The rhythmic clatter of the wheels lulled the passengers to sleep one by one. The city wasn't far now. Currently, the train, propelled forward by the power of alchemical circles, was gaining speed on a straight stretch of track. The cars swayed gently. Professor Adam Demare wearily adjusted his glasses and immersed himself in reading the latest research reports, the results were promising. Veronika Demare had long since given up and set aside a patient's medical history, unable to focus on the meaning of the words. A colleague from the capital's hospital had asked her to review this unusual case, though she hadn't practiced in years, having devoted all her time to work at the Academy.
Demare looked up at his wife as she softly slid a cup toward him. A light dance of her fingers over the tea's surface activated a small fire sigil, and soon the liquid was hot again.
"Thank you, my dear," Demare smiled and accepted his wife's care.
The quiet conversations of other passengers were occasionally drowned out by bursts of laughter from the smoking area, where a group of young cadets were enjoying themselves, looking forward to their leave. A subdued instrumental melody played from the gramophone speaker. On the horizon, the sun hurried to dip behind the distant treetops. The carriage attendant began lighting the lamps above the tables using a simple alchemical circle. Soon, the entire car was bathed in a warm yellowish glow.
Adam Demare took another sip from his cup and returned it to the saucer. The next instant, both he and his wife stared intently at the remnants of tea at the bottom. Ripples spread across the surface. These weren't waves from the train's motion; they pulsed out of sync with its movement. The couple exchanged a glance.
"That's odd. The train's rhythm hasn't changed."
Professor Demare slipped the documents back into his briefcase.
"Wait—"
The impact came first. The reinforced windows cracked like eggshells, webbing with fractures. The carriage jolted violently. Porcelain, bags, and lamps crashed to the floor. Passengers hadn't yet grasped what was happening, so, there were no screams yet.
A flash. No! Flashes. Green flares pulsed, first on one side, then the other. A vacuum replaced the air. Now, screams were smothered by its absence. Silent agony.
They crawled through the shredded floor and walls - epicenters of horror with gaping maws. Pale green luminescence slicked their skin, stretched over too-many-jointed limbs. Each creature bore a unique deformity, as if they'd tried to copy humans but missed the essence: legs too long, eyes too small, mouths stretched grotesquely, organs misplaced or multiplied.
They came to feed.
Not a sound in the dead air.
Not a single survivor.
***
The Inquisition officer strode briskly through the containment barrier that kept curious onlookers away from the crash site.
"How many?" he asked the junior lieutenant who saluted him.
"All."
"No survivors?"
"None, sir."
The officer gave a curt nod. He moved toward the twisted wreckage of the train cars. Bodies were already being extracted and laid out in the field beside the tracks. Consulting the passenger manifest, the inquisitor stepped over debris, making his way to the target carriage - now lying on its side like a whale beached by a merciless storm.
He squeezed through a breach in the roof and paused to survey the interior. The dead had been removed, leaving only their scattered belongings behind. His gaze moved methodically across the ravaged remnants of lives interrupted. With a wave of his hand, he sent a pile of wreckage and dust-covered suitcases skittering aside. Taking a few more steps inward, he searched for his objective.
Finally, his eyes locked onto a corner of leather and a metal clasp. The stone around his neck flared with power as he summoned the briefcase from beneath shattered glass and porcelain with an almost imperceptible gesture. His fingers closed around the grime-covered, roughly tanned leather.
Flipping open the lid, he removed a folder and quickly scanned its contents. A satisfied nod. Mission accomplished.
The inquisitor soon emerged outside, where a captain was already waiting. Without hesitation, he handed over the folder.
"These are only part of it. We'll need to retrieve the rest."
The captain took the folder and briefly glanced through the documents.
"We'll deal with that later," he said, turning to leave the scene. But he paused for a second and added over his shoulder, "Officer, as far as the public is concerned, this was simply a train derailment."
"Understood, Captain."