Once I was satisfied the stage had been set, and the invaders would take the blame for Sieph's death, I cast [Portal: Summerlands]. I wasn't sure where I was going to wind up this time. It really was like playing a game of Russian roulette each time you took the risk. But I had faith that either System, Fairy, or the Tuatha de Danaan, even in Sleep, would see me back to my time.

Now that I had found Sieph, it would be more than cruel to find myself lost to time and never see or meet her again.

The Summerlands itself had some real differences from any other world. As the name implied, the weather was uniform, it was always late spring, early summer. The sun was always shining, and the plants and animals flourished without the need for rain. It was an ideal paradise, real and tangible, but also the stage for the Sidhe afterlife. It was here that the hero's, the Hunt, and those that had decided to fade gathered.

Time was meaningless when each day was exactly the same as any other. The dead and living each existed separately. They never met, the magic of the realm creating a line, a demarcation defining areas that the living could not visit, and the dead would not leave. And somewhere in the vastness of this space, the Wild Hunt rested, an area of limbo where the multitude of warriors that had joined the Hunt from the first time Gwyn ap Nudd answered the call slept, waiting until that final call when Ragnarok would be decided.

There was no curvature to the land allowing one to judge distance, no horizon because the Summerlands was not a planet. There was no need for the illusion of land and sky merging. The Summerlands was exactly as large as it needed to be. Planetary rules did not apply. Universal constraints were ignored. You were as likely to a portal into an area considered 'Sky' as you were an area that appeared to be 'Ocean's depths'.

There were people that attempted to reside within the Summerlands, those that had been disenfranchised, persecuted, or hunted. They found safety for a time, but eventually, they would have to leave, to return to reality. There was something about living the same day over and over, hunting and killing an animal for food only for it to return the next day, the harvesting of resources wasted effort as the Summerlands reclaimed them before they could be of use, that only the insane could resist.

This inability to affect change, the sameness day after day inevitably leads to ennui, a sense of detachment that would force people to return to the real world at some point. Or to fade, to allow themselves to become nothing but memories and ghosts.

The Summerlands was a place of comfort, a place to rest, and a collector of the lost. Lost colonies, people that vanish without a trace, entire vessels disappearing without a trace. The Summerlands welcomed those people, held them as precious treasures for a time, before sending them back. Often seeding them across the multi-verse in a distant land. Their new location selected by the Summerlands to satisfy some imperative that no one had ever been able to understand.

The Sidhe had always known about the Summerlands propensity to collect the lost, even though it was a phenomenon that we ourselves had never needed. With our ability to open [Portal: Summerland] there was always a safe haven if things became so bad that we needed to withdraw or hide.

It was during my stint in CERN, while I was exploring Earth using their Internet, that I found tales of the lost. Those people that had vanished, aligned with what I knew about the Summerlands. Roanoke colony, Amelia Earhart, the Bermuda Triangle. All these strange occurrences and disappearances could be laid at the feet of the Summerlands. Collecting the lost was like an itch it needed to scratch.

Each of those lost cities, people, or vessels was gathered, the people healed, their Psyche restored as they spent day after day in a world of endless summer. At some point, the Summerlands would consider them healed, decide that it was time to restore them to reality, but never at the same point in time or place they were gathered from.

Most were sent back to an era of time that was simpler. A few of the more advanced people were given a new world to explore and a second chance to prosper. But no matter where they were sent, the memory of the Summerlands faded, until only the faint memory of contentment and happiness remained. The Summerlands was as much a dream as a reality.

The Sidhe were immune to the changes Summerlands would make on those it found and restored. We came to this land by our own power and would leave the same way. I think that was why some of us were cast adrift in time when we left. It was the only way that the Summerlands could affect us, and like a petulant child that had been denied a toy, it made its displeasure known.

I was never sure the Summerlands was a real place with physical dimensions. It ignored too many of the Universal Laws. I had come to believe that it was a construct, the collective unconscious of every sentient being. Everyone dreamed, and I believed that the Summerlands was where those dreams converged.

It would explain the bleed-over effect. The stories and mythology that I had read on Earth, the novels and movies that spoke of Gods, Immortals, and Monsters could all be found by one of those dreamers. Someone that had connected deeply enough with the Summerlands to craft the tales that were based on dreams that were made real. The stories and myths that Summerland collected as adroitly as it collected lost people.

The Tuatha de Danaan had never existed on Earth until CERN opened. But the rich history and stories of them and the Sidhe were part of the world's lexicon. We existed in the minds and hearts of a people that had no tangible proof that we really existed until System integration changed that.

I might have had Sieph brought here, she would be safe in the dream, but she wouldn't be beyond my reach if I had. The Oracle had been firm. I could have nothing to do with my daughter until after my battle on Rome. Her presence in Cait Sith placed her beyond my reach. There was no power, other than Tybalt's, that could breach those dimensional barriers.

I had done my part, and the fetters of Paradox that had forced my hand, the chains of fate that I had railed against, were finally stricken. Paradox and Fate had been thwarted, and I would see my daughter again.

Summerlands and dreams be damned.