him in amazement. The novi. He sat at the head of the caravan, riding atop a feathered lizard that was six times my height in length.

I raised a hand again, waving it for them to see.

“Hello!”

And nothing. I frowned, pursing my lips. Was I being ignored?

I came closer, up until I was walking right beside an amarid in wooden plate armor, artificed to protect better than even steel. He had a magitech rifle in his hands, the energy cells inside glowing softly with charged magic.

A guard. One apparently incompetent enough to not even spare me a glance.

“…Hey,” I said, but my gut was already sinking. A cold sensation clawed at the bottom of my stomach, like icy teeth. The amarid guard didn’t so much as frown. Not even when I waved a hand in front of his face.

I looked at all of the caravan-goers, talking as they walked. Some played cards atop the lizards. Others sang traveling songs in a group, patting drums and plucking through the strings of a lute.

I felt Venti land on my shoulder, and the little sunbird perched. She shook her head and let out a small chirp, even as my smile fell away.

They were a noisy bunch, this caravan. A lively bunch.

And none of them could see me.

My walking slowed, stopped. I stood still, drenched in the middle of an endless lake, as the caravan passed me by. They sang without me, unaware of my existence.

Feet beat the grass, stamp the puddles,

They bring me far away,

I leave behind my father and my mother,

To chase my fated day.

I was a ghost. Nameless. Until now, I wondered what that meant. How being immune to hunger and fatigue could possibly be a price equal to my father’s life.

Now, I knew.

I asked the Fae to save my father’s life, and they took mine from me as a price.

Away from worries, away from troubles,

I walk the spring leaf’s way,

I tread the land and sail the waters,

On Seeker’s Marching Day.

I watched the caravan get smaller in the distance. I watched until the song could reach me no longer, and until they were nothing but blurry silhouettes reflected by the lake beneath. I brought the bansuri to my lips, then stopped. I lowered it and sighed. I turned my head to Venti and smiled wryly, forced though it was.

“Those guys were really rude,” I spoke into the air. “Ignoring me like that.”

Venti was quiet for a moment, and then she chirped in agreement.

“Next time I get the chance, I’ll play a song. One good enough for them to look my way. How does a duet sound? We haven’t done one of those yet.”

My sunbird bobbed its head. The smile I forced lightened a little, at that.

“Alright! Let’s get to practicing, okay?”

I started walking. Towards the horizon, yet again. Towards where my feet would take me. I brought the bansuri to my lips, and I listened to the voices in the wind. The mutters of the world. They told me I wasn’t alone.

Even as a ghost.

I answered the whispers with a song. ‘Ghost Road,’ I decided to call it. After what was to come.

After all, If I had to haunt a group of travelers to get a good conversation around here, then so be it.

I was going to be a ghost they couldn’t help but see.