My eyelids fluttered momentarily, vision blurred by the white light flooding through what seemed to be vast windows surrounding my bed. After a few seconds of confused blinking I was able to clear my vision well enough to see that I was far from alone. Gathered around me in curious throngs were groups of what I knew immdeatly were not human beings. This kind of mental image is not something you would expect to see in a lifetime, and certainly not someone like me. The last thing I remembered was a fight in a narrow allyway behind a dingy pub with a man who could have easily broken me in half. The next thing my brain registers is awaking in a strange room with strange beings speaking a strange language. Strange.

I attempted to make some sort of vocal contact with them but my voice was lost. What I had missed on my inital glance around me was flooding in like sensory overload. They were elves. Men and women were smiling kindly at me, hair each a different shade of shimmering color that created a multi-hued rainbow. Their faces were narrow and chisled, skin somewhere between bronze and pale. Ears tapered to a point at the end, they were all beautiful. And if my knowledge served correctly, dangerous.

Legends of elves had flitted around my community for ages, far beyond my own years. Some said that they were good, helpers of humans and peaceful beings. Others casted a much more sinical light upon them, casting them as devilish tricksters rather than the peaceful tree-huggers some would expect. I prayed it was the first option for my own saftey, but seemed to be expecting the second.

"We are very glad you have joined us, young one." My head whipped around toward the source of noise, and a sharp intake of breath proved to be my own. A male next to my pillow had spoken in perfect English, words flowing like the most beautiful music imaginable. He smiled, teeth whiter than the light behind him. His hair was a startling shade of brown, clashing perfectly with his skin. I didn't allow his apperance to cloud my mind like so many other humans had succumbed.

"Am I allowed to ask how I wound up here?" I asked. He nodded, eyebrows raised.

"Of course you may, an explination is one of the many things we owe you." This puzzled me. They pulled me off the streets, yet they owed me. It made no sense.

"You owe me? I don't understand." He laughed, a noise unlike anything I could compare. It was glorious.

"Leah, our people have been anxiously awaiting the prophet's arrival. Our war is waiting, you are a welcomed presence. Please, you are home here." Woah, prophet? Brain meltdown approaching, this was too much for one girl to soak in.

"What are you talking about? Prophet? I don't follow." That seemed to be a growing trend.

"You mean to say that you are completely unaware of who you are? Your father was the Elven Lord of Whister, and yet you are oblivious to your ancestory?" I nodded slowly, lost in thought.

I had never known my father, and that might explain something. I had been abandoned at birth, left with nothing to show for who I was. Could that be why my parents had left me to fend for myself?

"I think you are mistaken. I'm simply Leah, no prophet. Just a girl from a small town. Not a warrior. I've never even held a sword before. I don't even think I'm strong enough to lift one!" I cried desperately.

"Well, we will change that. You are home now, and we are glad for it."

A dozen or so heads nodded enthusiastically and suddenly I wish for that deep sleep to grab me once more.

What was happening to me?