Story 994: Gravebound and Glory-Touched

The Final Train roared through a sky torn open by the wrath of cursed dimensions. Its tracks hung in midair, stitched to stars by forgotten spells. Inside, the survivors sat in heavy silence. The Forsaken Girl, no longer frail, stared through the window with burning eyes that saw beyond time.

Draven Cross stood near the conductor’s door, one hand gripping the hilt of his rusted machete, the other clutching the photograph of his fallen brother. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“To the Gravebound Citadel,” the girl answered. “Where the Rotting King waits. Where the Book’s spine was first cracked.”

As she spoke, the cabin shifted. Shadows peeled from the walls like old skin, forming specters of the past—the first necromancers, failed experiments, lost souls. One appeared in Mira’s seat—a twisted mockery of her younger self in a lab coat, whispering formulas in a loop.

Mira closed her eyes. “They're memories… warnings.”

Then the lights went out.