She struggles to the shore of an island, wind knocked out of her as she lands in the water from a height amidst a storm.

She's glad she knows how to swim.

She has no idea where she is right now and this is concerning.  What can she see?

In this storm - not much.

It's dark, thunder is growling and waves are pounding, though she can stay afloat. 

After a while, she can feel land under her. The sea has been merciful.

She's cold. There does appear to be some light, in the distance, higher than she is.

...Fine.  She lights her way with an Illusion, and heads for the light, staying on her guard for spontaneously appearing dangers.

Nothing spontaneously appears. She comes up before a steep cliff. There appear to be some paths, up, but it's not immediately obvious whether any of them are safe.

...Well.  She's glad she learned all the basic Sigil of Force repertoire, no matter how absurdly situational Weighted Stance is.  That, Haste, and the various spells of Vigor will see her safely up the cliffside paths, or keep her from disaster otherwise.

After she scales the cliffs (the spells were absolutely necessary), she's greeted by a small village of a few homes and two large buildings - one plainly labeled 'Old Rectory', and another, with an elaborate sign 'The Sweet Bones'. Light is seem through the windows of a few homes, as well as Sweet Bones.

She will be knocking on the door of the probable tavern, then, before disturbing any homes.  (...The strangeness of the construction causes questions - glass windows for random peasantry?  How?  She's getting the feeling she's not on Terratus anymore - but this can wait.)

The door is open, and inside is a warm, welcoming space. The patrons are less than welcoming, and all look at her suspiciously. No-one starts a conversation.

"I require a map, if you wish to be rid of me," the stranger in a tailored black formal robe (with yellow accents) declaims to the suspicious crowd, as she does - something - to cause water to run off it in puddling rivulets.

"Are ye with the New King?" someone shouts, and the others shush him.

"Look, we don't want any trouble," the bartender says "but with all due respect, I wouldn't go anywhere in this storm."

"Trouble may follow me here, depending upon various circumstances - but I sha'n't make any, on my honor and Kyros's name.  Not that I expect you've heard of him, if there's a 'new King'; Kyros is rather particular about being Emperor of Terratus in its entirety, so unless the name 'Occulted Jade' has meaning to you, I can only surmise that whatever strange magics threw me upon your shores have reached far beyond the world I know.  How many moons are there?"

"One, in the sky, and her mirror in the sea." 

"Haven't heard any of 'em words, but then 'am no wise man, me." the bartender answers. 

"Then I am certain that I cannot be upon the land of my birth, for around Terratus you would find two."

"Mmh."

"Frustrating, that; I had been dealing with something rather important and expect it to fall to bits without me.  Though perhaps Archon Ashe will pull something through in my memory.  He has his honor, and he did say he would back my bid for peace.  But enough reminiscing.

"Where have I found myself?"

"Brancrug Village, miss. Cornwall, Britain."

"And who rules, here?"

There are a lot of murmurs among the patrons.

"The New King, Henry the ninth. But we don't get many kingsmen here.

It's getting late, I can get a room for you, and you better talk to the rector tomorrow. He knows the stuff, I don't."

She nods.  "I would appreciate the chance to rest, though I expect I haven't proper money to repay you with, if that's how things work around here."

"Well, let's say, shelter from a storm in exhange for lack of troubles." he says, and leads her to a room, that looks like you would expect an inn room to look, if perhaps with unusually sturdy door and lock.

"I gave my word that I would make no trouble on my own; I sha'n't then trade upon the same premise, surely."  She seems almost offended by the concept.  "But goodwill for goodwill, that would be fair enough.  I'll work something out the morrow, should it be necessary."

She makes sure to lock the door, and discreetly ward the space.  Nothing dangerous, but she won't be caught napping if someone tries to be a danger to her.

Nothing tries to enter her room, or do anything else to her.

The storm clears up overnight, and the sun eventually rises.

And she awakens with it.

"Good morning.  It occurs to me that I have completely forgotten to introduce myself.  Ophelia Vaudelle, Fatebinder of the Court of Tunon, who is the Archon of Justice of Kyros's Empire - not that that matters in Britain.  My thanks, again, for the bed."

"Good moring. You're welcome." He doesn't volunteer his name.

"The Postmistress came by, said she wanted to see. It's to the right once you exit. Probably important."

"...Interesting.  I'll go speak to her."

And so she shall.

The post office is a small building, but is clearly labeled, and also notable by having a large pole with wires attached, running beyond the horizon.

When she comes in, the Postmistress regards her, and then gives her an envelope. "I believe it is for you."

The envelope is labeled 'The Librarian, Hush House, Brancrug Isle'.