The door creaked open into soft light. Not darkness. Not blood. Light.
For the first time, Evelyn didn't feel cold. The air smelled of rain and woodsmoke—like home.
She blinked, the sudden warmth almost painful. The carriage wasn't twisted metal or living flesh. It was… her street. Her old neighborhood. Houses lined up in perfect rows beneath a crimson sunset.
Her heart skipped. "No…" she whispered. "No, this isn't real."
But it looked so real. The cracked sidewalk. The tree she used to climb. Even the faint whistle of wind that always came before a storm.
Then she saw them.
Sophie was sitting on the curb, tying her shoes like she used to before school. Alex leaned against a lamppost, grinning, his jacket torn the same way it was the night they boarded the train. And Leo—Leo stood by the corner store, arms crossed, that half-smile back on his face.
For a second, Evelyn forgot to breathe.
She ran toward them, her lantern clutched tight. "Sophie! Alex! Leo!"
They looked up in perfect unison. And smiled.
"You made it," Sophie said, her voice soft and bright."Took you long enough," Alex added with a laugh.Leo's tone was calm. "We told you you'd survive."
Her throat tightened. "You're not real," she said, shaking her head. "You can't be."
Sophie stood and stepped closer, her eyes too perfect, too empty. "Why not, Evelyn? You miss us. You wanted to see us again. So here we are."
The lantern in Evelyn's hand flickered, dimming. Her body ached with the pull of it—the longing, the comfort. To rest. To stop running.
But then she saw it. The street was wrong. The sunset wasn't fading—it was bleeding. The sky dripped red like an open wound, and beneath the pavement, veins pulsed faintly.
Evelyn stepped back, trembling. "You're not them. You're the train."
Alex tilted his head, smiling wider. "Does it matter? We can be whatever you want us to be."
Leo's voice deepened, warped. "Stay. Rest. You've earned it."
Sophie reached for her hand. "Don't fight anymore."
Evelyn's tears fell hot down her cheeks. "I can't. I want to. But if I stop, you die for real."
She lifted the lantern. The flame guttered weakly—until one tear hit the glass. It flared bright, blinding white.
"I love you," she whispered, voice breaking. "But you're gone. And I'm still fighting."
The light erupted, tearing through the illusion. The sky screamed as it split open, the false world burning away in fire and smoke.
When the light faded, Evelyn stood alone again—in a carriage of ash.
Her hands shook, but her flame still burned.
She whispered into the silence, voice trembling but certain:"You'll have to try harder."
The train rumbled beneath her feet. And somewhere deep within its endless body… it growled.