It was afraid. Or at least it was very sure it was afraid. It seemed an appropriate word for the sensation the wisp felt. Had it been afraid before? It couldn't recall - only that it was well and truly afraid now. It wanted nothing more than to sulk off to one of the corners of this labyrinth and fall back into nothingness. But it couldn't will itself to do much of anything, not while this "Nera," dominated this place. 

Those terrible moments were all it took to turn a budding affection into dread. The wisp was ready to follow, to obey and listen. Now it knew it [i]must[/i]; that was the only way Nera would have it. To refuse certainly meant death, or worse. But that gave rise to another sensation. This one, it decided, was curiosity. Was it, in fact, dead? Trapped in some terrible afterlife? It had no true body to speak of, no pounding of a heart or sweating of palms. But the thoughts and feelings were all there. It only grew more afraid.

It risked a look at the others Nera had summoned. They, it was convinced, knew nothing more or less than it. Like this wisp, they were also probably buzzing with their own questions and feelings. And like it, they had no discernible body, but dancing tendrils of matter, unconfined to form or function. Who were they? And why, like it, had it ended up here? It concluded they must have something in common. If only it knew. 

Nera probably did. She was the only being it had found so far that seemed like it knew [i]anything[/i]. What did she demand of them? How had she brought them here? But the thing that troubled it the most was,

"What [i]are[/i] you?"

The wisp would have gasped if it could have. Covered its mouth and shy away. But it had already involuntarily spoken. If there was any doubt, it knew it could speak now. And some things might be better left unsaid.

"S-sorry," it stammered, "I didn't mean to be so blunt."

Now it was even more afraid than before.