The door filled his vision as he flew towards it, head first. With how hard Mother had thrown him, there was no way he was going to be able to stop the bone-crunching impact.

He'd definitely get a concussion.

Or maybe he'd crack open his skull and die.

These thoughts flew through his mind in an instant. Fear cut into him, sharper than anything else he'd ever felt.

I don't want to die!

He closed his eyes, unable to bear the final split second of his miserable life. He could feel the rapid beat of his heart, could sense the blood flowing hot and powerful into each limb. It pulsed in his ears, tingled through his fingers, and filled him with a wave of desperate energy.

Yet there was nothing he could do.

His world went dark.

***

When he came to, Fade found himself sitting on a cold, hard floor. His back pressed against a wall that was just as unforgiving. It scraped against his bare flesh when he shifted and lifted his head. He blinked groggy eyes.

What's...?

It was bright, far too bright, like the sun itself flung cold fire down from the ceiling.

He hissed, and lifted an arm to ward off the worst of it. It helped very little, but he managed to squint for a couple of seconds before he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear it any longer.

It was just enough to get a glimpse of his surroundings.

He was in a cell. Ten by ten. All concrete surfaces, with the floor gently slanting towards a drain set in the middle of the floor. Opposite him was the door. There might have been a narrow window in it, but he wasn't sure.

He'd been distracted by the blood.

It pooled on the floor and splattered across the walls, fresh enough that it was still wet but old enough to have cooled and begun to congeal. Even when he finally closed his eyes, the image of it plastered itself on the inside of his eyelids, as if determined to etch itself into his memory forever.

Never in his life had he seen so much of the red stuff. How many people had died in this cell? How long before he joined them?

How did I even get in here?

Fade curled up, drawing his knees to his chest and shivered. Goosebumps prickled his arms, though it wasn't entirely from the icy air and cold concrete. Another detail made itself known, one that disturbed him as much as the cell's grim decoration.

He was naked. And just as bloodied as his surroundings. Perhaps even more so. Yet, as Fade gingerly took stock of himself, he found no obvious injuries. Other than being cold, tired, and hungry, he felt okay.

And horribly confused

What was going on? Why was he here?

He tried to remember. The explanation hovered close, he could sense it, but when he tried to reach for it, it danced just beyond his grasp.

The door opened.

Fade stilled, every muscle turning to stone. Someone had just walked in. He listened hard, holding in his breath so it wouldn't interfere with the slightest whisper of sound. Yet instead of footsteps, the next thing he heard was the door closing.

His brows drew together. Was no one coming in?

"You are awake."

This observation was delivered mildly in a pleasant male voice. Clearly, someone had snuck into his cell, as silent as a mouse.

Fade didn't respond. He didn't think he could. His heart jumped to life, hammering so hard he thought it would rattle his ribcage. He wasn't an idiot. He could do simple arithmetic.

When you add the unbearable brightness, the blood and the tiny jail cell, it wasn't hard to figure out that he was in a terrible situation. The creep who had just entered was probably the torturer coming for another round.

The man spoke again, but this time it was so close that it came from mere inches away.

"Fade," the man softly said, "Look at me."

Alarm flared, and Fade shuddered. The guy even knew his name! Maybe he wasn't the torturer, but the executioner. He curled up even more, though it would do as much to protect him as his birthday suit did.

There was a quiet sigh. "I am here to help you."

Fade didn't believe that for a second.

"Then why am I in jail?" he asked. If he was going to die anyway, then shouldn't he at least know why?

"A temporary solution. We had to be sure you weren't dangerous."

Him, dangerous? Ha. It was so ridiculous that Fade snorted. "Is that why you took my clothes? They dangerous too?"

"We didn't take them," the man patiently said. "They were ruined by the acid."

Acid? Seriously? Fade was no genius, but even he could come up with a better story than that. "Riiiight. Okay. Then the blood?"

"Yours," the man said. He sounded amused now. "And before you get any silly ideas, that was not our doing. The acid had damaged you quite badly."

Fade was silent. Outwardly, he remained calm. But inwardly, he was a quivering ball of hysterics. It was a quirk that his friends often commented on. The world could turn inside out and burn all the cities into ash, but there Fade would be, cool as a cucumber on a bed of ice.

It was all a lie. He just wasn't great at sharing his feelings.

He'd seen the blood. It was all over the walls. If that was his, like the man said, then he was pretty sure acid wouldn't put it there. Didn't acid melt things? It didn't blow them up.

Strong fingers abruptly curled around his chin, tightening to an almost painful degree. They turned his head towards the man. Startled, Fade opened his eyes, only to hiss at the brightness.

He shut them tight, unwilling to have his eyeballs sacrificed to the icy fury of the sun that shared his cell.

"Hmm." The man snapped his fingers. A beat later, he said, "The light's off now, Fade. Please look at me."

Warily, Fade cracked open an eye. The room had dimmed to bearable levels, but it was still bright enough to see clearly. The man had lied—he hadn't turned the light off, he'd just dimmed it.

He tried to pull away, but the hand on his face wouldn't budge. Fade winced, but finally shifted his gaze to the man.

What he saw was a very ordinary face. From the classic cut of the dark hair to the clean-shaven jaw, the man was someone who could blend into any crowd. He was tidy, unassuming, and somewhere in his thirties. Completely normal. Maybe even boring.

Except for one, tiny detail.

His eyes gleamed like rubies, a vibrant blood-red that left the realm of natural and delved deep into the supernatural. Fade stared, completely speechless.

In turn, the man held his gaze steadily. He smiled.

"The eyes always show it," he murmured.

He released Fade's chin, but immediately placed his hands on Fade's shoulders. He didn't seem to notice when Fade tried to shake him off, uncomfortable with a weird stranger getting so handsy.

Just who was this guy, anyway?

"I imagine you're feeling somewhat disoriented," the man said.

Fade nodded, because that was an understatement if he ever heard one. He still couldn't take his attention away from those freaky eyes. Those had to be contacts, right?

"It's perfectly normal, so don't be afraid. That's why I am here." The man squeezed one of his shoulders gently. It was probably meant to be reassuring, but it only creeped Fade out more.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am a Guide. And for the indeterminable future, I will be your Guide."

Fade opened his mouth to question, but the world abruptly fell away. With a disorienting lurch, he found himself jolting awake somewhere else.

It was like he'd been plucked from the cell and tossed into a new place, one full of swampy air and wet, tropical heat.

Weak light suffused throughout the murk, casting the new space in shades of green-tainted gray. Dark shapes loomed around him, but he wasn't paying attention to them.

Instead, he crouched on a table, or countertop, one hand bracing his unsteady perch. He was back in the silver suit. Back in the space station.

His heart stull thudded in his chest like a runaway stallion, and he sucked in a lungful of fetid air.

He remembered.

That had been a memory of when he first met the Guide. The very same one that brought them here in the space elevator. There were many Guides, Fade knew, but this particular one was assigned to him. He understood that now, just as he understood that everything the Guide had said in the elevator had been purely for his benefit. The crimson-eyed man couldn't have cared less about the others.

It was simply his way.

"...fa...d..."

Fade's attention immediately refocused on his surroundings. That sound had come from right above him. He tilted his head back, gazing up.

The thing he saw looked like a cross between a vine, an octopus, and a slab of raw meat. It oozed dark ink from several protruding knobs, some of which dripped onto the table right before Fade.

He didn't even flinch. He couldn't—he was too busy staring in horror at the familiar green figure dangling by the ankles from the thing's grasp.

"Lydia," he gasped.

Three things became very apparent at the instant.

One, he'd managed to get past the door somehow, because he definitely wasn't out in the corridor anymore.

Two, the thing before him could only be the Outer Rim plant, and it had completely overtaken the lab. Its grotesque vines/tentacles spread across the roof, the walls, and even the lab equipment, while several bulging, oozing sacks of horror hung from the ceiling. They looked more flesh than plant, their smooth, veiny surfaces wriggling as something moved within.

And third, Lydia was still alive, judging by the way her mouth moved wordlessly and how her stunning viridian eyes shifted to stare directly at him.

Fade stared up at her.

What was he supposed to do now?