Sablegate Underground Subway Station was like any other metropolitan transit hub, weathered but functional, humming with the low pulse of a city that refused to sleep.
Set between crumbling overpasses and corporate glass towers, the station was carved into the ground of a concrete plaza. Its signage hung from rusted rails, with neon letters spelling out "SABLEGATESUBWAY" in baby blue, alongside a decent-looking marten icon. Passengers and ordinary people flowed in and out of its wide stairwell like blood through veins, impatient and anonymous.
Inside, the air was thick with the scents of cheap instant coffee and the smell of any other typical commercial location. A voice echoed from the overhead speakers announcing the train arrivals in a tone that had long since lost urgency.
The floors were tiled in cracked grey ceramic, dulled by foot traffic and boot prints, just like any other fairly aged station. Old advertisements plastered the walls, posters promising synthetic health, digital love, and escape to better cities.
Nothing was wrong. Trains arrived on time. People came and went. Shoes clicked and vending machines operated. It was all… normal, but if you looked long enough, too long, the normalcy would begin to dim. Maybe it was how the light bulbs overhead flickered out of rhythm… or how the shadows of the escalator did not match the people standing there… or perhaps it was the way the missing person posters changed, but no matter what, they always had the same four faces, never changed, never removed.
There was something beneath this routine. Something you weren't meant to notice.
Today, in front of track 4, a Woman named Mary Vale stared at the fading face of her missing husband, on a flier that hadn't peeled in three months, something that wouldn't fly beneath normalcy.
Her eyes lingered on the image. It had been taken before everything collapsed… when he still smiled like a soon-to-be father. Her trembling hands caressed the paper.
'He wouldn't just leave. He wouldn't…'
Then she heard footsteps.
Sienna Veyrath's presence was like a ripple in still water—soft, calm, but unnatural.
"Still thinking about that guy?" Sienna asked.
Mary didn't look at her.
"Mary, I know this is hard to accept, but some people just aren't meant to stay. Sienna said with unsettling eyes. "He couldn't handle being a father, so he fled like a dog with his tail between his legs."
Mary's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
"He ditched you to start another life–"
"That's not true," Mary fought.
"Isn't it?" Sienna stepped forward, softly grabbing Mary's hand. "Do you want to spend the rest of your life waiting for someone? Someone who probably didn't love you the same way you loved him? Maybe you were just…convenient for him."
Mary suddenly felt hot.
"You should take this off; this ring is a symbol of a lie. Let it go, and you will be free."
She barely touched the ring.
FWOOOOOOSH!!!
Fire ignited instantly. Pale white flames erupted from Mary's hand. A reflex of spiritual energy. An ancient, raw memory scorched the air around her like a flare.
"GAH!" Sienna shrieked, staggering back as her sleeve burned, the fire crawling up her arm.
Mary's breath halted in her throat.
"No… I didn't—"
Sienna used her own spiritual energy to freeze her arm. As if that would work. Moments later, the ice shattered, and the flame roared, still as lively as ever.
"PUT OUT THE FLAME!" Sienna urged Mary, while falling to the ground. Sienna stared at her burning arm, blinking slowly. Then she began to laugh. There was no joy, only something hollow in the sound. Her glowing eyes flicked down to the smoldering remnants of her sleeve, then her nose began to bleed.
"This is what happens when you get too attached to your ghosts. Now your soul is rejecting the one who wants to help you." She muttered. Sienna reached up and scratched her neck.
A woman finally spoke. A woman with red hair, blue eyes, and freckles that sat on top of her face like a topping to her attractiveness. She had been standing still the entire time, her and another unrelated man, a very tall unrelated man in fact, with brown hair, golden tan skin, neon bronze colored Eyes, and a tattoo on his arm which spelled out Bitchkilla! As to a reference that correlated with his Lustbrand shirt. From the look of it, he was a diehard Lustbrand fan. Both that man and that lady had their eyes locked on the two of them.
"That lady is on fire!" she yelled.