The corner of Emery's eye twitched. A curt nod and a grunt, then he was ignored. Eerie silence lingered in the compartment. It broke only by Fynn's weird breath, a gasp sounding more like constipation.

"Fellas," He attempted, his tone light and playful as the brothers frowned. "Can't we all just get along? We're making history today, my friends. Discovering magic previously thought impossible? Come on! Who's excited?" He threw his hand up in the air, but no one followed. Slowly, he lowered his arm back to his side.

Silas leaned back in his chair, hands still cuffed together. He really couldn't be bothered with Fynn as he attempted to engage everyone in travel songs. At some point, the boy had gotten up from his seat to dance to his own music, Monroe rightfully scolding him to sit back down. 

To know that these people were feared by the world for their god-like powers felt shameful. Silas had just about enough of it, turning his head to gaze out at the passing mountains. That's when it caught his eye. A cloud of black. It fired through the air faster than any bullet Silas had ever seen.

He'd only witnessed it for a second, unable to get out a single breath of air before it collided with the train.

Everything veered to the right. Wheels became unsteady, forced out of the track. It whipped to the side, throwing its patrons, and slammed down hard against the trees lining the forest, metal grinding to a sharp halt.

Silas had closed his eyes during the impact. When he opened them, everything was at an angle. Their luggage was thrown. Remarkably the window of their compartment was completely intact, though a branch had shattered the hallway glass. 

Silas had landed softly against Emery. His hands were still bound, making it tricky to push away. After a moment of everyone collecting themselves, Monroe sat up. 

"What the hell was that?" He hissed, stepping over Fynn to pull their compartment door open. It rattled, refusing to budge. A metal fragment in the handle was bent, wedging inside the lock. Swearing, he wasted no time. Hand burning a dull mix of yellow and orange, the metal began to shift. Tiny pieces from the shattered handle slid out of the lock until the door was freed. He crawled out, the door crashing back down when he let go of it, smashing Fynn's hand. 

The boy balked, pulling his hand close to his chest. Then he pulled himself into the hallway.

"Both of you, stay here. Em," Monroe turned, his jaw clenched and his nose wrinkled as if the following words made him want to throw up. "Watch him."

"Hey! Wait!" Fynn hollered after him, and the door snapped shut. He tripped over the tree limbs that twisted around the compartment's hallway. "I can help!" His voice was muffled and fading, in a desperate hurry to catch up with the Vazeer. 

Once it was silent, Silas reached for the door. 

"Don't move," Emery warned, cocking the pistol in his hand with a sharp click. It felt cold against Silas's skull, pressed to his flesh. "Our orders were to remain in the train car."

"Why the gun?" 

Emery pulled the pistol away, only slightly. "What?"

Turning to him, Silas looked down the barrel, expression blank. "Where's your light?" 

"None of your concern. Sit back down." 

Silas looked the man over. From the waxy burned skin of his fingertips to the tired, dark shadows under his eyes. About the same age as him, Silas assumed, he recalled what Fynn had told them in the car to the station. As a military member and brother of not one but two Vazeer, indeed, he was in the fortunate position to properly hone his skills from a young age.

"A Carpathian that can't use magic," Silas thought aloud. "I didn't know there was such a thing."

"Sit your ass back down and shut the hell up."

Silas smirked. "Hit a nerve, have I?"

"Sit."

He did. Or tried, at least. Silas leaned against an invasive branch that had struck the side window, glass shattered at their feet. His eyes never once pulled away from the weapon clenched in the demon's hand. Even if Silas died, there would be a way to find Pyra and win the war. He had no choice but to obey and survive.

A deafening explosion echoed a few cars down, rumbling through each compartment and thrashing theirs.

With one glance at each other, both scrambled to their feet, watching as flashes of magic's light struck like lightning through the thick cloud of black smoke. Iron permeated the air as people screamed with each stroke, the mayhem drawing nearer.

Then came silence as only a single silhouette left the car. A woman. Blood was splattered across her face like war paint. Jet black hair draped long around her slender shoulders, the dark blue fluorescence wrapped around her like a halo. And her eyes were burning amber.

Paralyzed, Silas didn't even flinch. He couldn't. Knives of ice balanced in her open palm like claws, the tips dripping fresh with red. 

For a brief moment, it seemed she would overlook Silas, but there was something that puzzled her, something that made her hesitate. Eyes. The green was so atypical for an Ezterrian. "How curious," she muttered, bringing her other hand up. Two stones were clenched around her wrist and bejeweled to a silver herringbone chain. Obsidian and cerulean.

The blue burst into coruscant life from the gem, a light vapor embracing her. Silas knew she would kill him, and there was literally nothing he could do to stop her.