I am just another whisper. A flicker of just more darkness.

Pay me no heed, for I am nothing.

Insubstantial, unimportant.

I have no purpose, no reason, so do not notice me.

Do not sense me.

I am nothing but another shadow.

“Are you?” a voice asked. It was a soft, light voice, but still carried an element of challenge in the question.

Dyasen ignored it. No — he didn’t hear it. After all, a shadow couldn’t hear voices in its head. And no matter how unexpected that had been, he was not startled.

“Because if you’re ‘just another whisper’, why is it so easy to make out your words?”

Dyasen pressed his hands into the cold stone wall, using it as an anchor as he peered around it, but he didn’t think of himself as ‘anchored’. That would make him solid. No, this was just a temporary stagnance in movement, by random chance.

The four people in the room beyond were engaged in some sort of heated argument. Even as Dyasen told himself shadows didn’t observe people, he made out the shape of

a long blonde ponytail,

a head of short dark brown hair,

the same dark brown pulled into a high bun,

and waves of curly strawberry blonde.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

Dyasen slipped into the room. Everything about him was unimportant. Nonexistent, even. And as it should be with something nonexistent, he was completely ignored. He walked around the edge of the room, steering clear of the group in the center, and made his way to the desk at the back.

“Am I just hearing things?”

Taking a slow breath to calm his growing irritation, he placed his hands on the knobs of the desk drawer. This was going to be more difficult — trying to convince himself that he wasn’t moving anything was harder than just convincing himself he wasn’t there.

I have no impact on the things around me, and so they do not move, because I cannot move them. I have no impact on the things around me, and so they do not move, because I cannot move them. He repeated it twice, until the idea was firmly ingrained in his head.

“What a strange thing to say.”

He slowly inched the drawer open.

Inside was a stack of papers. Dyasen carefully counted the top three, lifting them from the pile before folding them and sliding them into the pocket of his garment. After taking a second to make sure nothing in the setting had changed, he slid the drawer back closed.

It had never moved.

He turned around, his eyes once again passing over the four heads. Only now, one pair of eyes — those belonging to the short dark brown hair — were focused on the air where Dyasen’s head would be if he existed.

I am just another shadow, Dyasen thought quickly, directing more energy into the feeling. I am just a passing flicker.

The eyes blinked, and the brows above them furrowed.

I’m not worthy of any attention. More than a passing glance would be a waste.

The eyes turned back to the rest of the group.

Dyasen took a slow breath.

After a few more moments, the group of four turned toward the room’s entrance and began moving toward it, continuing their conversation. Dyasen waited until they were most of the way out of the door, then padded forward, tailing them out into the hallway. He followed them past a series of doors, some open and some closed.

Despite trying to stay nonexistent, Dyasen felt the tiniest bit on edge as he followed them. I am not nervous, he told himself, pouring energy into the thought. I am not anything.

“I swear I hear something,” the voice insisted.

Already on the verge of anxiety as he was, Dyasen jumped at the sudden sound, becoming at once very startled and very existent. Moving quickly, he darted back the way he’d come as silently as he could and leapt into one of the side rooms, rolling under a desk he saw and curling up against the back wall.

He took a few long breaths, trying to be as quiet as possible now that he was perceivable to others. His heartbeat slowed down, and he closed his eyes, listening for any indication that he’d been noticed or pursued.

“I might just be talking to myself,” the voice admitted after a moment, sounding defeated.

“You are,” Dyasen snapped mentally, fed up with whatever this was. It had almost gotten him discovered.

“Ha! You can definitely hear me!” it declared victoriously. “I can hear you a lot clearer this time, too.”

“Just shut up, will you? I’m trying to concentrate!”

“Okie-dokie,” it said, sounding significantly more cheerful now that it had been acknowledged.

Dyasen waited, but to his surprise, silence actually followed.

Closing his eyes, he took a long moment to gather himself. The clothing he wore, the weapons he carried, the small earring in his right ear, it all was pushing at the edges of his awareness, little itching reminders of how it felt to be a physical human being. And the addition of something thoroughly unexpected to his mission — he finally allowed himself to consider it — had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. Miracca hadn’t said anything about floating voices.

Warily, he glanced out from his hiding place one more time. He’d taken long enough. I am just another whisper, he told himself. A flicker of just more darkness. Pay me no heed, for I am nothing.

Confident that he’d concealed himself, he-

Dammit! he thought as the recognition of his own confidence made him real again. I am not confident. I am not anything.

And I DEFINITELY don’t hear anything.

He crawled out from under the desk, climbing to his feet and straightening his back. All he needed to do now was get out.

And then complete the long and arduous journey back to the capital city.

And then explain to the Sheer of CaSaryn that he was hearing voices in his head.

Which I am not doing, because I didn’t hear any voices.

“Keep tell-” the voice began, then shut up as if remembering its promise.

Dyasen stepped back into the hallway. The air went through him. The light went through him. And he didn’t make a single perceivable sound as he turned back down the corridor in the direction the four people had gone earlier, moving at a quick pace.

Once that hallway ended, he followed the largest hallways, which were likely to lead to a main entrance of some sort. Sure enough, he eventually found himself in a large, open hall, facing a pair of large double doors. Sunlight spilled through the cracks around them, uncomfortably bright. It would be very hard for a shadow to persist through that kind of light.

Dyasen almost turned away before he came to his senses. I’m not a shadow; I’m a human being. I perceive the world with sentience and intelligent observation, and I won’t get killed by sunlight. That’s stupid.

The thoughts came to him near-habitually. It probably wasn’t all necessary given how much trouble he’d had staying in his shadow state earlier, but he’d trained himself to explain his own humanity with minimal conscious thought. It was sometimes needed with a power like his.

Well then. With that settled, he tugged the doors open and ran out into the sunlight.