Consciousness returned slowly, like the gentle waves of a calm sea. I was aware of the voices, but the words were lost, drifting past me in a blur of sound.

Slowly, the fog lifted, and I began to register the voices, the sounds and the sensations. The steady rhythm of a heartbeat monitor, the soft rustle of sheets, the faint smell of antiseptic.

Slowly, I forced my eyes open, and the room slowly came into focus. It was a clinical space, with clean, white walls, and sterile fixtures.

My mouth felt like sandpaper, my tongue sticking awkwardly to the roof of my mouth. A dull throb radiated from the base of my skull, pulsating with every beat of my heart. I squinted at the brightness, my eyes narrowed into slits. This wasn't right, the ceilings in my temple weren't white. They were made of stone, or painted with intricate constellations against a deep blue backdrop.

I shifted and immediately regretted it. My body ached and throbbed in protest, every muscle tensing in a futile attempt to fight against the pain. What had happened to me? Where was I? Why was I here?

My mind felt hazy, like I was trying to remember a dream. Flashes of images, disjointed and confusing, flickered through my mind. But each time I tried to focus, the details eluded me, slipping through my fingers like smoke. The last thing I remembered was being with Aeon and Nova. We were sitting under the shade of a large tree, enjoying the gentle breeze that caressed the island. 

What had happened?

A wave of nausea washed over me, my stomach twisting into knots. I squeezed my eyes shut, taking slow, deep breaths, and focused on pushing the sensation down.

Once the nausea passed, I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings once more. The silence around me was eerie, and the absence of any movement or sound only added to my unease. Where was the trickling of water from the fountain in the garden? The chirping of birds and the chittering of insects?

My breath caught in my throat, and a knot of worry formed in the pit of my stomach. Something was terribly wrong.

I started to examine myself, searching for the source of my pain. My arms were bandaged, and an IV drip was attached to my right hand. My neck was stiff, and there was a dull throbbing sensation emanating from my chest. Each movement I made caused a flare of pain, radiating outward from the center of my chest and my head.

My hand rose up to touch my forehead, feeling the bandages which covered most of my head. They were wrapped tightly, too tightly, their constant pressure adding to the dull ache that hadn’t subsided since I woke up. I winced, pulling and tugging at the bandages, trying to loosen them when my fingers came into contact with something unexpected, something that caused my blood to run cold and my heart to pound in my chest.

I froze, my breath hitching in my throat as my fingers traced the curved shell of an ear, but not my ear, not the fox ears I should have. These were human ears—small, rounded, and entirely devoid of the sleek fur that should have been there.

A strangled sound escaped my throat, a cross between a whimper and a scream, and I pulled at the bandages, tearing at them in a frantic attempt to get them off.

I couldn't breathe, my lungs burning as the air rushed from them in ragged gasps. My hands tore at the bandages, desperately trying to get them off. I clawed at the tape holding them in place, then my fingers touched what was underneath.

My fingers brushed over short, cropped hair, the texture alien to me. It wasn't the long, silky hair I was familiar with, but coarse, thick strands. Thick corded lines of stitches marred the skin of my scalp, and a cold realization struck me.

Bringing my hand down to my chest, I stuck my hand beneath the sheet and found that there was a large swath of bandages wrapped around my torso.

Tears streamed down my face, and a sob tore from my throat. This couldn't be happening, it had to be a dream, a nightmare, a trick. But deep down, I knew that it wasn't.

My mind struggled to grasp the reality of what had happened, and the memories I had buried deep, the ones of another life, a previous existence, threatened to overwhelm me.

Earth... I was back on Earth, the place where I'd been born, and had spent the first eighteen years of my life, the place I'd left behind, the place I thought I'd never return to.

The sound of a door opening startled me, and my gaze snapped towards the source of the noise.

A man dressed in a white coat entered the room, and upon seeing that I was awake, his face broke out into a warm smile, "ah, I see that you're finally awake, Miss Greene."

Two other people dressed in the same white coats followed behind him.

"Miss Greene," the lead man said with a gentle smile. "My name is Dr. Phillips and this is my team."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the only sound that came out was a parched croak. My throat felt like a barren desert, each attempted word scraping painfully against the coarse sandpaper of my parched tongue.

"Ah, let me get you something for that," Dr. Phillips said with a concerned frown before turning to one of his team members and giving a quiet instruction. One my human ears could not perceive, but my vulpine ones surely would have.

A few moments later, the woman he had spoken to returned with a small cup, which she held to my lips, ignoring  my shaky attempts to take it for myself. The liquid was thick and overly sweet, but it was the relief that I had been seeking.

While I drank, the doctor started to examine my head, looking carefully at the bandages.

"We're going to have to replace these," Dr. Phillips said to one of the other people who had come into the room. "The stitches are healing nicely, but she has scratched a few areas."

I winced as the doctor prodded at one of the more tender spots, but kept drinking the sweet liquid. It was helping to ease the raw ache of my throat, and the dull pounding in my head was beginning to fade.

As I drank, the doctor spoke, his voice calm and soothing. "How are you feeling, Miss Greene? Any pain or discomfort?"

I paused for a moment, trying to determine how best to answer his question. My body was sore, and my mind felt sluggish, but that was likely a result of the shock and confusion that had been overwhelming me.

"I'm fine," I managed to rasp out.

Dr. Phillips gave me a skeptical look, "One of those are we?" he chuckled, shaking his head, "why am I not surprised?" His voice was laced with a tone of patience that I found infuriating. He was speaking to me as though I were a child and not the High Priestess of Trismegistus.

The urge to lash out was strong, but I was far too drained to muster the energy. Instead, I merely glared at the doctor, hoping he would get the message.

"Well, Miss Greene, I can see you're quite the stubborn one," Dr. Phillips chuckled again, and I bristled at the patronizing tone. "But, while you are recovering, I need you to listen to the medical professionals. We're here to help you, not harm you. You have undergone several surgical procedures, which can be quite taxing on the body."

The words "surgeries" and "procedures" rattled around in my head. "And what exactly did you do to me?"

Dr. Phillips pursed his lips, and gave me a sympathetic look, "there's a lot that needs to be explained to you, but I'm afraid it's not the right time for that, and you need to rest."

My frustration and irritation flared, and I snapped, "I don't care about the 'right time' or what I 'need', just tell me what happened to me and what did you do! Because I don't seem to recall consenting to any surgeries."

There was a brief moment of tense silence as the doctor and his team exchanged looks, and then, he turned back to me and cleared his throat, "your attorney, Simon Davis, gave permission on your behalf as your legal proxy."

I blinked, my mind struggling to make sense of his words. Right... yes, I had given him power of attorney, hadn't I?

The doctor's expression softened, and he gently touched my shoulder, "you have a lot of healing to do, both physically and emotionally, but I can assure you that we're here to help you."

A wave of exhaustion washed over me, and I let out a sigh. I wasn't sure if I was ready to deal with everything, but I knew that I needed answers.

"At least tell me what happened and what you did to me."

"You have undergone two surgical procedures, Miss Greene," the doctor said, his tone gentle but firm. "I am not sure if you are aware of your situation, but you have suffered significant injuries. Your heart was our first priority, and I am pleased to say that the surgery was a success. Your body has accepted the artificial heart and it is working well. However, we are going to need to monitor your condition very closely."

He continued, "the second procedure was a little more complex. Due to the severity of your injuries, and the fact that your head trauma was too great for your brain to heal on its own, you required  a series of neurological procedures to repair and restore some of the damage that was done, this involved the implantation of an upgraded neural interface."

His words echoed through my mind, and the weight of them was almost suffocating. Artificial heart, brain surgeries, upgraded neural interface...

It was too much.

A numbness began to creep into my body, a cold, empty feeling that spread through my limbs and into my chest. My eyes darted around the room, taking in the sterile, clinical space, and the medical equipment that surrounded me.

The doctor was still talking, his voice droning on as the two doctors who'd come in with him finished re-bandaging my head.

"The new neural interface is designed to bypass the damaged areas and allow normal cognitive functions."

I furrowed my brows. "Neural interfaces, or at least those I know of, are only a basic means of interacting with computer systems, they aren't capable of bypassing or repairing any sort of brain damage, not to mention, the last I checked, they require an external power source and network."

The doctor gave me a wry smile, "you are correct, most of the interfaces that are used by the general population need to be connected to external devices in order to function. However, the interface we implanted in you is a prototype, which is far more advanced than the ones used by those accessing basic virtual environments, yours is an upgrade of the neural link system used for those in full-immersion pods, that we have utilized for the purpose of bypassing damaged brain tissue, creating a connection between the healthy sections and allowing them to operate as normal."

"Does that mean I will be going back into a pod? Those interfaces are only for use with long-term immersion pods," I pointed out, feeling a well of hope rising within me.

"You need not worry, Miss Greene, while the neural interface does require a connection to an external power source and processor, we have made provisions for a more portable option. At present, you are connected to the bed," he continued, "but eventually, we will transition you to a mobile unit which will allow you to move around more freely, and the device has enough internal power to run the interface for several days, after which, you would need to recharge it via a standard electrical outlet."

This was all so much information to take in, and I struggled to wrap my head around it all. His words echoed in my head as I processed what he'd just told me, "I won't be going back then?"

"That's correct, Ms. Greene," the doctor nodded, his gaze steady.

"I see..." I murmured, trying to process all the information. "This... interface. Does it have any active AI?"

"It does not have an active AI, however, the interface is capable of learning and adapting to your brain's activity. Over time, it will become more integrated into your neural system, and your ability to control the interface will increase," the doctor replied.

"So no A.I..." Then what of Nova and Aeon?

"No, Miss Greene, no AI, it is solely controlled by you," he gave a reassuring smile, but his next words were anything but. "However, your interface's status and that of your heart, is being monitored by one of the facilities A.I. , known as Seraphim. While the facility's A.I. is not capable of directly controlling the implant, it is capable of detecting irregularities and can take appropriate actions."

"Irregularities?" I echoed, my brow furrowed. "Such as?"

The doctor gave another one of his smiles, "well, it could range from something as simple as an increase in heart rate, to something more serious, such as a critical system failure. It will be able to alert us if there are any issues with the implant or the artificial heart."

I narrowed my eyes, "so what you are telling me, is that I'm going to have an A.I. monitoring my every thought."

"Miss Greene," the doctor replied, his tone still patient and calm. "The system has been programmed to alert us if your vitals begin to show signs of stress or distress."

He didn't deny it would be able to read my thoughts, though.

The doctor paused, as if considering his next words carefully, then continued, "I know this is a lot to take in, but it was a necessary precaution. You suffered a severe brain injury, and we had to replace your heart with an artificial one. We can't be too careful, and with the amount of experimental technology involved, it is only natural that we have measures in place to ensure your safety and wellbeing."

"Artificial organs and limbs aren't exactly groundbreaking new tech," I replied, giving him a skeptical look, "they've been used for centuries as a replacement for damaged organic ones."

"That is true," the doctor conceded, his tone still calm and even. "However,  the implant in your brain is a new design. It is designed to be integrated with the nervous system and the brain, it is also controlling your heartbeat, among other things. This is all experimental technology, Miss Greene, and while we are confident in our abilities, we are not perfect."

"Right, so I'm your guinea pig," I sighed, letting the words sink in. "So, what are the downsides to all of this? Are there any side effects or potential risks?"

"There are always risks with any type of surgery, Miss Greene, but you are in good hands," the doctor assured me, his smile still in place.

"And if I want to go back?" I asked, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Unfortunately, the implant is now part of you. There is no going back, Miss Greene."

I let out a frustrated sigh. He had misunderstood my question.

"What I mean is, if I want to go back into stasis, can that be done? Or will this," I lifted my left hand, pointing at my head, "not allow me to do so?"

The doctor paled slightly, and his smile faltered. "Ah, well, that is- I, yes, that would be a possibility, however, I..." he stammered, then took a deep breath, composing himself. "Miss Greene," his voice softened. "I think it would be best if you rested now. This has been a lot of information to take in, and you have only just woken up."

I bit back the sharp retort on my tongue, and nodded. His reaction had been all I needed, he wasn't going to give me a straight answer.

"I'll be back to check on you later, Miss Greene," he said with a polite smile.

"I'm sure you will," I replied dryly.

The doctor nodded, then turned and left the room, his team following close behind. The moment the door clicked shut, a wave of exhaustion washed over me, and I sank back into the bed, the tension leaving my body.

I had so many questions, so many thoughts racing through my head, but the doctor's words were echoing in my mind, "there is no going back, Miss Greene."

 The sudden chill that washed over me was almost a physical entity, wrapping me in its icy embrace, sending shudders through me.

Instinctively, I attempted to warm myself with my inner flames, but they were not there. No matter how much I willed it, no warmth came to fend off the cold that had seeped into my body. The flames that had once danced at my command were now nothing but echoes of a life that had been mere fiction.

A wave of despair washed over me, and before I could suppress it, the first tear broke free. I shut my eyes tight, willing the tears to stop. But the onslaught of grief was unstoppable and I soon gave into it. Bitter tears streamed down my face, each one a searing reminder of the life that was now lost to me.

Aeon and Nova would be worried sick, and I didn't even know what had happened to them, or if they were alright. Were they even still alive? What had happened to the temple and the island? And Kaledon? What of my brother? My friends? 

I couldn't bear to think about it. My chest constricted, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. My mind reeled from the barrage of emotions and the realization that I might never see them again.

I curled up on the cold, sterile bed, feeling more isolated than ever. I longed for the comfort of my flames, yearning for their warmth, for their familiar dance. But in this world devoid of magic, my pleas went unanswered. The emptiness where my vulpine tails and ears used to reside made me feel incomplete, like a crucial piece of me had been ripped away, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

A low animalistic keening escaped from my lips, the sound echoing in the stark emptiness around me. It was a sound that belonged to someone else, someone who wasn't me, yet it emerged from my own throat. A reminder of the Kitsune I had once been, but no longer was.

"Miss Greene," a soft, computerized voice suddenly spoke, startling me.

My eyes flew open and darted around the room, searching for the source.

"Your vitals are showing elevated levels of stress and emotional distress, would you like me to contact Dr. Phillips or the psychologist on staff?"

"I'm fine," I snapped, forcing the keening to a stop and swiping at my eyes.

"Your vitals are not indicating a 'fine' status, Miss Greene."

"Well, they are wrong," I snarled, glaring at the empty space around me, daring the damn computer to disagree.

"I detect no malfunction in the readings," the voice continued, "you appear to be suffering from a high level of emotional stress, do you require a sedative to help calm you?"

"No!" I shot back. Gods, couldn't they leave me alone?

"You are exhibiting signs of a panic attack, and it is within my protocols to administer a mild sedative to help you."

"I said no," I growled, gritting my teeth.

"Please state the reason for declining the recommended sedative," the computer replied, its tone even and unwavering.

"I don't need it," I spat, trying to control the frustration and anger that were building inside me.

"Miss Greene, your heart rate is currently at one hundred fifty BPM, your blood pressure is elevated, and you are exhibiting signs of a severe stress reaction. Your reason for declining the sedative is insufficient. Proceeding with the recommended course of action."

My head turned to the door, expecting the doctor and his team to enter, but as I waited a feeling of weightlessness enveloped me, and as my  consciousness faded, I remembered the IV in my arm.

Damn it.