The rails shifted, groaning like tortured bones, and a door rose from the dark. Not iron. Not wood. But glass—clear, fragile, endless.
Evelyn's lantern flickered as the door creaked open, revealing a chamber that stretched into infinity. Every surface—walls, floor, ceiling—was made of mirrors.
As she stepped inside, her flame lit hundreds of reflections of herself. But they weren't her. Not truly.
In one reflection, Evelyn was smiling, untouched by horror. In another, she was bloodied, broken, hollow-eyed. In another, she wasn't even human—her skin black-veined, her mouth a jagged grin of teeth not her own.
Her chest tightened as the reflections began to move on their own, out of sync with her. Each whispered in her voice, layered, unbearable:
"You'll die here.""You'll become one of us.""They're gone because of you.""You belong to the train."
The lantern trembled in her grip, the flame sputtering. Evelyn forced herself to breathe, but the mirrors kept tightening, closing in, each reflection pressing harder with venomous truths.
Then—one reflection stepped out of the glass.
It was Evelyn. But stronger. Crueler. Her lantern burned black, not white. Her eyes glowed with the pulse of the heart.
"Why fight?" the double sneered, circling her like a predator. "With the train, you're not prey. You're power. You're free."
Evelyn's throat tightened. This was different from the whispers. This was her. Every dark thought, every temptation given form.
The double raised its black lantern, and the mirrors began to shatter one by one, releasing more twisted Evelyns—each laughing, crying, screaming. A storm of her own faces surrounded her.
The real Evelyn clutched her lantern, flame barely holding. "You're not me," she whispered, though her voice shook.
The dark Evelyn leaned close, grinning. "Not yet."
The mirrors screamed, and the chamber became a battlefield of herself against herself.