Rashad led Hermes through a corridor, and out into the sunlight. The brightness made his head spin and he shrunk back into the shadows of the doorway, gripping the frame for support.

"God, I think I'm going to be sick," he groaned, clenching his eyes shut.

Rashad placed a concerned hand on his shoulder.

"You must have been clipped by Angelo's bomb. It will pass. Your coat bears a hood. Pull it close around your face and it will shield your eyes from the brightness."

Bomb? Hermes wanted to ask, but thought better of it. He did as Rashad said, and wincing, stepped back out into the sunlight. They started walking, and at first, Hermes was too focused on his headache to pay much attention to where they were going. He was glad he hadn't eaten much dinner.

Wait...he had been eating dinner just before he left, and it had been almost sundown. And wasn't it stormy out? Hermes stopped in his tracks. Squinting, he forced himself to look out from beneath his hood. He was greeted by a broad, cloudless sky. It was definitely day-time. Worse, Hermes couldn't see a single trapping of modern life: no cars, no power lines, not even any airplane trails in the sky.

They stood on a rocky path jutting out of the slope of a mountain. Beneath them, Hermes saw an untamed expanse of forest, stretching as far as he could see. It was surprisingly quiet; there were none of the normal sounds he was accustomed to. Even the air felt odd.

Rashad glanced back at him.

"Is something wrong, Hermes Swift?"

Hermes shot him an incredulous look. "Okay, Raddish, or whatever your name is—seriously, where the heck am I?"

The bearded man's eyes darkened. "My name is Rashad," he said stiffly. "And have you not been listening? I told you. You are no longer in the universe you call home. If you must know, this Node is called Gryx, but we will not be here long enough for it to matter."

Rashad turned away and continued walking. Hermes watched him. This is nuts, he thought. Still, Rashad seemed to know where he was going, and Hermes didn't want to be left alone out here. He still wasn't even sure where here was. He hurried to catch up to the older man.

"Rashad, wait. I'm sorry," he said.

Rashad glanced at him, but smiled.

"In my culture, Hermes Swift, names have great meaning. It is a grievous insult to mispronounce a man's name, once he has told it to you."

Hermes stuffed his hands into his pockets, and kicked at a loose stone.

"Is that why you keep calling me that? Just call me Hermes. You don't have to use my last name."

"Your Node must be a curious place, Hermes Sw--, Hermes." Rashad said. He continued walking. "Why do the men of your Node only use half their name? Are they only half of a man?"

Hermes blinked. "I...well, I don't know," he admitted. "Just the way it is, I guess."

The path curved upwards, and they walked in silence. Maybe he really was in a different world. Then again, maybe I'm the one that's going crazy, Hermes thought. That homeless bum in the post office knocked me over the head, and I'm hallucinating all this. Or I'm dreaming or something. Hermes glanced at Rashad, and discreetly, pinched himself on the arm. He winced, disappointed.

By the time they crested the hill, Hermes was out of breath. His head was feeling better, so he unzipped his jacket and pulled back the hood to cool down. Rashad, despite wearing a heavy cloak, didn't seem to have broken a sweat.

Rashad chuckled. "Do men on your world not walk, Hermes?"

Hermes grumbled a reply under his breath, then glanced around. "So, where is your ship? I don't see an ocean around here anywhere."

Rashad pointed to a large rocky protrusion in the distance.

"We shall contact the Broken Herald from there," he said. Hermes decided not to ask what he meant: nothing about this whole day was making sense, and it didn't look like things were going to get any more sane in the near future. He looked sidelong at the bearded man. Hermes didn't think he was in any immediate danger. Rashad was moody, but he didn't seem particularly dangerous.

When they reached the outcropping, Rashad pulled a large red conch shell from somewhere beneath his cloak, and raised it close to his mouth.

"Iris?" he said. "We have arrived. Bring the ship up."

To Hermes' surprise, a tinny voice responded from the conch shell:

"On our way."

"What's going on?" Hermes asked. Rashad grinned.

"Watch."

In the valley below, there was a low, rumbling noise. A thick copse of trees swayed back and forth, and something large began to rise from their midst, climbing slowly into the air. Hermes guessed it to be at least a hundred feet long, maybe more, and it had a sleek hull like a ship, but made of some material that Hermes had never seen before: it looked like a pirate ship crossed with some giant iridescent mollusk, and it glistened in the sunlight as it advanced towards them. Thorny protrusions jutted out of it at seemingly random intervals. He couldn't see anything that looked like engines, balloons, or even wings, but it moved through the air with surprising speed, and soon hovered overhead. Hermes could feel the deep thrumming sound that issued from it rumbling in his chest. He craned his neck upwards to stare at the giant ship, mouth agape.

"Coolest. Hallucination. Ever."