The pre-dawn streets of Tingen were shrouded in fog and shadow as Klein, Welch, and Naya made their way toward the railway station. They had packed only the essentials—clothes, money, and most importantly, the Antigonus family notebook, which Klein now carried in a specially prepared satchel that seemed to muffle its supernatural emanations.
Welch's Seer abilities had guided them along routes that avoided the cult's search parties, but Klein could sense that their pursuers were closing in. The Fallen Creator's influence was spreading through the city like a cancer, corrupting not just the cultists but ordinary citizens who had the misfortune to encounter them.
"The 6:15 train to Backlund," Welch said, consulting a vision that seemed to flicker behind his eyes. "If we can reach it, we'll have a chance. But the station... there's something waiting for us there."
Naya, who had been unusually quiet during their flight, suddenly grabbed Klein's arm. "There's someone following us," she whispered. "I can feel their emotions—hunger, anticipation, and something else. Something that doesn't feel human."
Klein turned slightly, using his peripheral vision to scan the street behind them. At first, he saw nothing unusual—just the typical early morning activity of a working-class neighborhood. But then he noticed a figure in a dark coat who seemed to be moving with too much purpose, and whose reflection in the shop windows looked subtly wrong.
"One of the cult's hunters," Klein realized. "They've sent something that's better at blending in than the creatures we faced last night."
The notebook in his satchel grew warm, and Klein felt information flowing into his mind. The hunter was what the text called a "Marionettist"—a Beyonder who had gained the ability to control human bodies like puppets. The figure following them was probably just a shell, controlled from a distance by the real threat.
"We need to split up," Klein said quietly. "If we all go to the station together, we'll be walking into a trap. Welch, can your visions show you an alternative route?"
Welch closed his eyes for a moment, his consciousness reaching into the streams of possibility that surrounded them. "There's a way," he said finally. "But it's dangerous. We'd have to go through the old industrial district, past the abandoned Hornacis Mountain Steel Works. That area is... contaminated."
Klein knew what he meant. The notebook had mentioned several locations in Tingen where the barriers between the normal world and the supernatural realm had been weakened. The old steel works was one of them—a place where reality itself had been damaged by experiments that should never have been attempted.
"It's better than facing the cult's trap," Klein decided. "At least in the contaminated zone, we'll only have to deal with random supernatural phenomena instead of organized enemies."
They changed direction, heading toward the industrial district. The hunter behind them seemed to hesitate, apparently receiving new instructions from its controller. Klein hoped that meant the cult was having to adjust their plans, buying them precious time.
The abandoned steel works loomed out of the fog like a monument to industrial ambition gone wrong. The buildings were intact but empty, their windows dark and their smokestacks cold. But Klein could feel the wrongness that permeated the area—a sense that the laws of physics were more like suggestions here, and that things that should be impossible might happen without warning.
"Stay close," Klein warned as they entered the facility grounds. "Don't touch anything that looks unusual, and if you see or hear anything that doesn't make sense, tell me immediately."
They had barely gone a hundred yards when the first anomaly manifested. A section of the path ahead began to ripple like water, and through the distortion, Klein caught glimpses of what the area had looked like decades ago—busy with workers, filled with the sounds of industry, alive with human activity.
"Temporal echoes," Klein identified, consulting the notebook's ever-expanding knowledge. "The past is bleeding through into the present. As long as we don't interact with the echoes, we should be safe."
But as they carefully skirted the temporal distortion, Welch suddenly stopped, his eyes wide with terror. "Klein," he whispered, "I'm seeing something. A vision of what's waiting for us at the station. It's not just the cult—there's something else. Something much worse."
The vision that Welch shared was fragmentary but terrifying. Klein saw the railway station transformed into something that belonged in a nightmare—the platforms twisted into impossible geometries, the trains replaced by vehicles that moved through dimensions rather than space, and presiding over it all, a figure that hurt to look at directly.
"An avatar of the Fallen Creator," Klein realized with growing dread. "The cult has summoned a direct manifestation of their patron deity. If we go to the station, we won't just be captured—we'll be consumed."
Naya's face had gone white. "Then how do we get out of the city? The railway is the only practical way to reach Backlund, and if the cult controls it..."
Klein felt The Fool's presence stir in his mind, offering knowledge and possibilities. There was another way, but it would require him to take a much greater risk than he had so far. He would have to fully embrace his connection to The Fool and use powers that he didn't yet understand.
"There's a way," Klein said slowly, "but it means trusting The Fool completely. I can create a passage through the spirit world—a shortcut that bypasses normal space. But if something goes wrong, we could end up lost between dimensions, or worse."
Welch's Seer abilities were apparently showing him the same possibility. "I can see it," he said. "It's dangerous, but it's our only chance. The alternative is certain death or corruption."
As they stood in the shadow of the abandoned steel works, surrounded by the reality distortions that marked the boundary between the normal world and the supernatural realm, Klein prepared to take the next step in his transformation from ordinary human to something far more extraordinary. The crimson moon was fading with the approaching dawn, but Klein could feel its influence would guide them through the trials ahead.
The real journey was about to begin.