It seemed like a unending nightmare. The image of her husband and his brothers smothering King Henry lingered in her mind, haunting Elizabeth as she returned to her bed, trying to find sleep in the depths of her fear and sorrow. Somewhere, it had relieved her of the waking horrors, drawing her into the darkness and nothingness.

But when her eyes opened, the world had changed and transformed. She had found herself on a barge, drawing towards an island floating ahead. The magic more powerful than what was her birthright. It was beyond comprehension, beyond rationality. It had to be a fever, a manifestation of her shock, there was no way that this could be anything other than a dream.

She drifted, accepting a strange device and the greetings offered by those waiting at the dock. She couldn't hear them, their voices coming from a distance. She was lost in a daze, mired in uncertainty and horror. What was this place and how could she wake up?