The train was almost too much for Senka’s mind to take.

Belly still brimming with Wilhelm’s blood, the young vampire settled into their cabin with insatiable delight.

There were two small beds on either side which managed to convey a sense of confident luxury despite the somewhat cramped interior. Each had a curtain which could be draped across for privacy.

A little table squeezed between. Two plush leather seats on either side of the window promised comfort, if not dignity. A tiny alcove for washing. And a small closet which smelled of lavender.

As the train hauled gently through the city in search of escape, its heavy mechanical thrusts and deep engine growls had Senka moving from window to corridor. Unable to contain herself as she tried to absorb every moment of experience.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said, running her hands along the window’s edge. “Look at the carving in the wood. Isn’t it intricate?”

“Yes, it’s very nice.”

“And the bed sheets. They’re silk! So much silk. Feel this! It’s so smooth. And the blankets!”

“Yes.” Vasilja lounged in her seat. Unmoving. “Very pretty.”

“Where shall we sleep?”

“Unfortunately, in here. I didn’t want to stay in our coffins for the whole journey. Humans get awfully upset if they catch you climbing out of one.”

“What about the window?”

“Dimiti bought a sheet of leather to cover the glass. And some waxed canvas bags for us to sleep inside.”

Senka wrinkled her nose. “Bags?”

“Yes. They use them to transport corpses these days. Think of them as portable coffins. They might not be comfortable, but they’re very practical.”

“It sounds awful.”

“It is. But it should do to keep the sunlight out. Not that there’s a terrible amount of it this time of year. One advantage to travelling in Winter, I suppose.” She frowned, tapping her chin with her finger. “You know, now I think about it, if we put some work into them, they’d be better than dragging coffins around with us everywhere we go. I’m sure they could be adapted. I’ll talk to Dimiti about it tomorrow.”

Heading out of the city, the train raced around a curve in the track and Senka swayed with it, her face lit with a smile. “Did you feel that? It’s so fast! Do you think we could fly as fast as this?”

“For a short time, I should think.”

“I want to try. I want to race it!”

“Senka, please. That’s much too dangerous. What if you can’t keep up? What if you fall behind? Then Dimiti and I would need to get off to find you. And we might lose the coffins. Or our soil.”

“I suppose you’re right, Vasilja. But I want to race a train one day.”

“Of course you do. But not today.”

The young vampire nodded, then slid the window open to let the freezing wind roar into the small cabin with icy claws. Far from distressing, it instead excited her as her hat flew from her head and bounced to Vasilja’s feet.

Repressing the urge to stomp on it, Vasilja instead just stared at it like it was a bug.

Then turned in her chair as someone knocked on the door.

“You may enter,” she called.

The door opened with a polite tug to reveal the steward standing meekly outside, brass buttons on his uniform gleaming bright. “Lady,” he said. “I came to check everything is in order?”

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?” Then followed his startled gaze to where Senka was shoving her head out the window to laugh into the rushing wind. “Oh, never mind her. She’s an idiot.”

“I heard that!”

“You were meant to!” Then back to the steward; “It’s probably for the best if we weren’t disturbed. Can you ensure this?”

“Absolutely.”

“Excellent. Then, if you require anything else from us, please talk to Dimiti in the next cabin.”

“As you wish, Lady.” He winced as he glanced at Senka again. “Lady, I don’t mean to be intrusive, but we are coming to a tunnel soon. It’s not healthy to have the window open. The sulfur, you see. In this weather, there can be acid. It’s best to keep the window closed until we’ve passed through.”

“Acid?”

“Yes, Lady. The steam can cause your skin to burn in the tunnel. I thought you should know.”

“Thank you. It’s much appreciated.” She glanced at Senka and sighed. “I’ll try to explain it to her.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave now. And if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

Vasilja nodded her thanks as he closed the door. “Senka! Will you pull your head inside, please? You’re not a dog.” She pursed her lips. “At least, for now I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“I will in a minute!”

“Did you hear the steward? He said there’s a tunnel coming up.”

“I heard him!”

“Then stop playing around and do what he suggested, will you?”

“I told you. In a minute! I can see it up ahead! There’s plenty of time.”

“You could at least help with our bags.”

“There’s plenty of time for that, too!”

Senka felt the sharp air as it cruised past her face. The trees and the mountains seemed to shoot past. Rain hit her cheeks so hard it was like each drop had the power to cut into skin.

Flecks of coal clicked sharply against the window.

Smoke from the engine whirled in the wind.

Fumes of oil tainted her nostrils.

And the crashing sound of the engine thrilled as she contemplated the power needed to pull the heavy machine. So much power.

She wondered what it would be like to stand in front of it. To let it hit. Would she be obliterated? Would anything be left of her?

She imagined the impact and couldn’t help but smile at the majesty of such an end. The smile remained for a few moments until she caught herself wondering if the younger vampire’s childish enthusiasm was contagious.

Up ahead, the tunnel’s mouth seemed to roar in anticipation as the furious energy of the steam engine pulled the train faster.

Faster.

A gentle curve. A passive slope.

Closer.

She knew what she was doing was wrong. But she had to feel the air inside the tunnel on her face.

She looked over her shoulder. A wicked grin aimed at Vasilja.

“Stop it, Senka, please.”

Something in Vasilja’s voice made her think of Hailwic. And a flash of guilt ribboned through her undead heart. While Hailwic’s skull lay in the small box beside the door, she was having fun.

Too much fun.

The thought made her start to pull her head inside.

When a hollow howl of wind made her look ahead.

The tunnel.

It swallowed the train in a rush of utter darkness which drenched the cabin in shadow and made Vasilja let out a yelp of surprise. “Senka!”

Sulfur.

The stink of it was thick.

Cloying.

It raced into her nostrils. The Devil’s own fumes.

Pouring into her lungs and infecting her blood.

She opened her mouth to say something but was hit by a wave of searing fire which seemed to rip her from the train. She felt flung into the dark reaches of the tunnel, sulfur and acid clawing into her flesh. Burning.

She screamed.

At least, she thought she did.

Mouth open, the scream collapsed quickly into mute suffering.

And then she was floating.

Darkness.

Silence.

Which cleared as milky green light crept out of nowhere.

Drifting across a chasm of thick smoke. Underneath the layer of smoke, pale white arms reached for her. Millions of them, reaching. White fingers. Splintered nails.

Dead meat beneath papery skin.

Reaching.

Clawing. Rasp of their skin against each other the only sound she could hear.

She drifted across the sea of dead flesh, her eyes fixed firm on the horizon. Smoke curled around her ankles and was scattered in her wake like ghostly tendrils.

Across the chasm, she continued to drift. Gliding as though she were being reeled.

Swaying on the hook.

Unable to fight the compulsive grip.

Then she saw it.

A temple.

Tall and dark. Molded out of flesh and stone. Rampant carnality corrupted the ground in all directions around it. Writhing figures worked themselves to frenzy. Demons danced along the ramparts, boisterous and enthused.

A sea of souls formed a lurid tide which washed against the temple walls.

Perversions she’d never dreamt of were played out in front of her as the damned were raped again and again for the pleasure of an unknowable eye.

Further out, twisted mutations dragged themselves out of luminescent green lakes. Things with swollen protrusions, pus-filled sores, tentacles. Slime-drenched and whimpering in agony, they crawled. Crawled however they could toward the temple.

To observe. To worship.

Or to beg.

Giant bats wheeled overhead, eyes burning with foul green light. Their shrieks skating through the dark.

A winged demon flapped past, not looking at her. Its drugged gaze firm on the temple’s altar. Felfire rippled along its shoulders. It opened its maw and rancid green drool spilled from its lips.

Its draconic wings carried it swiftly ahead.

At the temple’s peak, a green fire burned like a beacon. It roared high, its flames seething with rage and poisoned hunger. The cavern ceiling above, impossibly high, reflected the unholy light across the entirety of Hell.

He was there.

She could feel his presence.

Dracula’s master. Her master.

Lucifer.

Satan. A thing of a thousand names, and one.

The Devil himself.

Slowly, he turned.

Eyes burning with the corruption of Felfire. Horns long and curved. Wings diseased and black. Power radiated from him like heat from the sun.

Brimstone and ash melted beneath his feet.

“Senka…”

The voice was turpentine and sludge. It speared through her head like a stick of thorns. Left her mind vibrating and soul bleeding.

Numb, her voice fell from her mouth; “Master…”

He pointed to the altar.

In the heart of the burning fire, a burning sphere spun slowly. Its stone surface was cracked with glowing green veins.

She knew what it was.

She’d seen it so many times in her dreams.

The Felstone.

Half-submerged in the writhing plasma of burning souls. Malignant beyond description, its evil slithered outward and infected everything it touched.

The ground trembled in torment around it.

Souls, lured by its primordial song, were draped in molten Felfire as they mounted the temple stairs. As they approached, their forms warped, twisted, and were sundered. With flashes of light, their broken shards exploded and were absorbed into the stone.

Joining with it.

Her stomach churned at the putrid stench of ancient death.

Fel drifted across the ground. It slid up her leg like an ethereal snake. Eldritch mist coiling her arms.

She could feel it.

Feel its power.

Calling.

Calling to her.

Her name, whispered from deep within the flames. “Senka…”

She dropped down in front of the flame, her hands reaching for the Felstone, which beckoned her closer.

As her fingertips met the eldritch green fire, the ground shook and enormous bells tolled from within the temple’s black towers.

The cacophony rang through Hell’s twisted realms like discordant thunder.

Souls screeched their torment.

Demons plugged their ears to the sound.

And Satan laughed a manic laugh which seemed as bitter as it was merry.

She felt a sudden sharp pain bite into her cheek as he turned towards her, green flame dancing around his shoulders. His strange eyes burned with terrible desires.

“Senka!”

She woke with a scream.

And Vasilja’s arms were tight around her.

“Oh, Vasilja,” she choked, her eyes rolling as she tried to fight off waves of vertigo. “I had another dream.”

“What kind of dream?”

Senka calmed as she stared up into the other vampire’s concerned face and a vivid flash of countless tormented souls entered her mind.

The putrid and unholy fires which fed on them.

The Devil, his mad bestial gaze.

The tainted corruption of the Felstone.

Evil.

Alive.

“I saw Hell,” she said. Voice soft. “It was beautiful…”