The train never stops. To stop is to die.
The wheels thundered beneath Elias Graves, a steady rhythm that had always been a comfort. Tonight, it felt heavier, like the train itself was dragging something unseen along the tracks. Outside, the darkness stretched endlessly, its silence broken only by the faint screech of wind against the carriages. Somewhere out there, monsters waited, patient and hungry.
Elias leaned against the wall of his cramped cabin, pencil in hand, staring at the frayed edges of his notebook. The map he'd drawn was a mess of smudged lines and forgotten junctions, a pointless exercise that had more to do with keeping his mind occupied than charting any real course. His pencil hovered, then dropped with a soft thud to the floor. He didn't pick it up.
A cough echoed through the train.
Elias straightened, his chest tightening. It was wet and guttural, the kind of cough that grabbed and didn't let go. Another followed, louder this time, then a faint thud. His breath quickened. For days, there had been murmurs among the crew—throats felt dry, heads heavy—but nothing like this. Nothing that had sounded so final.
He moved into the corridor, the train's sway pulling at his balance. Lanterns hung overhead, their flickering light casting uneven shadows along the narrow metal walls. The sound of labored breathing grew louder as he approached the dining carriage. He hesitated at the door.
Inside, Maren, one of the crew, sat slumped at a table. Her face was pale, her lips cracked and flecked with blood. She coughed again, her whole body shaking with the effort, and collapsed against the table. Around her, others sat hunched, their faces hollow and clammy, their breaths uneven.
"What the hell happened?" Elias's voice cracked, the words sharper than he intended.
The doctor, Hal, knelt beside Maren, pressing a damp cloth to her forehead. His hands shook. "Came on too fast," he muttered. "Fever, weakness… coughing blood. Never seen anything like this."
Elias's throat felt tight. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't a leader, wasn't a doctor, wasn't anything.
"Panicking won't help anyone," came a calm voice from behind him.
Elias turned. Kael leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smirk on their lips. They stepped inside, moving with the kind of confidence that didn't belong here. In one smooth motion, they crouched beside Maren and offered her a sip from a flask.
"We need to keep moving," Kael said, their voice steady. "Monsters love a stationary meal."
The words settled over the carriage like a heavy fog. And then, faint and far away, Elias heard it—a howl. It rose and fell with the wind, barely audible but enough to send a chill racing down his spine. His stomach clenched.
Kael met his eyes. "Hear that?"
He nodded.
"Then get to the engine room."
The engine room always felt alive, but tonight, it felt restless. The hum of the magic core filled the air, vibrating through the walls, the floor, his chest. The faint blue glow seeped through every crack, pulsing like a heartbeat. Elias hesitated at the threshold, staring at the core's casing. The whispers were there again—soft and insistent, clawing at the edges of his thoughts.
He stepped inside, the heat hitting him like a wall. The core hung suspended in its housing, a sphere of light and shadow that seemed too fragile to hold so much power. Its glow flickered like a dying flame, casting jagged shadows across the room. The whispers grew louder as he approached, not words but emotions—frustration, anger, defiance.
"Come on," Elias whispered, his voice trembling. He placed a hand on the core's casing, the metal cool despite the heat in the room. "I don't know what you want from me."
The core flared, its light bright and searing. Images flooded his mind: shadows writhing in the dark, the grind of steel against stone, a glowing symbol carved into ancient walls. His knees buckled, and he stumbled back, his head pounding as the whispers rose to a crescendo.
The train shuddered, the hum of the engine sputtering.
"No, no, no," Elias muttered, stumbling forward again. His fingers tightened on the casing, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "Please, just work. I don't know what else to do."
For a moment, everything stopped. The core's glow steadied, and the whispers softened to a faint murmur. Then, with a sudden jolt, the train roared back to life, its wheels screeching against the rails. Elias fell to his knees, his chest heaving, the image of the glowing symbol burned into his mind.
When he staggered out of the engine room, Kael was waiting in the corridor, arms crossed, their expression unreadable.
"Took you long enough," they said, their tone almost teasing. Then their eyes hardened. "You're the operator now, whether you like it or not. This train? These people? They're your responsibility."
Elias didn't answer. He pushed past them, the weight of their words pressing down on him like the heat of the engine room.
Back in his cabin, the lantern flickered overhead, casting uneven shadows along the walls. Elias sat on the edge of his bed, his hands still trembling. The faint hum of the core echoed through the train, steady and relentless.
And then the whispers returned. Softer now, but clear. This time, they formed a single word: *Run.*