Waking up from anesthesia is a unique experience that I’m not sure anyone can accurately describe, if only because until you’re firing on all cylinders, all the various parts of your mind are operating independently and not sharing their homework, provided they’re operating at all.

  That’s why I knew I’d been awake a while before I realized I was awake. That said, while there were a few similarities between the last time I woke up like this from being a bit too close to a VBIED when it went off during my first tour, some distinct differences stood out. Sure, I certainly didn’t wake up in the same place the lights went out and I wasn’t wearing much of anything that I could tell. At the same time, I definitely wasn’t in a hospital. Hospitals didn’t reek of earthy incense, and I couldn’t recall hearing any chanting in a strangely foreign tongue during my visit to Ramstein.

  Come to think of it, I woke up at Ramstein laying on my back in bed and covered in bandages. Here, I woke up on my belly on top of what felt like a wooden table.

  No sooner than I realized someone’s hand was on the back of my head, their touch grew strangely cold and I got the disturbing impression of that hand sinking into my skull.

  BE NOT AFRAID

  While I was most certainly not the best Christian, that simple statement echoing through my mind in a voice not my own had the exact opposite effect. I snapped open my eyes expecting to see something all wings and eyeballs that wanted to give me an offer I couldn’t refuse if I valued my soul. What I got, on the other hand, was a view of the inside of some sort of hut, primarily a short table just outside of arm’s reach lined with candles and incense burners. The best way I can explain what I felt while everything froze for a heartbeat was that every sense I had filled with static.

  SIT UP SLOWLY. WE CAN NOW SPEAK.

  While I blinked and drew another breath, the hand on my head withdrew. Wary and suddenly feeling like I’d been hit by a bus that reversed over me a few times, I did exactly as the voice said.

  The first thing to sink in when I turned about was that I could see through the woman standing over me. She was a bit more substantial than the force ghosts from Star Wars, but not significantly so. The second was that there were three other people in the room behind her, all sitting cross legged, eyes closed, and speaking quietly. Two of them were certainly the ghillie suit pair that dosed me, as they still wore their ghillie cloaks. The third was another woman and Scooter sat next to her, tail whipping about.

  Then the delayed-blast realization, the sort your brain tries to shield you from at first, landed: all of them were women and none of them were human. The two women in ghillie cloaks sported short haircuts, colored like the hills of West Virginia deep into autumn, a mix of deep red and gold, with long, slender ears pointing conspicuously upward. The woman next to Scooter had long, deeply brown, almost black hair that spilled out over her simple brown robe and ears to match the others.

  As much as I’d like to pretend that if I’d been less floored by everything that my eyes wouldn’t have been drawn to the cleft in the raven-haired woman’s robe, the truth is what drew my eye initially wasn’t the pale skin, but a glint of light off something metallic. I won’t lie; it took a little mental effort to focus on the symbol over what flanked it. An upright scythe with a sheaf of arrows arrayed downward, pointed toward the scythe’s base, and grain of some sort, wheat maybe, poking out behind the arrows’ fletching. The general layout and the fact it was all done in what appeared to be actual silver reminded me of so many unit crests, but I didn’t grasp the symbolism.

  Suddenly ghostly motion made me sit back suddenly. I’d been staring through the ghostly woman. Elf? Elf. Ghostly elf.

  “Do not concern yourself with my daughters for the time being, interloper. Until I release them, they remain unaware. I am Aoibheann, Mistress of Spring, Lady of Autumn, She who Sews All, the Golden Reaper, and last Patron of the Syr. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

  I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t. Not immediately anyway. Her words sounded like someone had laid two audio tracks over each other, one echoed foreign words in my ears while the other whispered English through my mind.

  I cleared my throat. I almost answered with name, rank, and serial number, but I’d had the impression those wouldn’t be useful here. “Sam. Ah, Samuel. Samuel Byrne. Sam works, too.”

  “Samuel. A strong sounding name,” she began. Something glimmered in her eyes. “One not native to the forests of the Syr, nor the lands of our neighbors. Why are you here?”

  When in doubt, be polite. There’s always time to be otherwise later. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, I don’t even know where here is, much less how I got here. Both here in general and this place in specific.”

  Her eyebrows narrowed and her hair shifted colors, darkening from the amber of ripe grain to a deep, almost walnut, brown. “You gravely injured yourself. My daughters brought you here and when their efforts to treat your injury proved futile, they called upon me.”

  “Ivy,” I started. It suddenly occurred to me that their language would probably get butchered when anglicized, like Gaelic, but I went with Ivy without the trailing syllable anyway. It seemed appropriate. “I doubt that’s the whole story. I can’t see anyone going to this length for someone they didn’t know, merely out of the goodness of their hearts.”

  Scooter sauntered over and Ivy leaned over to run a hand along his head. “No. My messenger asked them, but you are correct, my daughters didn’t do so solely out of concern for your wellbeing. Our forests are closed to your kind and have been since the— ah, for almost a half century.”

  I glanced over at Scooter who refused to meet my gaze. “Ah. How did I get past your sentries then?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Would you believe I just woke up there?”

  “If I hadn’t had to touch your mind for us to speak, I would not, no.”

  I wasn’t hallucinating earlier. I really had felt her do something to me when I first woke. “Touch my mind?”

  “I believe it polite to apologize. It was necessary. I couldn’t see you otherwise and no magic found purchase. For every intent, you were more transparent to the flow of ether than I appear to you now. I used my touch to provide some anchor here for you.”

  I could feel the concepts get stuck. “Magic isn’t—”

  “Real?” Ivy grinned. “I assure you it is, otherwise we’d not be having this conversation. First, magic is precisely why we can understand each other. Second, without it you’d be dead. When you fell, you hit your head on the rock just so. Were you less lucky, you would have snapped your neck. Instead, the bleed in your skull was barely slow enough for my daughters to see to you.”

  That sat me back. “I guess I did have a little bit of a headache after I fell.”

  Ivy nodded. “Which would’ve become a splitting headache shortly after my daughters came to your side. Darkness would have claimed you by the time you arrived here, and you would have moved on to your ultimate fate within the hour.” Her eyes twinkled as she subtly smiled. “That is no mere speculation, Samuel. The cycle of life and death is my domain. I see everything that touches upon it.”

  I chewed on my lip. A goodly part of me insisted this was all too fantastic to believe, that I must be dreaming, but one fact kept me from embracing that explanation: everything I’d experienced since I arrived was all too real. “You said you see everything that touches your domain, but you also said you couldn’t see me earlier. I mean, what you’re saying makes it sound like you’re some sort of deity. If you were, how could you not see me? That’s a contradiction.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Her smile bloomed into something that felt like a parent taking pride in a clever child. “You don’t belong here, Samuel, and not just because you are not one of my children. Your beginning was not part of this world’s cycle. Your spirit belongs neither to this land nor to any of my brothers or sisters.”

  I pursed my lips and denied my initial reaction voice, which elicited a quiet, reassuring chuckle from Ivy.

  “Be not afraid, Samuel. So long as you mean my children no harm they shall reply in kind.”

  I wet my lips before quietly stating, “And if that changes, they will still reply in kind.”

  Her eyes stayed on mine as she sagely nodded. “Just so. You are not the threat we feared you might be, and I’ve postponed your departure from the cycle. I’ve fulfilled my duties here. My daughters can handle the rest.”

  One thought broke free of the morass in my mind when she took a step back from me, but when I reached out my hand passed through her.

  She looked down at me. “Yes?”

  “My sister. Before I woke here, I was with my sister. Is she here? Can you find her?”

  Ivy’s lips quirked into a minuscule frown a heartbeat before her eyes closed and she turned her face to the ceiling. A heartbeat later, her face came down toward mine. “If she’s in this realm, she is not in the forests of the Syr. My children and I find great value in family. I am tempted to offer you aid in finding your sister as a gesture of good will.”

  The turn in her tone toward the end was unmistakable. “But?”

  “My aid will require something of you.”

  “Okay. What do I need to do?”

  “Do?” Her features softened as she stepped closer. “Powerful as I am, I am but a shadow of my former self. If she is beyond my reach now, I must use something connected to her to probe further.”

  Having been part of unacknowledged missions for the Army before, I knew when I wasn’t getting all the details, and I had the distinct impression I wasn’t going to enjoy the reveal. “And that something is me.”

  Ivy nodded. “The process will not simple; nor will it be painless.”

  I shrugged. “Let’s do it. Won’t be the—”

  “Samuel, I will see far more than your surface thoughts this time.”

  That gave me a little pause, but not much. “None of my secrets would be useful to you.”

  Ivy sank down on her haunches and leaned in uncomfortably close, putting us literally nearly eye to eye, and then it felt like I’d fallen into infinity. What followed was largely beyond description, both too dreamlike and too real at the same time. Ivy hadn’t lied, some parts were painful, and not just physically so, but there really aren’t words to describe what someone rearranging bits of your soul feels like other than simply a weirdly disembodied, almost unbearable agony.

  I knew the moment she’d finished the worst of whatever she’d set about doing, as I was suddenly suffused in a warm, weighty sensation that brought with it a sort of unspoken apology before it all vanished into a blissful haze that faded into a content darkness.

  ***

  Coming back to reality like the flick of a light switch still bothered me on a deeper level. When I started to sit up, a hand caught a shoulder and guided me back prone where I realized at least I had my pants on again.

  “Take things slowly today, Samuel.” Not recognizing the voice, I craned my head up to find the dark-haired priestess sitting next to me. It was only when her eyes twinkled that I realized she spoke in perfect unaccented English, not her own language. “My lady’s blessings are as much boon as burden. You will feel far more whole than you are, at least for the day.”

  Anything aside from automatic responses took conscious effort so asking a simple question took several heartbeats. “I’m sorry. If we were introduced, I don’t remember your name. Also, you speak English?”

  The priestess smiled. “A gift, for both of us. As for my name, you have choices: In my tongue, Eidhneán, which you’d probably call Ann. My name also translates to Ivy in your tongue.”

  The reality of what just happened suddenly piled up in my head. “She actually was a Goddess. I wasn’t imagining things.”

  The priestess’s grin carried equal measures amusement and sympathy. “No, you were not.”

  Sitting up felt like I had two fifty-pound plates strapped to my chest. “I really should apologize.”

  “She took no offense, Samuel. If anything, she found your mispronunciation of her name somewhat endearing.”

  Still trying to get their names straight in my head, I frowned. “Does her name have a meaning in English?”

  “Fair or radiant one.”

  I couldn’t help but smirk. “I guess I should’ve seen something like that coming. Seeing as I think I’ll call you Ivy, how do you pronounce her name again?”

  “Aoibheann, like Ivy but with a soft ‘n’ at the end.”

  “Thanks, Ivy. I don’t think I’m firing on all cylinders right now— er, my thoughts are a bit disordered. We don’t have gods or goddesses where I come from.”

  Ivy’s eyes twinkled again. “That may be, but can you say it is so? The Patrons, deities like Aoibheann, are of the opinion that their children must grow and learn to do for themselves. How do you know that your world doesn’t have a Patron who decided you no longer needed them?”

  I’d said before I wasn’t a good Christian and that wasn’t a lie. I followed through with my confirmation only because I didn’t want my grandmother to worry about me. At my age, I’d been in Church more often for funerals and marriages than regular attendance. Still, I felt Ivy’s suggestion leave a warm impression somewhere in my heart. “I hadn’t considered that. Though, as messed up as our world seems, I kinda doubt it.”

  Ivy shrugged. “That may be, but every child stumbles until they find their feet.”

  All the questions in my head fought to get out first, but suddenly one pushed past the rest. “My sister. Aoibheann said she’d help me find my sister.”

  After a few moments, Ivy quietly spoke. “I suspect you will find the answer unsatisfying. It isn’t a question of where your sister is, but when.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I asked the same question and did not understand the answer. She said your sister is not here but will be in a month. We’ve been keeping an eye on the human settlement on our western border. Your sister will appear there under the next full moon.”

  Suddenly lost in a cacophony of thought, I cradled my head in my hands with my elbows on my knees. Jenna survived. I had to go. I couldn’t stay here, but—

  A gentle hand touched my arm. “You are welcome here amongst the Syr. Our Lady did ask, should you accept, that we provide guidance in her stead. You might not find the humans so welcoming.”

  I turned my head ever so slightly toward her. “Why is that?”

  “A new misunderstanding atop an old, for us. You will likely be associated for merely stepping forth from our borders, and even if not, should they realize how you came to be here, you will surely be treated as part of the old.”

  I mulled this over. Always be polite. There’s always time enough for the alternative later. “So where will I stay? What about my gear? How can I repay you?”

  Instead of immediately answering, Ivy stood and clapped her hands together. A split second later, the door I hadn’t noticed behind me slid open. “You called, Mother?”

  “Is the Council present?” Ivy asked in the elven tongue.

  I turned to find another dark-haired elven woman in robes just beyond the threshold. I had no way of estimating ages, but the deferential cast to her posture made me guess she was young, whatever that meant amongst the elves.

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Samuel, this is my daughter and apprentice, Róis.” Ivy looked down at me and held out a hand. “If you need something and cannot find me, she speaks with my voice. If you would?”

  Ivy’s hand was warm, but surprisingly strong when I gripped it and lurched to my feet. Ivy motioned to the foot of the cot where I the rest of the clothes I’d been wearing when I hurt myself sat. neatly folded. My pistol was snug in its holster next to the stack, as were my knife and tomahawk in their sheaths. My backback and rifle were sitting against the wall. Everything looked freshly cleaned.

  Once I’d finished getting dressed, Róis politely nodded to me before turning on her heel and escorting us down a hallway that continually wrapped to the right. When we emerged into a larger circular chamber a short distance later, the thick tree trunk spanning floor to ceiling in the center demanded my attention. Easily as thick as I was tall, the trunk bore numerous lamps and a variety of decorations from glasswork to potted plants.

  Ivy’s voice yanked my focus back toward her and onward to the table beyond where a half dozen female elves sat eyeing me with no small amount of curiosity. “Friends, I introduce to you Samuel Byrne, our Patron’s guest.”

  While most eyes widened in what I presumed to be surprise, two sets of eyes narrowed instead. Both elves were dressed in dark leather over cloth and wore their flame-colored hair short, almost a pixie cut. The nearest one tilted her head slightly, studying my face intently. It clicked. Neither sat with their back to the door. While the other elves were certainly not fat, these two looked lean. I didn’t know how the Syr structured their society, but in that instant I knew these two were protectors, guardians of some sort, as were the other flame-haired elves I’d seen.

  Now, while whatever Aoibheann had done to me allowed me to hear their words translated in my head, I simply could not follow what was being said at all. Imagine trying to follow the words of a translator trying to keep up with a group of Irish women yelling in Gaelic at speeds approaching ‘angry Latina.’ By the time the disagreement came to a grinding halt, I’d expected the chancla to come out for at least a good minute.

  Everyone at the table, aside from the protectors, bore sour looks as Ivy turned her head toward me. “Samuel, it has been decided. You will be staying at the family villa once you recover. A proper introduction to the Council will have to wait until then as well.” She gestured to the only elf with gray streaks in her golden hair who nodded at me in greeting. “You will be taught our customs and our history. As our Patron suggested, we will train you as one of the Harvesters if you show appropriate aptitude.”

  Unsure, I asked a simple question. “Harvester?”

  When the flame-haired woman who’d eyeballed me earlier stood, the short sword on her belt was unmissable. “You may call me Rowan. I am the Harvester Captain for this settlement.”