Story 922: Hell’s Crossing

The Ghoul Train rattled violently as it approached its next destination. The world outside the windows had twisted into something impossible—a landscape of charred ruins, floating in an abyss of swirling shadows. Jagged iron spires jutted from the ground like the ribs of a dead god.

Mira’s knuckles whitened around the Cursed Book. “Where the hell are we?”

Elias wiped blood from his temple, glancing at the spectral train map flickering on the wall. The only readable words burned in a sickly red glow:

NEXT STOP: HELL'S CROSSING

Zara groaned as she steadied herself. “That’s not ominous at all.”

Draven checked his shotgun. “Whatever’s waiting for us there, it’s bad.”

The train screeched, slowing as it reached a rusted platform. No people. No signs of life. Just towering gates wrapped in heavy chains. The air smelled of ash and rotting flesh.

The Ghoul Trainmaster’s voice slithered over the intercom.

“Passengers, please disembark. Your next trial awaits.”