I woke in a green field, breathing in clear air carrying the scent of grass. I did not question where I was or how I got here. Kidnapped? In danger? Maybe. But this felt nice.

"Interesting. You are nothing like the last one. He was quite jittery." A voice interrupted my thoughts. I sat up, glancing in its direction. A lone tree stood there.

The tree chuckled-not the rustling of leaves, but a distinctively human sound. "So that is how I appear to you."

"Where am I?" I asked the tree.

"This place is not yours to know, for your stay will be fleeting." A pang of regret bloomed in my chest at its words.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Can't I stay? I don't want to go back."

"Fret not, child. You will not return either. Raised in the slums, with no clean air to breathe, your kindness met only with distrust and hatred-that was your life. I recognize your trials. From now onward, you will walk the path of a healer."

"A healer?" I frowned. "Like the priests?"

The thought disgusted me. Priests were men who did good deeds to look good, leaving as soon as that was accomplished. I wanted no part of their hypocrisy.

"Similar but different," the tree replied, its tone unbothered. "Do not worry; I am certain you will find it to your liking. Before you leave, remember this: there are seven others. And once you wake again, close your eyes for twenty seconds."

I didn't understand its words, but I nodded. The tree felt trustworthy-unfathomable and intimidating, but trustworthy.

Soon, the world grew dark once again.