The walls peeled back like rotten flesh, unveiling a cavernous chamber where no rails, no windows, no doors existed—only a vast, throbbing heart suspended in the void. It pulsed with such force that the survivors staggered with every beat, their own pulses syncing unwillingly to its rhythm.
The heart wasn't silent. With every contraction, it exhaled a chorus of whispers—voices of the lost, the devoured, the forgotten passengers who had fed it for years, decades, maybe centuries. Their screams twisted into moans, their pleas into promises, their desires into chains.
Sophie collapsed, clutching her chest. Her heart wasn't her own anymore—it beat for the train. Black veins spread beneath her skin, each one threading her into the chamber. She gasped, begging the others to cut her free, but every attempt only made the veins burrow deeper.
Alex fell to his knees, staring at the massive organ with hollow eyes. His reflection appeared on its wet surface—only, it wasn't him. It was what he would become if he gave in: eyeless, skin stretched, a mouth gaping open in eternal hunger. The reflection smiled, and he felt it smile inside him.
Leo's sanity cracked. He screamed at the heart, demanding answers, demanding release. In response, a tendril lashed out, wrapping around his throat, whispering in his ear:"There is no release. Only transformation."
Evelyn, trembling but still clutching the lantern, realized the truth: this was the engine of the train. Not coal, not electricity—this living heart powered every carriage, fed by passengers' fears, desires, and souls. And now… it was demanding its final offering.
The whispers rose into one booming voice, vibrating through marrow and thought alike:"One must surrender completely. Choose… or all will be consumed."
The lantern flickered, shadows closing in. For the first time, the survivors understood what the train wanted: not death, but devotion.
And the heart kept beating, waiting for one of them to break.