A/N: I hope this interests you all and I am eager to receive any feedback on this potential project. ^-^

Sickness was consuming her, she was aware of that; she could already feel the hiemal talons of death at the nape of her neck. It was ready to strike her down, to reap her soul and transport her to the world that laid beyond the mortal plane. She hadn't prepared for death. No one was ever truly primed and ready for it. It would never send a message to inform a person of their imminent demise. However, she was used to death. So, in a sense, it didn't matter that her time was fast approaching.

Tuberculosis had ambushed her; what had began as a cold, severed into the deadly illness. It wasn't pleasant at all. She had never felt so horrific in her entire life. Her chest was constricted as she sat there, weakly compiling a letter to her dear sisters. Shivering, she heaved a guttural cough and signed her name at the bottom of the page. Her handwriting left much to be desired, due to the fact her hand was quivering the entire time she was composing it. Prior to the illness, her penmanship was immaculate; evidence of her education shown through it. Now though, inkblots stained the white page she was writing on and a multitude of the letters were smudged; her sisters would be able to read it though, so she wasn't too worried.

Coughing again, the woman stood shakily from the chair; her thin hand gripped the edge of the desk in a vice hold. She never thought she would end up this way, in such a frail state at such a young age. At thirty years old, she was still in the prime of her youth. Dying at this stage in her life, leaving her sisters and father behind - she could hardly bear it. The woman never married, never had children of her own; she had never experienced the intense feelings that signified romantic love.

She had been too engrossed in her imaginative poems, stories and ideas.

Though, at least she wasn't limp on the couch in the main room anymore, muttering weak words to her elder sister.

Clutching the letter to her heart, she staggered over in the direction of her bed. A wave of dizziness struck her though and her hand shot forward to grab the bedpost. Easy now, steady on. She assured herself over and over as she managed to finally stand in an upright position, albeit shakily. At that moment, she regretted all the times she ever took her good health for granted. She regretted not pursuing her dreams sooner. She regretted never striking out on her own in the world. She regretted many things.

She regretted never telling her brother how much she cared about him before he passed a mere two months ago.

Now she was the one being taken.

Despite her poorly state, she was clad in the fine dress given to her by her sister, Anne; a parting gift of sorts, she supposed. A morbid parting but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. It was the same shade of midnight blue as the night sky and the skirt fell to sweep at her ankles. Women of this day and age usually filled out their skirts with an array of petticoats, granting the dress fullness and grandeur. Though she still wore her underdress and lightest corset, she decided to forgo the petticoats, leaving the skirt light and flowy; she preferred it that way. The neckline was high, reaching just above her collarbone with a white laced collar. The top button was buttoned, as were the rest travelling from the neckline, down the centre of her chest to her waistline. The sleeves were tight to the crook of her elbow, then flowed loosely the rest of the way to her wrists; where the tendrils of lace, which matched the neckline, could be seen. The look was completed with her best pair of brown, heeled boots and the delicate crimson ribbon tied around her neck.

All in all, she was surprisingly well-dressed for her current state.

The woman reached up to tuck a strand of ebony hair behind her ear. It was tied back in a customary bun using a silk ribbon, which matched the one around her neck, and braid of hair wound around it. Her thick bangs were side-swept, with locks of hair framing the sides of her heart-shaped face.

She wanted to at least be presentable for when she arrived in whatever afterlife she would be sent to. While she appeared finely, there were sections of the dress what were a little rumpled; probably due to the weight she lost as her illness progressed.

After steadying herself once more, she seated herself on the plush mattress of her bed. Tired amber eyes flicked down to the letter in her grasp. This was her parting gift to her dear sisters. Her time was drawing ever closer and she wanted to proclaim every amount of love she felt for her siblings - and father - before it came. Words were the best way to express her feelings. They always had been. It was the same for her sisters, Charlotte and Anne. The three women shared a connection through the art of writing and literature.

She laid the letter on the chested-drawers at her bedside and then proceeded to pick up the book which rested near the edge. Bringing the book close to her heart, she maneuvered herself to lay back on the bed. Her head nestled into the softness of the pillow, though she was careful to not muse her hair too much. Breathing a contented sigh, she gazed up at the canopy of her bed. Her breathing was becoming more shallow and more time passed between breaths, each taking longer with every second.

Thank goodness she had taken initiative and written the letter.

Time was almost up.

"The only people who fear death, are those with regrets." She recalled the words of her father as her eyes drifted close. Well, she certainly had many regrets. That meant she feared death, right? She didn't really know. Honestly, she felt rather numb. Death had been a constant thing in her family, something akin to a companion. She had already lost her mother and three siblings to it. So she wasn't afraid really. Apprehensive would be a more suitable word.

She found it difficult to reopen her eyes now, so she left them shut. She was too tired to put the effort into it. Her hand weakly drew the book ever closer as her breathing became more laboured. Darkness was closing in and her heart was slowing, the blood pounding in her ears quieting.

With one last shaky breath, she felt herself withdrawing from the world. All that would remain behind would be her still body and the folded letter seated on the chested-drawers.

It read; To Charlotte and Anne Brontë, 19 December 1848.

With a gasping breath, her eyes shot open and she hurriedly sat in an upright position. Her aching body screamed for her to stop but the burst of energy she also felt inclined her to move. Her wary, and slightly terrified, amber eyes roamed the strange corridor she found herself sprawled out in. The floor, walls, and ceiling were pure white, almost blindingly so. What was even more strange, were the many doors lining the walls; all of different shapes and sizes. All from different eras it would seem.

What in the world was going on? She was certain she had passed on. Her heart stopped, she was sure of it. Was this heaven then?

"Next."

The abrupt voice caught her attention and her head whirled around in the direction of sound. The sight before her brought another gasp from her and made her stagger up into a shaky standing position.

Seated before her, behind a desk cluttered with papers and other miscellaneous items, was a man reading a newspaper. His neat, blonde hair was parted and tucked back as he quietly read an article through square-rimmed spectacles. His eyes were large, almost abnormally so, and didn't even glance up at her. A cigarette hung loosely between his lips, smoke trails emitting from it. She wondered if he was even aware of her presence.

Clearing her throat nervously, the woman took a hesitant step forward. "Um...Pardon me? Could you please tell me where I am?"

The man's eyes lazily looked up at her for a brief moment before he plucked up a slip of paper from a nearby pile, his free hand closing the newspaper.

"Is this heaven?" She asked uncertainly and tightened her hold around the book still in her grasp. "It's a beguiling place...I-I didn't expect it to look like this a-"

It was then that the front page of the newspaper caught her eye, making both of them widen.

"If you will send for a doctor, I will see him now" - The last words spoken by infamous author, Emily Brontë.

"W-What?" Emily uttered and stumbled forward, shakily reaching out toward the man. "E...Excuse me, please...I really need to understand what exactly is happening…"

The man ignored her pleas and proceeded to scribble down on the paper he had procured. Frantic, the young woman's stared at him, wondering what he was writing; she wasn't fully able to process what was happening. Everything was so strange. She had so many questions, she had no idea what was going on.

"Sir, you're beginning to frighten me." Emily's voice was now more firm, though there was a slight quake to it. "C-Can you please-"

Once again, something interjected before she could finish. First she heard a low sound, like a loud breeze brushing over a line of trees. Then she felt the pull. Her skirt billowed around her as she found herself being dragged into a dark doorway. Emily released a horrified sound, trying to pull her arm back as it was sucked into the endless vortex. She desperately sought the man out and tried calling out for him. He couldn't be allowing this to happen. Why was he just sitting there? She needed help! With another final cry for assistance, Emily was yanked completely into the void.

She vaguely heard words trailing after, the quiet utterance of a gravelly voice.

"Next, please."

Twittering birds and the telltale brush of a cool breeze on her skin were what roused Emily from her slumber. The second deep sleep she was awakening from; this one, though, wasn't of her own volition. Her eyes fluttered open, lashes brushing her cheeks, and were met with a blue sky. Snow-white clouds glided across the expanse and she could feel the sun beaming down on her. The sounds of birds continued to resound around her, happily tweeting to one another and oblivious to her predicament. Confusion filled her as she pushed herself up from the ground, wincing a bit as her body ached.

'Where in the world am I?' She thought to herself, looking around with wide, amber eyes. She was sitting in a grass field, wild flowers dotting the land. There was a long line of trees to her left, where the birds were singing. It looked to be a forest, a huge one from what she could see.

She wondered if this was some form of purgatory. She doubted it was Hell, it was far too bright and beautiful. Heaven certainly wasn't an option; she assumed so anyway. Emily had a strange inkling that this wasn't heaven nor hell, or even purgatory really. She was just trying to rationalise her situation. This was beyond bewildering. It was as if she was transported into one of the worlds she and her siblings had created in her youth. The wilderness and sheer mesmerising atmosphere of the place made it feel that way. She was hardly going to believe this place was Angria though; the fantasy world that came from her imagination. That would be ridiculous right? Though, nothing logical had been happening at all since she laid down on her bed.

She didn't even think she really was dead right now.

She still felt poorly, but not nearly as bad as she was before. She no longer felt the cool breath of death at the nape of her neck anymore. She did feel exhausted though. She thought she had passed on, but then she was brought to that corridor and strange man. He was seemingly the cause of all this. The question was...why? Why her?

"Well...I won't find the answers if I remain here." She murmured and managed to stand up from the grass, absently cradling the book to her chest. She couldn't believe she still had it, but it was indication enough that she wasn't a wandering spirit. Emily had been holding it in bed and she doubted material objects could be brought to the afterlife alongside the spirit.

Emily faced the forest then and eyed it with nervousness. While she loved nature and animals, she was apprehensive about venturing into an unknown place. It was her best option though, she was sure to find someone if she headed that way. Behind her was what appeared to be an endless journey of fields and mountains; she wasn't eager about trekking along that route. The forest would be the best course of action. Hopefully she could find civilisation; she needed to recuperate and rest her body.

With that, Emily set off for the forest; Wuthering Heights held safely in her hands.

Olminu had been in this Elven village for two days already. Two days of questioning the residents, jotting down directions and readying information to report to her superior. Locating the Drifters was becoming more trouble than it was worth but she was willing to do all could for her organisation; the Octobrists needed these mysterious people from the other world in order to defeat the disreputable Ends. They already had two in their menagerie; ones by the names of Sundance Kid and Butch Cassidy. Word of others in this world had reached the organisation's ears and members were dispatched immediately.

While here, she had discovered that there was another village of Elves to the west of the one she was situated in, where rumours were circulating from. Apparently, a number of strange beings had appeared seemingly out of thin air and were taking refuge in the forest near the village. The elves were given strict orders by the Orte to never venture too far in, lest they encounter the unknown people. Olminu knew from hearing that, that they must be Drifters. The Orte wouldn't get involved otherwise.

At the moment, she was noting the precise location of the village in her journal. She was sitting down on a crate located near the crops field. A number of Elves nearby were discussing the current harvest and when it would be the best time to start work.

"Shem!" Olminu snapped out her thoughts at the sound of her codename and quickly retrieved her orb from her satchel.

"I'm here, sir." She answered dutifully as she held the orb near to her mouth.

"Anything to report?" His voice was deep and inquiring. "Have the Elves given any new information?"

Olminu nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Indeed, sir. I have a new lead and will be proceeding to the location at dawn tomorrow."

"Excellent." He replied and Olminu knew he was grinning with satisfaction. "Be swift in your journey. We must pinpoint these Drifters as soon as possible, before he does."

Olminu knew exactly who he was and shuddered at what the outcome could be if he and his followers were to locate the Drifters first. The Black King was a horrifying yet powerful individual and the army he had at his disposal was nothing to scoff at. The Ends being the most formidable of his forces. Each was like the Drifters, beings of the other world. They also differed greatly, however, as the Ends and their king wished for the destruction of humanity.

"Understood, sir." She spoke determinedly and her brows furrowed with her fierce conviction. "You can count on me!"

"I trust you and will hold you to your word." His response came and the orb dimmed when he deftly ended the communication. That was just the way he was; clear cut and to the point.

Placing the device back into her satchel, her journal following, Olminu stood and made her way in the direction of the hut she was set up in. Despite being enslaved by the Orte Empire, the Elves were comely folk and rarely ever resorted to violence; not in the way they used to over forty years ago. After hearing of her position, they accepted her readily and gave her a comfortable place to stay while she was here. Olminu was beyond grateful for their hospitality, for she was becoming sick and tired of camping out in the wilderness.

Just then she heard the alarmed cries of younger Elves; younglings in the Elven community, bordering on middle-aged in hers. Olminu frowned and turned to face the entrance of the village, soon spotting the figure of one Elf rapidly making his way to the village. He was waving his arms fanatically, desperate to catch the attention of someone. Being who she was, honest and good-hearted, Olminu was one of the first to reach him. She felt a pang in her chest when she saw the fear swirling in his jade-green eyes.

"What's the matter? Are you alright?" She asked worriedly, reaching out to grasp his shoulder.

"W-We didn't know w-w-what to do!" He babbled in a frantic tone. "W-We f-found her just outside the forest! She collapsed a-and was all alone! She startled u-us-"

"Hang on a second!" Olminu cut in and she was sure the confusion she was feeling was evident on her face. She had no idea what the young one was talking about. "I don't understand, who is 'she'? What happened?"

The boy shook his head and took her hand in his, beginning to yank her along. "A woman! W-We found a woman!"

"A woman?" One of the older Elves, Albin, asked behind her. His eyes were wide with shock and astonishment.

"Yes! Quickly, we must hurry!"

Olminu and the consort of Elves were rushed down the path leading to the mouth of the forest. Olminu was still frowning as she was dragged along by the boy, absentmindedly watching his large ears twitch with his nervousness. A woman this far out in the backwaters of nowhere was an usual thing; Olminu was an exception due to her being a magician. The injured woman couldn't be an Elf. The boy would have said so and there wasn't the possibility of a singular Elven female escaping from the Lord who currently had them all in captivity. She assumed the woman was human, it was the only logical option. What one human woman was doing way out here, Olminu had no clue. She would just have to see for herself.

It didn't take long for the group to reach the forest's edge and startled gasps sounded from the men when the other Elves came into view. They were knelt down beside a crumpled form, apparently trying to rouse her in the gentlest of ways. Olminu sprang into action and rushed over to them, immediately kneeling down next to the woman. She was crashed out on her front, the blue skirt of her dress pooled around her. Olminu could hear soft pants of breath leaving her and was relieved to know the stranger was alive.

With aid from the boys, she carefully turned the woman to lay her on her back. Black bangs swept across the woman's forehead to reveal long lashes, pale cheeks and a heart-shaped face. Her mouth was parted the slightest bit and Olminu was struck by a chord of worry when she listened more closely to the woman's breathing. It was husky and sounded choked; she was ill and had clearly collapsed from exhaustion. Her clothing was odd, even for this world. It was similar but obviously foreign. Just who was she?

When Olminu finally noticed the book in the woman's limp grasp and read the title, she was struck by another chord; this one of realisation. This woman was…

"We need to get her back to the village. She's in urgent need of medical attention." Olminu ordered and gestured for one of the larger Elven men to gently scoop the woman up from the ground.

Olminu pried the book from her hand before they took her away and gave it a look over. She read the title once more and knew her suspicions were correct.

The woman was a Drifter.

A/N: I wanted to post this because I have been eager to for quite some time. I want to know what people think of it and am wondering if I should continue it. I don't know when that will be, as I have other stories to focus on. Hopefully it will be in the near future if people like the look of it. ^-^

Please review and tell me what you think!