Sitting upon a throne of human bones surrounded by bloody machinery, a humanoid alien with soulless black eyes smiles at her latest victim. He kneels before her, half paralyzed, in one of the innumerable pools of blood that cover the factory floor. He has been injected with neurotoxins. His eyes swim in tears. He can't stop the horrible smell that invades his nose: a blend of blood metal, rotting flesh, and something sickly sweet. A few dim lights illuminate the enormous room. Several complete human skins down to the cuticles are spread across metal racks. Shelf after shelf of bottles full of dark red, yellow, black, and pale green liquids line the walls. Other captured humans, ones who have supposedly, somehow, won her favor, work the factory machines while Illixi guards watch them intently. In those machines, flesh squelches as it is ripped apart and placed through grinders. He has an excruciating headache. How could anyone be this evil? No word in any human language could describe the atrocities within this space factory.
 "Welcome," she says, pulling on the chain attached to the spiked collar he wears. He falls to his hands. The sharp metal digs deep into his neck. He looks about wildly, unable to scream as his mouth is sewn shut with wires. She rises from her throne and descends to stand over him. She raises her right hand and magically tears the wires from his mouth; they leap to her hand. He gasps for air and vomits.
 "Am I... in Hell?" he asks.
 "Lovely, is it not? I call it the Red Machine. Now." She lifts his chin up slightly, allowing the blood from his mouth to stain her light blue fingertips. "Indulge me: are you afraid?"
 "Please... d-don't kill me." Tears spill down his face, mixing with his blood, dripping to the floor. His breathing quickens.
 "Good. I enjoy your begging." She lets out an ethereal laugh, then lowers her hand.
 "Wh...Why... Why are you... d-doing this?" he chokes out through sobs.
 "I am glad you asked. Most do not dare to speak with me. My name is Echthra. I have been blessed with a gift from Wrivin, the creator of our universe. Here, I shall demonstrate." At first, a gentle warmth blooms in his skull. He stares into her face. Her eyes are black holes boring into his very soul. She delicately moves her fingers as a puppeteer manipulates the strings of their marionette. As she does, the heat intensifies from a soft campfire to a bolt of lightning. He shrieks and clutches at the sides of his head. Echthra waits a moment longer before staying her hand. She steps back and grins.
 "Oh, little maggot, you cannot possibly comprehend what I have done and shall continue to do. However, I enjoy the sound of your cries, and perhaps I shall hear some more. But first, I will tell you a story. On my homeworld, Sotiria IX, a royal family ruled over our people. As the daughter of the king, I spent my youth studying other cultures in the hopes that we might establish peaceful relations with them. The first few humans like you who came to my homeworld were kind and gave us hope. All the others sought to colonize and conquer, as most species do when exploring a new planet. These invaders stole our technology and figured out how to turn our own devices against us by giving themselves makeshift magic. Surely, you know that you are the only non-magical sentient species in this galaxy, correct? Much like a disease, your flaws spread across our planet and, corrupted by your own sin, you tried to take over by murdering my family. I alone survived. Since then, I have taken the throne. Now, I am on a quest sanctioned by Wrivin herself to exterminate humanity by any means necessary."
 "Who... Who is Wrivin?"
 "Never mind that. What I truly wish for you to understand is my purpose in creating the Red Machine. After all," she steps forward again and leans in close to his ear, lowering her voice, "you shall not live long enough to tell the tale."
 "Wait, p-please!"
 "Before I proceed, I want you to feel what I have experienced." Echthra reaches out her fingers and cups his face in her cold hands. A chill runs up his spine.
 "Wh-What are you—"
 "I shall remove your eyes so that you may know the darkness I have been thrust into." She places her thumbs on the corners and gouges his eyes out. He screams and writhes in agony. Blood pours down his face.
 "AHHHHH!"
 "Such a lovely scream." Echthra smiles and continues speaking. "Do you know why I placed my throne here of all places? It is simple: I love being in the center of everything. Hearing the melody of your torture... nothing else could match it."
 "G... Get out of my h-head..."
 "Oh, little maggot, you must remember, I only enact the will of Wrivin. After all, it was she who brought you here to me. She shared with me a dream in which you would serve as my message to the rest of your species. Now, on the subject of the bodies... We use them for several purposes. We feed on them. We experiment with them. Most of all, we create the Web. Do not worry; we never waste valuable material."
 "Y-You... You're sick!" he cries. Echthra laughs.
 "One last act of bravery, perhaps? I can read your mind like a book. You cannot fool me." She drags him to one of her dissecting machines.
 "Wait, no! I'm sorry!"
 "And now," she says, "your heart."
 "NO!"
 Soon, his mangled corpse splashes into a spreading red pool. Echthra sighs. Humans die so easily.
***
 A brilliant object, fiery against the overcast sky, falls at high speed toward the planet's surface. Soon, the object crashes onto the surface. Only two people have witnessed the crash, but they are determined to find the fallen object.
 Dr. Adam Graves and Violet Hallows comb the Scarona beach, collecting pieces of debris from the soft, black sand. What they find could contain vital information about this crash site. Several minutes later, Dr. Graves comes across a ruined white, y-shaped vessel. A symbol he's never seen before is printed on the front panel. The symbol is a circle and inscribed in it are an equilateral triangle point down and three lines of equal length that meet in the center pointing north, southwest, and southeast. He cautiously approaches, unsure of what he may find. The cockpit is already open. He peers inside and finds a girl, who appears to be around fifteen, lying unconscious. He blinks. A human girl? Silently, he contacts Violet by pressing a button on the communicator strapped to his arm. He sits nearby and waits for her to arrive. Violet waves to him as she approaches his location. Once she meets him, she pauses by the vessel.
 "What did you—oh." She peeks inside.
 "Go back to the hovercraft and grab a blanket," Dr. Graves says. Violet nods and does so. When she returns, the two lift the girl out of the wreckage and set her down on the blanket. After making sure the girl is secured, they each grab hold of an end of the blanket and start to walk back to the hovercraft. Once they arrive at the lab, Dr. Graves takes one last look at the overcast sky before turning his attention back to the girl in their hovercraft.
 "It's okay. You're safe now."