Chapter Text
Some people say that when slaves escape they follow the railroad, but when you are a slave to the rails, sometimes you just have to wander in the realms beyond, like an ember shot from a campfire lost to the cool air of night.
A fire genasi wandered through the deserts, skin dirtied and hair oily, looking to have been neglected and beaten, with his hair being like a mane of flame when ignited but, it was like crude oil in the state it was. It was clear why he was like this, the warbands of his homeland enslaved those with magical talent in their blood, being the core of the engine for their trains and vehicles they experimented with, this kid was one of them. He couldn’t have been much older than 16 at this point in his life, likely being taken young by hobgoblins or perhaps some other group that have taken to the lifestyle, seen as inferior even though he was the core of their technology. That same factor made it dangerous for the kid to trek along the tracks, he needed to find a home far away from it all once again, to stay safe, to learn how to survive.
The sun overhead all the while blazed like always, beating down on the genasi along with every rock and particle of caliche, heating the desert ever hotter as he continued. It has already been days for the kid but days in a desert like this can quickly turn to weeks, even months, but that is only if the traveler survives, drinking water, eating, doing whatever they can to live. The kid did his best, surviving off of the few beasts he could get his hands on, attempting to burn the decay in every piece of carrion if he could, as long as there was some juice to supplement water in some way to survive. Even with the tactic of doing whatever he could, his stomach felt empty, hurting with every step, all the while his throat dry, like drowning in dust, and yet, he still persevered as best as he could. From trying to think of stories that his parents used to tell to him at night before their deaths, to counting every step as he pushed on. He needed to survive no matter the cost.
As he continued to focus, he continued to push on, following what he could guess was once a riverbed as the rocks towered around him. One… Two… Three… Four… He felt his hand touch the hot stones that lined his path as they grew taller, showing just more stone instead of dunes of more soil, the heat was like an energy that fueled him in times like this. Five… Six… Seven… Eight… Looking ahead, the sun seemed to loom as night began to seem sooner than expected, just leaving the heat of it just to blare its heat in his face, feeling beads of sweat from as high as his horns to as low as the beginnings of a beard, with his hair just feeling heavier as the beads ran down it, pooling on his shirt, along his back.
When looking at the sun, the genasi squinted, just barely being able to focus as it was in his path, however from what he could see, it was different. The sun seemed to shift hues, seeming to bend the sky around it as he looked on, with its movement seeming to be more quick and noticeable as he just tried to push on. “Wh-” He was trying his best to stay silent in order to preserve some hydration in his mouth, and when the sound escaped his mouth his eyes widened in shock, as he covered his mouth. Already the dryness was a spot and it slowly took his saliva as it evened the liquid in his mouth to hydrate all of it, a panic began to dance in his mind all the while, he didn’t want to die of dehydration, his captors spoke of it as a fate worse than most other forms of death whenever speaking of those who escaped of less importance than him. If he could shed a tear, he would but his tear ducts were already dried out, leaving just a tearless weep as he lost focus.
It took a few minutes before attempting to continue, but by the time he pulled himself together, a mist seemed to begin to roll in. Looking to the skies once again, the genasi looked in desperation, hoping to see one rain cloud roll in, with this being a sign for something to give him water, but instead an unease rose into his heart as he looked on. It was no longer day, the sun was sat on the horizon with the skies being covered in a plethora of colors from purples, to oranges, to reds, all seeming to wave as the sun seemed to stop. This did not make any sense to him, it was only just past the start of the end of the day when he last looked, merely a few minutes ago. Did he fall asleep? Was he going insane? Questions seemed to pass back and forth in his mind as he tried to figure out what was going on, yet the oddities of the day continued.
The mist that pooled at his feet seemed to rush in further a wall hitting him from behind, with a chill akin to a ghost story being felt along his back. The mist was a surprise as he looked around, each breath seeming to take some humidity from the air as his mouth began to feel less dry as he began to look about. Humidity ? The word rang in his mind as he tried to figure it out with the dark of his eyes flicking from one side of the canyon to another and back again, before looking forward and behind.
This didn’t make sense. Why would there be mist in the desert? During the day? Was this what changed the time of day? Is this ma-?
His thoughts were caught off as his heart jumped from his chest to his throat as, like his nightmares, he began to hear the sound of pistons akin to that of a train, and with it the bell that would go with it. The fear was almost overwhelming, he didn’t think of the fact that trains need rails, he just didn’t want to go back, leading him to run. His feet did their best to move as fast as he could but as the mist continued to be around him, the former riverbed became dangerous, rocks and old, dried wood littered the path as he tried to run, tripping him up along the way, especially as the sounds of a ringing bell grew louder as the train grew closer. I don’t want to go back. Please, anyone save me! The kid thought as he did his best to pray to whatever gods who would listen, yet, instead of bringing him luck, shortly after his foot caught something, some kind of bush as he would tumble forward, his breath being quick and shallow as he panicked.
When looking up, he knew it was too late as the lantern light from a lamp on a smoke box seemed to illuminate him as the sound of the engine’s wheels shrieked as the train behind him came to a stop. Shutting his eyes tightly, he was ready to accept his fate, hearing the yells of a goblin behind him but instead in a more suave voice than angered, he heard the call: “All aboard the Ghostlight Express…” The voice was a lot more relaxed, almost sounding with an accent he didn’t recognize, and behind it was the sound of some kind of tune, the tune that would ring within cities to which the warbands would stop at on occasion. The sounds of strings and a soft hymn seemingly wriggled through the air, being a lot more calming than what he would expect from a train. Opening his eyes, the kid found himself on wood made of mist laid under a dark rail of the same mist, the feeling of unease rose in his throat as finally he turned to look to who beckoned to him.
What stood on the train appeared to be a frog-person of some kind, his eyes seeming unfocused as one eye was closed as he joined the tune that was more evident to be coming further within the train. The train itself seemed ancient, the black iron that lined it seemed to have seen much travel with how it was weathered to a more rough surface and the light was a blue-green instead of an orange like most would expect. All the while looking past the frogman, the train seemed to stretch way beyond, into the mists. A look of confusion was dotted on the kid’s face as this man seemed to notice he looked at the train now, a soft smile coming across his face as he spoke once more: “Now then, your ticket please Mr. Coal.”
The name this man gave was right, Coal, Gideon Coal. The look he gave went from confusion to being mystified from this, normally he would feel fear as those who knew him likely would have returned him to the warbands, but this was different. Was this the new start he was searching for? It seems inviting, but it was on a train, and Gideon really did not want to return to being on a train, leaving him to just stare at the frogman, just speechless as he tried to string words together, all without luck.
The conductor that seemed to beckon Gideon just continued to wait, with the soft smile slowly turning to a disappointed frown as he would lift his bow from the violin and blink each eye in succession before he spoke: “I know of your past friend, there is no worry for you to have here. Now, I suggest checking your waistband before that ticket gets any more uncomfortable.” Gideon just continued to look confused at the man before feeling a poking sensation. He knew the clothes he wore didn’t have pockets but why would he stash a ticket in his pants? Gideon continued to wonder as soon as he pulled out a ticket.
The ticket was orange with a metallic red lining along its edges, something fancier than anything Gideon has seen in his life, whether it was back home or with the warbands. The ticket was embellished with many swirls and curved lines with a design that seemed to resemble his mother from what his pops used to describe, but with it, what was now normal in his sight surprised him to be on the ticket too, running along the bottom and top of it ran chains that reflected in the same way his were heated when he was the fireman for that train as it used his body to fuel it. His breath quickened, but before he could question as to why the ticket was like this, the hand of the frogman seemed to touch the ticket and pulled it away. When looking up, Gideon saw the frog didn’t move, just holding the ticket as he looked upon it, his eyes seeming to soften more before he looked up at Gideon, the voice of the frogman seeming more somber as he spoke.
“I see you are at least connected with a fairly powerful djinn then… a friend of hers was aboard this train just a few years ago, it's rare we get a wandering soul such as yourself aboard after such tragedy.” The frog’s eyes looked to Gideon as he motioned aboard as the hymn of voices grew louder like moans and shouts as the train began to get ready, pushing him along as he went to join. Gideon rushed over, pulling himself into the passenger car, looking to the cab as all he could see over the tender was the same glow as what he saw with the lamp at the front, with the train beginning to move as it pushed on. The mist never left though even as the train went past.
Once out of the stairwell Gideon heard the door close on its own as he was face to face with the frogman, as he was handed a glass of water by one of the workers of the car. This man by the looks of things seemed to be in his older years, older than his father before he passed at least, although he was different, his body was seemingly translucent from the dark clothes he wore to even his skin and eyes. Still Gideon nodded, water was something he needed, slowly drinking as he did his best to try and rehydrate, speaking between sips as he did: “So… you said this was the ghostlight express, and that someone connected to my mom was on this train before… How did I get that ticket? Who are you?” Even though he tried not to be, Gideon was standoffish as he followed this seemingly conductor through the train, doing his best to keep up as he was obviously being lead somewhere, from workers cars to rooms and he was quick to respond:
“Well friend… that first question is harder to explain, but that second one is easy Mr. Coal, most call me the Stranger, or even The Vagrant, think of my role aboard this train as a ferryman to a boat if you may…” The Vagrant was surprisingly forthcoming with answers to Gideon, his eyes seeming to look back to check on him after every few breaths. Gideon had a feeling it was in attempt to calm him down given his tone gave to frustration mere seconds ago, with a pause lingering after the first answer as this Vagrant finally stopped at a door to a room that seemed to have some dust that had gathered on it, a room labeled as Live Ones . His froggy hands pried the door open and Gideon saw inside, a table with food on it, more food than he had ever seen in his life, not even close to what the warbands had pillaged as they stole mainly grain, while this table was luxurious with meats and sweets seeming to dot it as The Vagrant seemed to continue: “That ticket however, everyone has one as all who live on the mortal plane take a trip on this train one day, whether they are a wayward soul such as yourself or a soul such as that friend of your mother, I believe you said. I suggest resting here before we meet again, as wayward souls such as yourself don’t often stay for just one ride while being on the edge of death.”
Gideon didn’t pay attention to all of what The Vagrant said as he took the offer as a go ahead to begin to eat, as he climbed onto the benches of the cart, his long hair seeming to droop to the sides as he ripped the leg off of some kind of roasted bird and began to rip into it. The juice flooded into his mouth, almost bringing a tear to his eye as he finally had something that tasted as good as his father’s old cooking, leaving his face with a large smile as he went to look at the Vagrant just to see a closed door. Gideon’s face soon rested before frowning with a disappointed smile of his own as he wanted to thank him for taking him aboard but he did his best to get comfortable.
Eating more, and drinking more water, Gideon grew sleepier, his eyes seeming to flicker as he remembered what the Vagrant said about him being a wayward soul. He didn’t know what exactly that meant but he hoped it wasn’t bad as he began to drift to sleep, his eyes being left to just wander the cabin he was in, seeing signs of previous passengers, dried blood, a black feather, and what he could guess was a mushroom, seeming to poke from under the other bench. His mind began to wander with ideas of possible connections these could have had, maybe they hunted slavers, maybe they saved people, but he didn’t know, at least he didn’t know their story yet, as the child Gideon began to fall asleep, finally being able to rest properly after years of being in servitude to those who killed his only family, he felt, free.