The first the I noticed when I woke up was the smell; a mixture of antiseptic cleaners that only partially masked an overly sterilized environment and the distinct scent of human sickness that made my stomach turn.

Slowly, I opened my eyes to see a dimly lit hospital room. The sound of beeping monitors to my side drew my attention and I looked over to realize I was hooked to a number of hoses and monitors.

Where the hell am I?

Light poured into the room as the door opened and a petite nurse walked in, never looking at me as her pretty pixie looking face scowled at someone outside my line of sight.

"Oi, Nattie, ya should dump the bastard," she said to the unknown person. "'E ain't worth ya tears. After shift, we'll head to the pub. The best way to get over 'im is to ger under another."

"Excuse me," I tried to say, but the words came out hoarse and dry. Clearing my throat, I managed to speak up, "Excuse me, miss."

Dropping the items she carried, she let out a high pitched yelp then yelled, "Nattie, get the doctor. Miss King's wake."

Over the next several hours, I'd find out I'd been in an accident of some kind at Bodiam Castle, though no one really said what kind except to tell me that I'd collapsed. Thankfully, Bruce was there and called over Helena and Oliver. When Dr. Oliver Whitehead (Yes, the same Oliver Helena wanted to hit on because she could sniff out a doctor at a hundred yards) couldn't wake me I rushed to the closest hospital. Tests were done and exams performed, but physically nothing was wrong with me. The words "catatonic state" and "spontaneous catatonia" were thrown around, but since I had no history of mental or physical disorders, they weren't sure how to address it. I was still breathing, my heart kept a steady beat and they saw my brain was functioning, but I just wouldn't wake up. For three weeks, I was monitored and observed until the night the nurse walked in to find me awake and talking.

In the following days, Oliver ran even more tests and examined me from head to toe. Once again, I was completely fine with the exception of not remembering anything except Bruce asking me if I wanted to join them at the pub.

Three weeks of my life were gone with no memories of them. Still, I felt like I should remember something even if it didn't make sense why I felt that way. After all, I was unconscious the entire time. What was there for me to recall besides my eyelids.

"Well, Miss King, your recovery is just a mysterious as your illness." Dr. Oliver Whitehead, who'd been my attending physician, said late one evening when he came to check on me. "I expected, at the very least, some muscle deterioration, but the nurses told me you demanded to visit the loo on your own today."

I smiled, even though I didn't feel it. Since I'd woken up my entire attitude had been morose. Every day felt like I was missing something, which I chalked up to being so far from home all alone.

"When do you think I'll be able to go home?" I asked, thinking that may help me get over the depression.

He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I think you'd be better staying for a little while longer. We wouldn't want you falling into another state over the Atlantic."

I nodded. "I guess so."

"Gwen," he said, sitting down on the edge of my bed. "Are you sure you're all right? I know we don't know each other well, but Helena said you were usually a very happy person."

"I guess so." I repeated with a shrug. "Just feeling a little out of sorts. Like something's missing."

He laughed as he got up to leave. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. For now, rest and relaxation. Doctor's orders."

I nodded my thanks but couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness inside. I knew I was missing something – some kind of loss that broke my heart but couldn't put my finger on it. It almost felt the same as when my parents died; the biting emptiness that shrouded me in sadness.

The shroud that they were looking for, I thought. The words confused me. I didn't know why that's come to mind. What shroud and who?

I got out of bed and searched through my tiny hospital room for my belongings. Helena had left England begrudgingly after her parents couldn't afford to send her any more money. I felt bad that my family was across the ocean worrying about me and wanted to let them know I was okay. Finding my suitcases and purse, I combed through both to find my cell phone to give them a call.

Helena probably took the wheel, I thought, remembering the stone wrapped in fabric in she's dropped in my purse. I didn't know why I called it a wheel. Did I see it before I passed out, I wondered as I dug through my oversized bag hunting it up instead of my cell phone.

I pulled the small pouch, no bigger than an egg, crammed in the very bottom of my purse. Pulling it out, I noticed the fabric, which looked like burlap, was open. Inside, a rough-cut gemstone stared back at me as if begging to be touched.

"One more thing, Gwen," Oliver said as he came back into the room.

The stone fell from its wrap when I jumped. I quickly grabbed it before it hit the floor and felt a zap like electricity shot through me. Like someone plugging a flash drive directly into my brain, every memory from the past three weeks rushed back to me in an instant. The power was overwhelming, and I crumbled to the ground from exhaustion.

"Gwen, are you all right?" Oliver asked, at my side in an instant. "What's that you have there?"

I closed my fingers around the stone and tried to smile at him. "I'm fine. Just a little dizzy."

He eyed me suspiciously; the same way Jacob, Evie and Henry had the first time I'd met each of them. He was assessing me as a threat. It made me smile to myself.

"What is that?" He asked more sternly. "Drugs?"

I chuckled. "No, Oliver. It's not drugs. It's just a stone Helena found at Bodiam Castle."

He sighed. "Gwen, stealing artifacts is a serious crime. Let me have it so I can turn it into the authorities. I won't mention how I came across it so you won't get into any trouble."

"Funny choice of words, my dear Dr. Whitehead." I smiled at him. "Artifacts are usually things of historical significates. This is just a dull little stone. Nothing historical about it, I think."

"It's not just a stone, Gwen."

My smile widened. "And how would you know that?"

His shifting glance was all the confirmation I needed. I stood, holding the wheel close to my heart as I walked to the window. Even in the glare of the city lights, I could still see the moon, full and fat like the night I left Jacob.

"I'll always be with you, Gwen. You're taking my heart." He'd said to me that night, but it was my heart that was with him and would stay there forever.

"You're about to sit down and listen to a story, Oliver." I said, seeing Jacob's face in the moonlight. "And you're going to tell me the truth about everything. Maybe I'm crazy, but I got a feeling that you and me are about to be partners on a grand adventure."

"I think you may be crazy, Gwen. But I'm willing to listen to whatever you have to say."

I heard a click like a buckle being fastened before he came to stand beside me. I looked down and at the sill where he rested his hand and smiled when I noticed the bracer.

"All right, Oliver. Let's start by discussing where I've really been for the past three weeks. Then you can tell me all about your little Creed and how it works in our world."

He chuckled. "Our world? What makes you think you've been somewhere else?"

"Haven't I been? After all, it's just a game, right?"

"Tell your story, Gwen, and I'll tell you mine."