The warmth of resolve that Emily had felt only moments ago began to dissipate as a strange sensation overtook her. The brightness of the clearing faded, and before she could register what was happening, her surroundings blurred into motion. It felt as though she was being pulled through space, her body weightless and her mind disoriented.
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the clearing but seated on a narrow wooden bench. The air was thick with the metallic tang of old steel and coal. A rhythmic clattering reverberated through her ears as the scenery outside passed in a blur of dim landscapes and flickering lights.
Emily found herself on a train.
The carriage was aged but polished, with brass fixtures and dim lanterns that swayed slightly with the train's motion. She was in the last carriage, where a large glass window offered an uninterrupted view of the tracks stretching into the impenetrable darkness behind them.
Around her sat three other passengers. They weren't like the everyday commuters she might have encountered back in her world. These people exuded an eerie calm, each draped in dark clothing that seemed too perfect, too polished, like something out of an old photograph.
"Ravenswood Railway," one of them muttered. It was a man with sharp features and piercing grey eyes. He leaned back against his seat, his expression neutral. "The last stop between then and now."
Emily blinked at him, unsure of how to respond. Did he know she was there?
Before she could ask, the woman sitting across from him—a tall figure with a sharp bob and red lips—spoke in a smooth, measured voice. "No one should ever go back in time. It's not natural. The ripples are unavoidable, no matter how small your steps. Even a butterfly's wing flap can topple kingdoms."
"But what if you have to?" the third passenger asked, his tone light but curious. He was younger than the others, with round glasses and an air of casual confidence. "What if staying in the present isn't enough? What if the past is the only way to fix things?"
"Fix?" the woman scoffed, her red lips curling into a faint sneer. "There is no fixing. Only altering. And alterations come with consequences. Unforeseen, irreversible."
The conversation flowed around Emily like a current, pulling her in despite her confusion. She felt like an intruder, a silent observer in their cryptic discussion.
The man with gray eyes leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the younger one. "The problem isn't what you change. It's what you *unleash*."
Emily shifted uncomfortably. The word lingered in the air, heavy with meaning she didn't fully understand.
Suddenly, the young man turned his head toward her, his gaze locking onto hers with unsettling intensity. "You're not here to change things, are you?"
Her breath hitched. The question felt too direct, too pointed.
"I… I don't even know why I'm here," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
The three exchanged knowing glances before the woman spoke again. "Then you'd best close your eyes. If the rumours are true, you don't want to see what's out there."
"What rumours?" Emily asked, but her voice was drowned out by the growing sound of the train's wheels screeching against the tracks.
"The railway is cursed," the grey-eyed man said bluntly. "They say it takes your soul if you stare too long into the darkness."
The young man leaned back, his casual demeanour returning. "Of course, it could just be a story. But why take the risk?"
The woman closed her eyes, and the others followed suit. Emily hesitated, her gaze flicking between them and the large window at the back of the carriage. The darkness beyond seemed to writhe and pulse, as though alive.
Reluctantly, she shut her eyes, her hands gripping the edge of the bench. The train continued its relentless journey, the sounds of the wheels now accompanied by something else—whispers, faint and unintelligible, yet undeniably real.
And then she saw them.
Even with her eyes closed, she could see dark auras seeping into the carriage, swirling around the passengers. They were shadowy, humanoid shapes with hollow voids where their faces should have been. The figures moved closer, their presence suffocating, their whispers growing louder.
Emily clenched her fists, willing herself to remain still. But the darkness pressed against her, tugging at her, trying to seep into her very being.
"Don't look," the woman's voice came, sharp and commanding, though her lips never moved.
Emily squeezed her eyes shut tighter, her breathing ragged. The figures didn't retreat; they loomed closer, their whispers now a cacophony.
And then, as suddenly as it began, the train lurched to a stop.
Emily's eyes snapped open. The carriage was empty. The three passengers were gone, leaving no trace of their presence. The train itself was eerily silent, the only sound the faint hum of the lanterns swaying above.
The back window was cracked, the view beyond it now obscured by thick, black mist.
Panic rose within her. She scrambled to her feet, her instincts screaming at her to escape. She stumbled toward the nearest door, but before she could reach it, the mist began to seep into the carriage, curling around her ankles like tendrils.
A sudden weightlessness overtook her, and the world around her dissolved into darkness.
---
Emily woke to the sound of rhythmic beeping. Her body felt heavy, her limbs unresponsive. She blinked slowly, her vision adjusting to the harsh fluorescent lights above her.
She was in a hospital room.
Her mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened. The train, the shadows, the whispers—it all felt so real. But now she was here, tethered to reality by the steady beep of the heart monitor by her bedside.
The door opened, and George stepped in, carrying a small bouquet of daisies. His expression was a mixture of relief and exhaustion.
"You're awake," he said softly, setting the flowers on the table by her bed.
Emily tried to sit up, but her body protested. "How… how long have I been here?"
George hesitated before answering. "A year."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. "A year?"
"You've been in a coma," he explained, his voice tinged with guilt. "The doctors said there was no way to know if you'd wake up. But I couldn't give up on you."
Tears pricked her eyes as she processed his words. A year of her life, gone in an instant.
George pulled up a chair and sat beside her, his expression turning serious. "I've been covering your hospital fees. It's… it's been tough, but I managed. I even had to take a case I wasn't sure about, but it paid off."
She saw the strain etched into his face, the weight of responsibility he had shouldered for her. Gratitude and guilt warred within her.
"I don't know how to thank you," she said, her voice trembling.
"You don't have to," he replied with a faint smile. "Just focus on getting better. That's all I care about."
As the room fell into a contemplative silence, Emily's mind drifted back to the train, the shadows, and the ominous warnings of the passengers. Her journey wasn't over. She could feel it in her bones.
For now, though, she would rest.