909: Story 909: Phantom Rails 909: Story 909: Phantom Rails The railway tracks stretched into infinity beneath a sky full of unnatural stars.
Mira clutched Draven’s arm, her breath visible in the icy air.
Behind them, the ruined town they had barely escaped from was swallowed by swirling mist, the echoes of the Forsaken One’s voice still lingering in their minds.
Ahead, a train screeched to a halt.
Its iron exterior was rusted, its windows clouded with gri.
A single lantern swung near the engine, casting sickly yellow light on the skeletal conductor in a tattered uniform.
The Ghoul Trainmaster.
He tipped his hat with a clawed hand.
“Tickets, please.”
Draven exchanged a wary glance with Mira.
They had no tickets.
They barely had their lives.
The Trainmaster’s hollow eyes glead with dark amusent.
“No fare?
No matter.
The Rotting King covers the toll for special passengers.”
Draven tightened his grip on his shotgun.
“Not interested.”
“Oh, but you are,” the Ghoul Trainmaster said, his grin stretching unnaturally wide.
“Your nas are already in the ledger.”
Behind them, the fog stirred.
The Hollow Man’s presence lood just beyond sight.
They were out of ti.
Mira swallowed her fear and stepped forward.
“Where does this train go?”
The Trainmaster leaned closer, his breath reeking of decay.
“To where the dead still whisper… and the living lose their way.”
The train doors hissed open.
Inside, figures sat in eerie stillness.
Passengers who had not breathed for years—yet still waited.
A low growl rumbled from behind.
The mist thickened.
Draven clenched his jaw.
“We don’t have a choice.”
Mira nodded, and together, they stepped aboard.
The doors slamd shut.
The train shuddered, tal screeching as it lurched forward into the abyss.
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