Story 986: The Rotting King’s Land

The train screeched to a halt.

Outside, the world was wrong.

A thick yellow fog rolled across the wasteland, rising from cracked earth littered with bones. The sky was a sickly green, swirling with black clouds that didn’t move naturally. Twisted, half-rotten structures stretched into the distance—remnants of a city that had died long ago.

The Ghoul Trainmaster tipped his hat. “End of the line, friends. Welcome to the kingdom of the Rotting King.”

Mira stepped forward cautiously, her grip tightening on the cursed book. “And where do we find him?”

The Trainmaster grinned. “Oh, he’ll find you.”

Then, the train vanished.

The second the survivors stepped off, the train faded into mist, leaving them stranded. The wind howled, carrying the sound of moaning voices.

Zara turned, machete drawn. “I hate this already.”

Elias adjusted his coat, scanning the horizon. “Keep your guard up. Nothing about this place feels real.”