The floor of the metal carriage didn't belong to a magical train. As the initial shock faded from my mind, the cold reality settled into my bones. The heavy, industrial smell of diesel and stale sweat filled my nostrils. The hand that had grabbed my ankle in the dark wasn't a silver skeleton or a duplicate of Leo. It was just a desperate, dying man a common thief who had crawled into the cargo car of the commercial night train heading toward the coast, bleeding out from a gunshot wound he’d received at the train station.
"Help... me..." the man wheezed, his fingers losing their grip on my boot as his body went limp against the iron floorboards.
I didn't move. I sat there in the pitch blackness, my knees pulled tightly against my chest, listening to the heavy, rhythmic clack-clack-clack o
