Prologue

Adam had always told himself that he would make enough to slow down eventually. There was always tomorrow, always next year, always the promise that once he'd made enough, he could take a step back and enjoy the simple things. But tomorrow had never come. Not really. He was 45 with no wife and no kids, and the longest relationship he'd been in was for a year. For eight months of that, he was on the road, and she used his house for drug parties.

For 15 years, he was a salesman, the worst kind, the door-to-door kind. To make it worse, he was selling basic medical supplies, not to hospitals, which would make sense. No, he was selling to everyday people and mom-and-pop stores across America. Long hours, constant travel, and the stress of meeting quotas prevented him from having real life outside of work. He had learned early on that the key to surviving in this industry wasn't just about selling; it was about surviving the endless cycle of exhaustion. He had been good at it. Too good, perhaps.

It all changed when the pandemic hit; suddenly, everyone needed what he was selling, and it was perfect for 2 years. He was meeting every quota, hitting every bonus, and working harder than ever. His phone rang constantly, orders flooded in from across the country, and his business was booming in ways he never imagined. Every day was an uphill climb, but with each sale came another notch in his growing fortune. He couldn't remember a time when he had felt more alive, more validated by the success of his efforts.

When things started to slow down, he decided to take a vacation for the first time in 15 years. He called his boss and told him he was taking the next two weeks off to get a cabin and fishing in the mountains next to his childhood home. His goal was to be free from a buzzing phone, and up there, there was no reception for even an email.

The morning of the day he was to leave was everything Adam had hoped for. The sun was rising, and the forecast called for clear days and no major freeway accidents. The roads were clear. He loaded up his old 90 Toyota Corolla. It ran great since the day he got it; the only problem was the damn seatbelt never came down like it was supposed to. The supposed safety feather of the future, and on top of that, last year, the bottom half stopped clicking in place, too. He told himself it was time to get a new one, but that can wait. He figured it would be the perfect vehicle for his escape.

He checked his phone one last time. There was a text from his boss. "Have a safe trip, Adam. Enjoy your time. You've earned it." The garage door slid up with a creak as he pulled out into the driveway. He took a deep breath, rolling down the windows and letting the fresh morning air fill his lungs.

He starts heading towards the freeway that will take him to the interstate. He will drive about 9 hours today before pulling over to sleep tonight, and hopefully, he will arrive at this destination by lunchtime tomorrow. As he was merging onto the freeway, his phone went off; reaching for it, he grabbed it but dropped it between his legs and slid under the gas pedal. Looking up, the road was clear, so he looked down and started to grab it. He managed to get it out from under, and it lit up. His GPS was what made it go off. Road work ahead, and traffic slowed. He looked up from his phone, but it was too late. He swarved to try and redirect himself away from the workers and traffic jam, but in doing so, he hit the Divider in the freeway; he couldn't register what was happening fast enough. He found himself lying on the pavement, his body crumpled like a ragdoll. He could taste blood and feel it dripping down his face. His vision was blurry, but through the haze, he could see the wreckage of his car, twisted and mangled. Fishing gear was scattered around him like pieces of a broken dream.

His fingers twitched, but he couldn't move. His body felt heavy and unresponsive. The pain was overwhelming. He tried to focus, to make sense of the chaos, but the darkness was already creeping in. He heard voices in the distance, shouts, but they sounded far away and then nothing.

—-

Adam couldn't move. He couldn't feel it. He couldn't even think properly, at least not how he was used to. It wasn't just darkness. No, it was something deeper, something worse. It was the absence of everything—the kind of emptiness he imagined death must be like. It was as if he had been pulled from one reality into another, where nothing made sense, and his mind felt unmoored. There were no sounds, no light, no air. It was as if all his senses had been shut off, locked away in a vacuum that stretched forever. And still, his mind churned. He could think, but the thoughts were disjointed and fragmentary. He wasn't supposed to be thinking. He wasn't supposed to be aware. There should be nothing here, just the quiet, hollow nothingness of the void. But there was him.

God, what if this is it? What if I'm stuck like this forever?

And then—

A flicker.

It was like the smallest of pinpricks in the vast sea of black—a light. Then, the light expanded, and with it came a voice—a voice that rang through the blackness like the sound of a bell, clear and delicate yet firm as steel.

"Adam." The voice was a woman's

He tried to call out but didn't know how to. He couldn't feel anything, not even knowing where to start. As the light grew, he opened his mouth for the first time and asked. "Who are you?"

"I am Airmed," she said, the name echoing with a strange familiarity, a weight he couldn't quite place. "I am one of the Tuatha Dé Danann."

"The... what? I don't understand. Where am I? What's going on?"

Airmed's gaze softened, and for a moment, she looked away as though trying to gather the right words. "You are between worlds, Adam. You are... not quite dead, but not fully alive either. You've crossed over into a place where time and space do not matter. But I reached you because you remain."

He was dead. Or at least, his body was. He had died in the crash. But here he was, in the vast emptiness, alive somehow. This wasn't just an afterlife. This wasn't anything he had expected.

Airmed's voice softened, a note of gentleness creeping in. "And I need your help."

"Help?" Adam could barely process the words. "I'm dead... Why do you need me?"

The light around her flickered, and for the first time, she lowered her gaze, her eyes filled with something akin to regret. "Because you were the only one I could reach," she said quietly. You see, Adam, I am offering you a chance—a gift, if you will."

Adam frowned, the confusion mounting. "A gift? What kind of gift?"

"Knowledge and skills in herbalism," Airmed said. "The art of healing with plants. Herbs. The ancient knowledge of the earth. In your world, you sold medical supplies. You were close to healthcare but never did anything meaningful with it. You never changed anything. You never truly helped anyone.""

Adam's heart clenched, her words cutting deeper than he imagined. He couldn't argue with her. It was true. He had sold medical supplies, but had he ever made a difference?

She continued, her eyes meeting his. "But I can give you something different—a way to help others. The world I want to send you is filled with magic; when the common folk get sick or wounded, they must either pray to the gods and hope for the best or pay a healer. Most families barely get by and can't afford to pay a healer. Herbalism is something that can be taught; you can pass it down.

Adam's mind raced. He couldn't fathom what she was asking of him. "Why me?" he demanded, his voice rising in frustration. "I'm just a salesman. I've never healed anyone in my life! Why not a doctor or a nurse? Someone who knows how to help?"

Airmed paused. Her gaze dropped, and for a brief moment, her expression faltered. "Because," she said quietly, "you were the only one... semi-involved with health care who never did anything useful in life. Everyone else's soul was already bound, already on a path. But you... you were heading into the void, and I could reach you."

"I'll send you to a world where you can help," she continued, her voice firm once more. "You can take my gift of herbalism, travel the land, and help heal the sick. If you want to charge for your services, you might bring herbalism back into the world."

"Okay," he finally said, his voice steady despite the whirl of emotions inside him. "I'll do it."

Airmed smiled, a soft, knowing smile. "Good. Then come with me, Adam. The world is waiting."