Platform District - Station Interior
06:25 PM - Jan 14, 2534
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The cold in the stalled car has turned carnivorous. Every breath leaves a cloudy smear in the air before dissolving into the iron-dark chill that creeps in through every seam of the battered vehicle. The chemical heater sputters weakly on its last breath, giving off less warmth and more false hope. Metal contracts with soft pops, condensation trickles down the walls, and everyone is shivering hard enough to rattle the benches.
Calyx snaps first.
She's been pacing the cramped aisle for minutes, her boots tapping out a restless, angry rhythm. Her breath fogs in sharp bursts. She stops dead in the center of the car, shoulders tense, voice cracking with frustration. "We can't stay here. I'm serious, we can't."
"The last time you moved, you almost died. We wait on our big strong men to get this done." Rhea says, more an insult than anything.
Evin scoffs. "What are you trying to say?" He asks and Rhea raises an eyebrow.
"Tovin's turning blue, and if we keep waiting for someone to magically fix this, we're basically murdering him by doing nothing." Calyx interrupts.
Mariel clutches Tovin closer, the blankets rustling as she tucks him in tighter. Her eyes are rimmed red. Evin looks up sharply at his daughter, hearing the fear beneath her anger.
Rhea rakes both hands through her hair, exhaling through her teeth. "Calyx, slow down. The fog's thick enough out there to hide an entire pack of tigers. You step off this car without a plan, you're just—" she gestures vaguely, voice fraying, "—bait."
"Staying here's worse than bait!" Calyx shoots back. "You can practically feel the temperature dropping. Look at him." She points, her hands shaking. "He's barely breathing."
Mariel's response is barely audible. "She's right. He feels colder than before. Something's... something's wrong."
Thora, who has been standing by the door like a stone sentinel, uncrosses her arms. Her breath forms a soft halo around her face as she steps forward. She reaches out and taps Evin's shoulder to get his eyes on her, then signs quickly, sharply. Hands slicing the air with clipped precision. The meaning lands instantly in her expression: We wait, we die. The cold wins first.
Rhea lets out a low groan and glares at Thora as if the message itself is a betrayal. "Thanks. Perfect. Love the optimism."
Thora replies with a firm flick of her fingers, a gesture tinged with dry irritation. Rhea rolls her eyes hard enough to creak.
Evin crouches beside Tovin, peeling back the edge of a blanket. The baby's lips show that faint, terrifying shade of blue. It guts him. He draws a slow breath, bracing himself like a man preparing to break a sacred rule. "He's slipping. We don't have the luxury of sitting still."
Rhea mutters, "Unbelievable," as she yanks open a pack. "Fine. Sure. Let's take a scenic walk through the murder-fog."
Calyx doesn't wait for permission. She lunges for her pack, hooking it over her shoulder with a tight, desperate motion. "Finally."
Evin straightens, resolve settling heavy around him. "Get ready. We move fast. We stay close."
Thora signs again, slower this time, making sure everyone can follow: I'll take point. She taps her own chest, then gestures outward, a cutting line through the fog-filled air.
Rhea huffs. "Great. We're being led by a human shadow. That'll go well."
Thora responds by pointing two fingers at her own eyes, then at Rhea, with a deadpan expression that clearly reads: Try to keep up.
Calyx steps to the heavy sliding door, plants her feet, and yanks. The ancient metal screeches against the rails, a metallic scream that echoes through the fog outside. A gust of freezing mist floods the car. Everyone flinches instinctively.
"Careful—" Evin starts.
But Calyx is already leaning out into the swirling white, breath merging with the fog as if the world is swallowing her silhouette.
After a long, tense moment, she calls back, voice steadier than she feels. "It's quiet. No tracks. No movement." Her fingers tighten on the door's edge. "This is as good as it's gonna get."
The cold rushes in deeper, brushing against everyone like a warning... or permission to move.
And the world waits for the first step.
The sight hits them like a weight dropped from the sky. Dense winter fog hangs over the bridge and wraps the world in a pale, choking blanket. The light has nowhere to go, so it just swells inside the haze, making everything ghostly and close. The wind slashes through the gap and claws at their coats, carrying the sharp bite of pine from the distant treeline mixed with the raw, metallic stench rising off the industrial river far below.
"It's clear," Calyx says as she yanks the door wider. Cold air barrels into the carriage and stings her eyes. She shudders but keeps the door open. "Let's go. Thora, you with me?"
Thora answers with a small nod, her expression carved from stone. She lifts her pulse-sling to her shoulder, steady as a statue. She signs a clipped, ready motion. Always.
She steps toward the threshold, prepared to drop into the grayness and vanish into the fog. Calyx plants one boot on the exterior step right behind her.
The fog shifts.
It doesn't drift or glide. It tears open, violent and sudden, like someone grabbed the fabric of the world and ripped a hole in it. And behind it, thirty feet away at the start of the bridge, something enormous heaves into view.
Calyx stops breathing. Her hand curls instinctively around the metal frame of the door.
It comes forward, staggering. A nightmare hauled up from some riverbed grave. The second Tenebris Tiger. Its massive body drips sheets of river water and stringy filth that slap against the ballast rocks with each heavy step. Its sleek black hide is plastered with weeds, mud, and shredded reeds, so it looks less like a living creature and more like a nightmare silhouette sculpted from oil and steel.
Its head hangs low. Its motions come in jerks and lurches, like muscles firing out of order. A harsh, broken rumble grinds out of its chest. Not a roar. Something ruined. Something dying.
Mariel's hand flies to her mouth. She clutches Tovin to her chest so tightly his little squeak is swallowed by her fear. "God, no. No. It's back. It's back." Her voice is thin and breaking, the last rope of calm she had finally fraying.
Rhea stumbles against the wall, eyes wide. "Jesus Christ. I told you. I told you this was fucking stupid. I shouldn't have listened to any of you!" She kicks over the lumen lamp in her panic, flinching when it clatters but thankfully keeps burning.
Thora doesn't move an inch, but her posture turns iron-solid. She braces the pulse-sling tight against her shoulder, eyes narrowed behind the fogged visor. Her fingers flick short, sharp signs. Ready. Hold steady.
Calyx stands frozen on the step, her breath hitching in her throat. Her face twists with terror and guilt all tangled together. "I can't move. It's right there. It's too damn big. I shouldn't've opened the door. I shouldn't've—"
The tiger takes two halting steps closer, paws sliding slightly on the slick tie. Its chest shudders. Its sides tremble. Something inside it sounds like broken gears grinding against waterlogged stone.
Then the beast falters. Its legs buckle. The enormous body tilts and slams into the ground in a wet, bone-deep thud that echoes along the steel rails. Its skull-heavy head lifts once, dragging a rattling breath into its ruined lungs. A garbled sound escapes. Then the head drops like dead weight.
Its breathing stutters. Slows. Stops.
The fog swallows the silence.
The tiger lies sprawled across the bridge approach, its dark bulk slumped barely five feet from the railcar's doorway. The sheer size of it blocks the entire exit like nature's most horrifying barricade.
Thora lowers her weapon at last and clicks the safety into place. Her breath slips out in a long cloud. She signs slowly, hands steady again. One less monster to track.
Evin drags Calyx back inside with a shaky exhale and slams the door shut. His chest rises and falls in frantic waves. "Thank the heavens. Holy hell. I thought..." He doesn't finish. He can't.
Rhea lets out a harsh scoff and wipes a trembling hand over her mouth. "Yeah, well, maybe it just died at the right time for us. Great. Fantastic. Except we're stuck behind a corpse the size of a damn house. What now, Evin? How do you want us to get out?"
Mariel sinks onto the nearest crate with Tovin bundled close, rocking him gently even though she's the one shaking. "Lucky or not," she murmurs, "we have to move. Tovin can't wait. None of us can."
The fog presses in again, thick and unwelcoming, as everyone stares at the fallen titan blocking their path forward. The air feels colder than before. The bridge feels narrower. And that fresh silence feels like a held breath from the world itself, waiting to see what they dare to do next.
Calyx presses a trembling hand to the window and stares out at the hulking shadow sprawled across the bridge. The fog turns the thing into a monstrous smear of black against the pale world. "Then we climb over it," she says, voice cracking with adrenaline. "I don't care if it reeks. I'm not sitting in here waiting for another one to crawl out of nowhere."
Thora snorts under her breath as she holsters the pulse-sling. She signs sharply, her movements quick and aggravated. Climb over that. That corpse is heavier than this whole car. Its claws probably still got nerves firing. That thing is the size of a baby freight container.
Mariel pushes forward, her urgency sharpening her tone. "It's dead. We can't go back. The derailed cart behind us crushed half the track and the rest is hanging by wires. The only path is across the bridge, which means past that body. So yes, we climb it."
Evin crouches at the door, raising the lumen lamp to the small gap between the frame and the frozen jamb. The thin beam lands right on the dead beast's broken shape. The tiger's flank rises like a small hill directly against the step. Getting over it would mean stepping onto a slick coat covered in blood, dead muscle, and God knows what else, and then hauling Tovin across the top like a bundle of laundry. His face twists. "We can't risk someone slipping. I'm not touching that thing. I swear, this is the most revolting situation I've ever lived through. We need a way to shove it aside just enough to make space. A few inches. Anything."
Rhea's expression brightens with a flicker of grim inspiration. She points at the heavy coupler hitch near the back. "The emergency winch. It's meant for pulling disabled cars off the line. If it's not completely dead, it could drag that thing a foot or two. Maybe more."
"The winch runs off the main battery," Evin fires back. His defensiveness comes quick, like he's already bracing to be volunteered. "That battery is probably drained or the line got cut when we jerked to a stop. And even if it works, who's supposed to go out there and clip a cable around that corpse? That thing looks like it died angry."
Mariel fixes him with a stare so sharp it might cut rope. "You are. You're the heaviest. You're the one who got out of its jaws alive. If anyone can handle this, it's you."
Thora moves toward the rear compartment where the coupler controls sit inside a frost-caked recess. She signs curtly. We try the winch. If it works, great. If it doesn't, we climb. What we are not doing is arguing until nightfall.
Evin mutters something that sounds close to a prayer and a curse at the same time. "Fine. Whatever. The things I do for a damn roof over my head." He pushes himself upright with stiff determination. "Alright. Thora, Rhea, you're on the controls. Mariel, keep Tovin wrapped and away from the draft. Calyx, your job is lookout. You see anything twitch out there, you scream like hell." He grabs the kinetic stun rod, which is pitiful compared to the dead titan outside, but better than bare hands.
The next thirty minutes grind by like punishment. The winch housing is stiff, frozen, and refuses to move until Thora digs her gloved hands into the edges of the mechanism and forces it open. Rhea works beside her with a kind of frantic efficiency, slapping ice off the latch, prying open the access panel, and leaning her full weight on a lever that squeals like a dying machine. Finally, with a deep metallic thunk, the coupler arm unfolds and locks into a ready position.
"The battery is dead," Thora reports, sweat already glistening at her hairline despite the cold air. She signs with a frustrated flick. No current. No power. Manual crank.
Evin digs into the emergency kit and retrieves the segmented crank handle. It's heavy and built for brute strength rather than finesse. "We'll have to do it by hand. But first we need the tow cable." He jerks his chin toward Calyx.
She grabs the thick, rubber-coated cable and holds it out to him. "You're seriously going out there? You're actually going to touch it?"
Mariel's eyes flick from the cable to the door. "Evin, that thing is fresh dead. It's still warm. You could feel it breathing and not even realize."
"I don't have a choice," Evin says, and he sounds like a man dragging himself toward his own execution. "Just keep the light low and don't shout unless I'm actually being eaten."
He cracks the door open again. The wind punches into the railcar like an angry spirit. He squeezes through, boots crunching over frozen ballast. The smell hits him instantly, thick and brutal. Blood mixed with river mud. Musk. Wet fur. Decay already threatening.
The tiger's body is a mountain. Up close, every detail is worse: the torn hide, the twisted claws, the glazed eye staring at nothing. Evin's breath goes shallow and tight, his face flushing purple as he tries not to inhale.
He moves quickly. He loops the tow cable around the enormous front paw, cinching it tight against the joint. He tugs hard. It holds. Good enough. He bolts back inside before his lungs give out.
Once he threads the cable through the guide and locks it to the crank shaft, the real ordeal begins.
Thora takes the first turn. Her arms flex hard. Creeeak. Thunk. Creeeak. Thunk. Each rotation sounds like wrestling a frozen beast made of metal and ice. After a grueling series of turns, the cable tightens.
"It's holding," Rhea gasps as she watches the drum. "But nothing's moving."
Evin shoulders her aside and takes over. He pours his whole weight into the crank. Creeeak. Thunk. His teeth grind. His arms shake. Creeeak. Thunk.
Then, a faint sound. Not the crank. A low scrape through the fog.
"It's shifting," Mariel whispers, peeking through the crack with a trembling hand.
They take turns, switching every time someone's arms threaten to give out. The winch groans like a dying creature. The cable hums with tension. The dead tiger digs trenches in the ballast as its massive body drags sideways inch by inch.
The fog thins, thickens, and swirls again during the process, as if the world itself is holding its breath.
Finally, after what must be an hour, the last deep scrape resonates through the carriage floor.
Thora leans to the window and nods once. Her hands lift. Clear enough to get through.
They all stare at the narrow path created beside the monstrous corpse. It's not convenient. It's not safe. But it exists.
Evin stumbles backward until his spine taps the metal wall with a hollow clang. He drags in a ragged breath, his chest heaving like he has just wrestled a living beast instead of a dead one. Sweat beads along his hairline and freezes almost immediately, leaving tiny, glinting crystals across his forehead. "That's it," he pants, voice trembling with exhaustion and relief. "That's... that's it. We've got a gap. It's tight, but it's there. Thora, you go first. We're moving now."
He stares at the narrow opening they carved out. It looks like a wound in the world, a sliver of mud and frost squeezed between the metal steps and the slack, hulking body lying beside them. The tiger's flank is still glossy where blood hasn't frozen yet. It's disgusting. It's nauseating. It's their only way out.
Thora steps forward. She checks the pulse-sling with practiced efficiency, fingers tightening a strap, adjusting the barrel, confirming the safety. Her eyes meet Evin's and she gives a short nod. Then she signs with sharp, clean movements. I will scout ahead. Stay close. Stay together.
She slips out through the door and disappears into the fog. Her silhouette melts into the white haze until all that remains is the faint, drifting glow of her lumen strap bobbing in the dark.
Evin turns to Mariel. "Alright. Let's get him settled." His voice softens, the exhaustion giving way to a shaky tenderness. They work quickly, looping blankets around her torso and securing Tovin in the makeshift sling resting against her back. The baby gives a weak fussing sound, too cold to properly cry. Mariel presses her hand against his side, as if she can warm him by force of will.
"Don't look down," Evin murmurs. He tucks her collar up against her neck, adjusting it with numb fingers. "Don't look at the body. Just keep your eyes on Thora's light. That's all you follow."
Mariel nods, though her breath hitches. Tears spill and freeze at her lashes. "I won't," she whispers. "Just get us across. Just get him out of here."
Calyx steps up behind them, her posture straight and bracing. The earlier terror has burned off into a fierce, jittering determination. Her cheeks are blotched pink from the cold, her eyes bright with the stubborn fire of someone too young to understand surrender. "I'm right here," she says, gripping the strap of her pack. "I'm ready. Let's just go before that thing starts looking fresh again."
The fog whistles through the narrowing crack in the door as Evin pulls it wider, just enough for Mariel to slip through. Rhea follows with a muttered curse, checking her weapon more times than necessary. Calyx moves after them, stepping out last before Evin takes the rear position.
The moment Evin pulls the sliding door shut, it slams with a cold, metallic thud that echoes up and down the empty line. The noise rolls into the fog and disappears, swallowed by the winter air.
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