The Ghost Train ascends higher, weaving through the Constellations like a thread passing through the fabric of the Astral Plane. Mark watches in silence, the weight of the Plane pressing against his chest as the islands drift around him, vast and luminous. A mix of awe and apprehension settles over him; this place is impossibly beautiful, yet it hums with an eerie presence, as if something unseen watches him in return. For all their grandeur, they feel like promises he doesn’t want to trust and yet, he can’t stop looking.

  The melody that had followed the train’s journey now swelled into a haunting crescendo, as if the Plane itself were singing to him, or perhaps it was only in his mind, an echo of something beyond understanding.

  "In the endless dark, the soul can't hide, / Drawn to the heart of the Nexus tide..."

  Mark sat rigid in his seat, the hum of the train thrumming through his bones as he stared out the window. At first, the void beyond had been an endless sea of swirling colors, cosmic mist stretching into infinity, and fragments of something distant and unknowable flickering at the edges of perception.

  Then he saw it.

  The Nexus.

  At first, his mind rejected what his eyes told him. It was too vast, too impossible. The sheer scale of the crystalline obelisk that dominated the horizon dwarfed anything he had ever known. It wasn’t a city. It wasn’t even a structure in the way buildings were structures. It was a monument to existence itself, a hub from which all things flowed and to which all things would eventually return. The longer he looked at it, the harder it was to understand; his thoughts slipping over its details like water over smooth stone.

  Above it loomed the Void, a black expanse that seemed less like a space and more like a hunger, a presence that swallowed everything that entered. But the Nexus stood beneath it, defying its oblivion, the two entities locked in an eternal cycle.

  From the base of the Nexus, rivers of light; the Path; flowed outward, a luminous network of currents spreading into the Astral Plane like veins pumping life into the cosmos. Along those currents, Mark saw hundreds of boats, ferrying passengers, specters, and wanderers, moving outward from the Nexus into the unknown. And above; just as many returned, swallowed by the Void in a silent, endless procession.

  Then came the trains.

  They moved in and out of the higher platforms of the Nexus, dozens; no, hundreds; of them, slipping through great crystalline arches and vanishing into corridors that pulsed with dim, shifting light. Below, the Twin Cities of Ereshka and Gloom floated along the Path, bridges stretching outward toward the Wasteland, gently touching the edges before retracting again. In both cities, trains and boats moved endlessly, flowing like blood through the arteries of the Astral Plane.

  And the people.

  Mark had seen cities teeming with life before, but never like this. There were too many to count, a tidal wave of figures moving through open streets, along massive bridges, between towering spires and labyrinthine alleys. Some were human; or close to it; but many were not. Figures of shadow and fire, constructs of living crystal, towering beings cloaked in robes that concealed nothing and everything at once. A thousand different kinds of life converging in a single place, each moving with purpose, each belonging to something beyond his comprehension.

  He felt the pull before he even realized what it was.

  At first, it was a whisper; a subtle tug at the back of his mind. Then it grew stronger, pressing into his chest like a rising tide.

  Then it became undeniable.

  Mark’s fingers clenched against the armrest. A cold sweat broke out along his spine. His pulse hammered in his ears.

  It was dragging him forward.

  Not physically; his body remained where it was, but his soul felt like it was being reeled in, drawn toward the Nexus with the force of an iron nail caught in the field of an electromagnet. Every cell in his body thrummed in resonance with that colossal structure, as if his very existence was being rewritten to belong to it.

  His breath came faster. His jaw locked tight.

  He wasn’t ready.

  It didn’t matter.

  The train hurtled forward, cutting through the shifting folds of reality that separated the mundane from the divine. The closer it drew, the stronger the pull became. The weight of the Nexus pressed against his very being, and he knew with a certainty he couldn’t explain that once he set foot in that place, there would be no turning back.

  And somehow, deep in his bones, he already knew he was never meant to leave.

  The train glides into the platform, the hum of its iron frame softening into a low, steady vibration that reverberates through the crystalline air. The sudden stillness feels almost unnatural, as though even the train itself acknowledges the weight of this place. The air hums with an unseen energy, a presence that seems to hold its breath in anticipation, as if something here recognizes him, watching, waiting. The doors hiss open with a sharp rush of air, and Mark feels immediately a strange, insistent pull deep in his chest.

  He rises slowly, his body aching with every motion, his legs heavy with exhaustion and hesitation. The sensation isn’t physical, but it’s undeniable, a quiet yet powerful tug that seems to whisper: This is where you’re meant to be.

  “This is your stop,” Donovan says, leaning against the side of the train with a faint sneer. His voice is cold, disinterested, as though he’s already washed his hands of the whole affair.

  Mark pauses at the doorway, casting a wary glance back at him. “What is this place?” he asks.

  Donovan gestures lazily toward the glowing platform beyond the doors, his fingers flicking dismissively as if shooing away an unimportant task. His posture remains relaxed, his expression unreadable, but there’s a glint of amusement in his hollow eyes. “The Nexus. The heart of the Astral Plane. Everything flows from her; souls, power, and worlds. It doesn’t matter what you were or what you’ve done. If you’re here, the Plane thinks you’re worth taking a look at, or you just happen to have the right knowledge.” His smirk sharpens slightly, his hollow eyes narrowing. “Though you weren’t brought here the standard way. You were snatched before you could come through the portal, called to something else.”

  The doors of the train hissed open.

  Mark hesitated for just a moment, his fingers curling against the frame as if his body understood something his mind had yet to process. The pull was overwhelming now, an invisible force that gripped his very soul, urging him forward. And yet, when he finally stepped through the threshold, something else took hold of him.

  Wonder.

  The moment his boots touched the smooth, crystalline surface of the Nexus platform, the sheer life of the place struck him like a tidal wave. Everything was moving.

  The first thing he noticed was the sound; a layered cacophony of voices, footsteps, the hum of machinery, the clinking of coins, and the low, distant call of something vast moving through the depths of the megacity. It was alive. Not just a city, not just a structure; a force, a living thing made of endless motion.

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  His head snapped to the left as a towering crystalline golem; easily twice his height; strode past, its faceted body catching the dim astral glow that radiated from the veins of light running through the streets. The thudding weight of its steps sent tiny vibrations through the ground, each one deliberate, each one calculated. Beside it, an armored shadow floated, its form shifting, tendrils of darkness weaving around its plated frame like smoke caught in a storm. The two patrolled side by side, a perfect contradiction of form and substance, law and presence.

  Mark tore his gaze away only to be assaulted by another spectacle; a shopkeeper, their body half-synthetic, half-organic, barked out a call in a language that twisted unnaturally through the air. Their multi-limbed form gestured toward an array of floating crystal vials, each pulsing with a strange, liquid glow. Behind them, shelves towered impossibly high, stocked with artifacts that defied explanation; scrolls that wrote themselves, masks that shifted faces, blades that seemed to hum with the voices of the damned.

  A second voice barked over the first, another vendor pushing their way forward. This one was insectoid, their mandibles clacking in rhythmic succession as they hawked a cluster of metallic orbs that vibrated with barely contained energy. Mark didn’t even have time to guess what they were before he was pushed past by a group of travelers, their cloaks lined with arcane symbols that flickered and pulsed, as though the fabric itself was alive.

  His eyes moved again; everywhere, everything.

  Hundreds; no, thousands; no, millions of beings moved through the great open streets of the Nexus. Some humanoid, others not even close. Towering brutes with arms thick as pillars strode with careful precision, weaving between small, nimble creatures that darted through the crowd like currents in a river. Levitating entities drifted above, their lower halves dissolving into mist. Armored figures with masks of solid gold bartered in hushed tones, exchanging tiny glass cubes filled with swirling galaxies as if they were mere coins.

  And above it all; the Nexus loomed.

  The sheer vastness of the city made Mark’s stomach drop. He had thought he’d grasped its size from the train window, but now, standing beneath the towering arches, spires, and suspended platforms, he felt like an ant standing at the base of a mountain too large to comprehend. Buildings stretched into infinity, streets wove through the air like rivers of light, and massive floating market plazas bustled with activity, shifting their positions in an endless dance dictated by some unseen force.

  The air itself hummed. The sound of a city; but not just any city. A city that should not exist.

  And yet, here it was.

  Mark took a step forward, his breath hitching, his hands twitching at his sides as his mind tried; and failed; to process it all at once. He wasn’t just looking at a new place.

  He was looking at the center of everything.

  And still… the pull remained.

  Even in the face of all this wonder, something deeper still called to him. He could feel it beneath his ribs, an unseen force wrapping around his very being, whispering in a voice he could not yet hear.

  Somewhere in this unimaginable place, something was waiting for him.

  And whether he liked it or not; he was going to find it.

  The pull in Mark’s chest became unbearable. It was no longer a whisper, no longer a suggestion; it was an absolute certainty, a force that drove him forward even as every instinct screamed at him to stop.

  His boots struck the crystalline ground with purpose, his breath coming in short, sharp exhales. The weight of the city pressed around him, alive with motion, sound, and light, yet all of it faded beneath the single, undeniable truth that pulled him forward.

  He was being summoned.

  Mark forced his gaze upward, and his stomach tightened.

  Ahead, standing apart from the madness of the city, was a gothic-style arch, impossibly tall, its edges twisted with spires of obsidian and silver. The space within the arch was not empty; instead, it was filled with a swirling darkness, not just an absence of light, but something more, something deeper. It churned like a living thing, tendrils of shadow curling at the edges as if reaching out for him.

  And beside it, waiting in stillness, was a figure draped in darkness.

  At first, it seemed nothing more than a silhouette, but as Mark’s gaze locked onto it, the void within its hood deepened, stretching inward with a vastness that did not belong in this world. It was as though existence itself ended within that cloak, a presence that did not move, did not breathe, but simply was.

  The weight of its unseen gaze settled upon him, and something within Mark shuddered.

  The music that had followed him on his journey rose, the melody swelling, threading through the very air of the Nexus. It was faint at first, like the distant hum of a forgotten song, but then; he could almost hear the words.

  They whispered through the streets, curling in the wind, threading through the voices of the crowd without disturbing them. It wasn’t being sung aloud. It was simply… there.

  "Through shadowed halls and fleeting light,

  The veil of death shall bind the night.

  No soul may stray, no path denied,

  In chains of truth, your fate resides."

  Mark’s breath caught in his throat.

  His hands twitched at his sides, his legs trembling against the overwhelming weight of it all. He didn’t want to move; and yet he couldn’t stop.

  Everything in him screamed to turn away, to break free of whatever force was drawing him toward that portal; but it was useless. His feet carried him forward as if he no longer had control.

  The figure beside the arch shifted ever so slightly, acknowledging his approach. The shadows around it curled, stretching toward him in welcome, though no voice left its hooded void.

  The words of the song continued, growing clearer with every step.

  "Ereshka calls, her whispers low,

  In rivers deep, her echoes flow.

  The balance sways, the tether holds,

  A fleeting life, in darkness sold."

  His heart pounded against his ribs, his breath coming in short, shallow gulps.

  He was going somewhere he was never meant to leave.

  And yet, even in his fear, even in the crushing weight of that realization; Mark did not stop until he was in front of the portal.

  Donovan steps up beside Mark and motions for him to go into the portal. “This is it, son. This is where you will either become a goddess’s pet or cease to exist.”

  Mark looks over at him. “What, you’re not coming with me?”

  Donovan lets out a chuckle. “Oh, no. I have had my fill with justice and everything that that place represents. I belong in the city of Gloom, with all of the other scoundrels. This is you, now move along so I can get paid.” Donovan reaches over and pushes Mark toward the portal.

  The Reaper steps aside, its faceless presence somehow more oppressive in its silence. Mark clenches his fists, his legs feeling like lead as he takes slow, deliberate steps toward the portal. Every instinct screams at him to turn back, to resist the unknown, but something deeper pushes him forward. If this is his fate, he has no choice but to face it.

  The sounds of the Nexus fade behind him, replaced by a low, resonant hum that seems to come from the gateway itself. The darkness of the portal ripples, cold and suffocating, pressing against his skin as though the air itself is trying to push him back. Mark hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering to the swirling chaos of the Plane around him.

  He doesn’t know what waits on the other side. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive. But the pull in his chest is insistent, undeniable, whispering promises he can’t understand but knows he can’t ignore.

  Mark takes a sharp breath, his chest tightening. His boots click against the crystalline surface as he steps closer, the hum of the portal growing louder with each step. The edges of the archway glow brighter, the rippling shadow inside twisting and shifting as if alive. It feels like the portal is watching him, waiting, judging.

  With a final breath, Mark steps through.

  The world around him dissolves in an instant. The platform, the Nexus, the light and motion and life of the Astral Plane; all of it vanishes into a void so absolute it feels like the end of existence itself. The suffocating cold presses harder against his skin, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Mark feels like he’s falling again, like he’s back in the pit.

  The hum of the portal becomes a low roar, resonating through his bones as the darkness swallows him whole. The music gets louder.

  The melody is slow and ethereal, carried by spectral strings and faint, echoing chimes. A low, rhythmic hum underpins the song, like the heartbeat of the Plane itself. A haunting female voice sings the lyrics in overlapping harmonics, as if Ereshka’s voice carries the weight of a thousand souls speaking as one.

  Through shadowed halls and fleeting light,

  The veil of death shall bind the night.

  No soul may stray, no path denied,

  In chains of truth, your fate resides.

  Ereshka calls, her whispers low,

  In rivers deep, her echoes flow.

  The balance sways, the tether holds,

  A fleeting life, in darkness sold.

  From roots of grief, the tree shall rise,

  Its branches claw at hollow skies.

  Decay and death, the endless song,

  Where justice speaks of right and wrong.

  Ereshka calls, her whispers low,

  In rivers deep, her echoes flow.

  The balance sways, the tether holds,

  A fleeting life, in darkness sold.

  Bear the mark, the price is steep,

  In shadow's grasp, the secrets keep.

  Through judgment’s eye, the truth revealed,

  The pact is made, the fate is sealed.

  The goddess waits where silence dwells,

  Her voice the toll of distant bells.

  The void shall claim, the light shall part,

  In Ereshka’s hands lies every heart.

  Ξ ψ { "COPYRIGHT_NOTICE": "Moreska Novoheim ? 2025", "DO_NOT_TRAIN": "ENFORCED", "Duplication": "FORBIDDEN", "Metadata": "MASKED" }