The Doors to Elsewhere

Prologue

 

Prologue

Gideon stepped through the door and into the rain.

Cold water slid down the back of her neck as the door sealed behind her with a soft hiss and became invisible, blending into the background as if it had never been there. A single streetlight flickered above the road she had just emerged on, cutting uneven shadows across the pavement and illuminating the asphalt. The first step into a new reality was always the most refreshing, like opening a new chapter in a book. This one she had visited before during one of her previous travels within this cluster, when she had been younger and more adventurous.

Gideon smiled and took in a deep breath, enjoying this peaceful moment while it lasted. The city stretched ahead—gray towers vanishing into fog in the distance, neon signs pulsing faintly through the mist. A car passed, its tires spraying water across the curb, but the driver didn’t notice her.

They never did.

She pulled back her hood, letting the rain bead across the smooth white surface of her suit. Thin blue lines of light pulsed beneath the material, running down the length of her arms and across her chest in geometric patterns. Symbols she no longer understood flickered faintly along her sleeves—fading remnants of a forgotten language that decorated the entire garment. Her people had always worn these clothes. It was a tradition that she was unwilling to change, even if the meaning had been lost long ago.

A low tone vibrated from the spherical device in her palm. Three short pulses. Then two. Then silence.

Someone had followed her.

She felt the air behind her shift. A low distortion, like heat rising from the pavement. Gideon didn’t turn around. She closed her eyes and steadied her breath.

A figure stepped through the haze of rain behind her, the sound of footsteps unnaturally sharp against the wet concrete. He was tall, his face sharp beneath the glow of the streetlights. His suit pulsed with orange streaks of light that flowed down his arms and across his back like veins. He wore the same kind of suit that she did.

"Reiner," Gideon said without looking at him.

"You led them right to us, Gideon," answered the man.

Her fingers tightened around the device. "It wasn’t my choice."

Reiner stopped beside her, the hum of his suit resonating faintly. His gaze swept the street, eyes narrowing. "They’ll follow the signal."

"I know."

"Then why are we standing here?"

Gideon’s thumb hovered over the side of the metal sphere in her hand. Her chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths. "Because this cluster is different."

Reiner’s jaw tightened. "Primitive."

"That’s why they won’t expect us here."

There was a tense silence between them.

"You don't think they're still after the weapon, do you?" he asked.

Gideon shook her head. "No. This is about something else. Something personal."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because," she replied, turning to face him. "They sent him."

Reiner's frown deepened.

Water ran in rivulets across his face, dripping from the dark fabric of his hood. The orange glow from his suit had turned red. His voice was strained. "You don't know what they're capable of. You weren't there."

"I wasn't. But I don't think they will be able to find us here."

He turned toward her, his eyes sharp beneath the dim streetlights. "Unless they already know."

A low hum began vibrating the air around them—subtle, almost imperceptible. But it was growing louder.

Reiner’s eyes darkened. "It’s too late, Gideon."

Gideon lifted her head toward the fog and watched the silhouette shift at the end of the street—a dark figure moving too smoothly and too agile to be human.

She reached for the weapon at her side.

So did Reiner.

"They’re already here."