What was that?an earthquake? Nuriel stood up, gripping his briefcase with one hand while steadying himself on the table with the other.
He watched the car sway slowly from side to side. Through the small glass panel in the door connecting to the other cars, he saw the cars in front and behind moving at different intervals, creating a hypnotizing wave. The other passengers also stood up, their fearful expressions mirroring their worries.
Edward's voice broke the tension. "Something's wrong, I can feel it." He scanned the surroundings with sharp eyes. "I'm no physicist, but I doubt it's an earthquake. It's too strong and too short. Something must have happened at the back of the train, see?"
He pointed toward the window. The train was still moving at its usual pace. Outside, the dark forest flashed past, moonlight glinting off green leaves like a stuttering camera shutter.
Edward continued, "We're still moving, not slowing down. At least we haven't been detached. One of the cars behind us must have had its coupling broken."
"May the Witch bless them then," Sayla said softly, her voice full of sympathy as she muttered a quick prayer.
Edward nodded in agreement but quickly returned to his speculation. "Or maybe it was a large roadkill. But I doubt any animal is stupid enough to run into a wall of death. Either way, something crashing into the train is a likely explana—"
BOOM!
In the blink of an eye, their bodies lifted slightly off the floor. Lamps flickered violently, and sharp utensils flew through the air at deadly angles.
A large section of the train derailed. The cars tored off from their tracks, crashing onto the gravel beside them. Thanks to the railway's safety standards, the cars didn't plunge into the dense forest.
Sliding harshly across the gravel, the cars lost their paint and exterior from the brutal impact. Slowly, they came to a stop. The warm lights glowing from the windows flickered weakly before fading into darkness.
***
In the locomotive, the crew gathered themselves amid the chaos. The dim emergency light cast grim expressions across their faces, shadows warping their features into something uncanny.
Being at the front spared them from the worst of the derailment, but their training left no room for rest. Without needing orders, they grabbed gas lamps and stepped out into the night, ready to search for and assist passengers.
The conductor lifted his forehead from the iron machinery. Too old and frail to fully resist the inertia of the crash, he had slammed headfirst into the engine's controls. But like any seasoned worker, he shook off the pain, rubbing his bruised brow as he recollected his thoughts.
A junior crewman approached, hand outstretched. "Sir, take it easy—"
"Oh, please… I'm not that old. Have you telegraphed Owhen City?"
The younger man's expression turned grim. "No, sir. It's broken."
"The magic communicator?"
. . .
"That too, sir…"
The conductor sighed, then slammed his forehead with his fist. "Check the floor. There's a compartment with emergency flares."
The junior scrambled, patting the floor clumsily in the low light. The sight made the conductor wince. Shoving the lad aside, he dragged his own hand steadily across the metal floor, tracing lines he had memorized long ago. As a veteran worker, he could've done it blind. Moments later, his fingers halted.
Click.
After the resounding noise, panel rose slightly, revealing the emergency flares. The junior pried it open and reached for a flare gun and ammo, but the conductor stopped him.
"They're too small. Grab the flare mortar instead. I'll carry the rounds."
Stepping outside, the cold night breeze bit into their skin, clearing their minds and enhancing their focus. The junior struggled with the setup, prompting another self inflicted forehead strike from the conductor. He shoved the younger man aside and set the mortar in seconds.
Crack.
"Damn it! The stand's broken!" He grit his teeth. "I'll hold it, grab a round with a red stripe. I trust your young eyes can see them better."
The junior obeyed, searching a sack containing various mortar rounds, afrer finding one that fit the description he cradled the round with both hands. He stared blankly at the conductor, who, with both hands occupied, was mercifully unable to strike his own forehead again.
"Didn't they teach—oh, for the love of our Witch," the conductor muttered. "Grab the sides. Tail down the barrel. Drop! it. Then get away and duck. After that, count twenty seconds then fire another red round. Then, after another twenty, fire a yellow round. Wait two minutes, then repeat. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
The junior followed the instructions precisely, dropping the red-striped round and diving for cover. With a thunderous bang, the mortar fired. A red light burst into the night sky, bathing the dark forest in blood-colored brilliance.
***
Nuriel lifted himself from the dirty floor, half of his vision was now blurry, noticing the shattered lens of his glasses, panic flared in his chest, had he injured his eye? He blinked rapidly to confirm something, He sighed in relief. Not a pirate, then.
He reached for his briefcase beside him and retrieved a spare of glasses, sliding them onto his face and brushing debris from his suit. Before he could fully gather himself, Edward approached, surprisingly alert despite the crash.
"Let me help you. The stewards are escorting everyone off the train," Edward said, pulling Nuriel toward him, the two nearly colliding.
"Is your sister alright?" Nuriel asked.
Edward's mouth twitched ever so slightly upwards. "Nuriel, honestly, I don't mind being your brother."
Nuriel stared at him, expression blank with disbelief. How could he joke at a time like this? Catching the look, Edward cleared his throat and spoke with sincerity.
"She's outside with the rest. Let's go."
Stepping out of the wreck, Nuriel shivered from the cold night wind that swept over him. He stifled a sneeze. All around, groups of passengers stood gathered in the darkness, lit faintly by the glow of gaslamps held by the stewards. Despite having seen so few passengers on his walk to the dining car, the crowd now felt overwhelming.
Some knelt on the ground, weeping and praying. Others smoked quietly, their lighters flashing orange across grim, pale faces.
Nuriel glanced at the wreckage behind him. Their car remained upright—but the ones behind it were not so lucky. Some lay overturned, others collapsed on their sides like discarded toys.
In the distance, near the tail, he saw a commotion being stirred.
He moved to investigate, but Edward and Sayla intercepted him.
"Going somewhere? Did you see something?" Edward asked, gripping Nuriel's shoulder. His face showed the same curiosity and fear.
"Me too," Sayla added. "I don't think this is anything natural."
Walking toward the tail of the train, a soft crimson light quietly emerged behind them, casting a hazy silhouette ahead.
"Good," Edward said, walking backwards to watch it. "Help should be on the way." But in his thoughts, the blood-red light only deepened the dreadful atmosphere.
When they arrived, the sight froze them. A car near the end had been ripped open, a massive crater gouged into its side. Whatever had struck it must have been immense. Their eyes darted away instinctively, unwilling to process the image.
"I saw it! It was a giant beast—"
One of the passengers thrashed against a steward trying to tend to his wounds.
"Calm down, man! Just let me bandage you!"
Sayla stepped in, kneeling before the distraught man. "Allow me," she said gently, placing a hand on his face. In seconds, his tense body relaxed, his eyes fluttered closed, and he slumped into peaceful sleep.
The crowd nearby murmured in awe. Some clasped their hands and began to pray.
Not wasting a moment, Sayla turned to one of the stewards. "Tell your coworkers to keep the passengers close together. Bring out every gaslamp you have and surround the area with light."
Her blue eyes shimmered against the crimson atmosphere, her voice calm but seductive. The steward stared for a moment, almost entranced.
"Praise the Witch," he whispered, then ran to spread her orders.
Sayla returned to Nuriel and Edward, her face dark with worry. "It's a fallen creature. I'm sure of it."
Both men tensed. Edward's brow dampened with sweat. "How much time do we have before it attacks again?"
"Too many factors," Sayla said, rubbing her temples. "We can only hope the light and the crowd will be enough to keep it in the shadows until help arrives." She exhaled deeply, her breath trembling in the cold night.