The wind rustled high above the rushing train, cutting against the speed of its motion like a blade slipping across stretched nerves.
Afternoon sunlight washed the surface of the train in gold, the steel body humming beneath its own weight.
Above it, space opened—not with violence, but with cold precision.
A sharp, flat-edged portal sliced into existence. Two figures stepped out onto the roof, their silhouettes stark against the sunlit sky.
The first woman's boots landed with a thud, her short skirt fluttering against her thighs. Her outfit clung to her like skin—tight, dark, intentionally provocative.
Her crop top strained across her chest, her legs bare, long, and confident. Her red hair curled like fire in the wind, her expression unreadable under the arrogance of youth.
Eventide.
She exhaled, rolling her shoulder with a shrug. "Still in motion."
Behind her came another.
She didn't leap.
