Garrika hit the roof of the train with both boots.

The impact ran through her legs, but she bent with it and kept her balance. Snow whipped across the metal around her, carried by wind strong enough to shove most people sideways. The train stretched beneath her like a wounded beast, long and dark under the storm, with emergency lights pulsing through the white haze.

Meka landed ahead of her without a sound, already crouched near one of the roof access panels.

Behind them, Eldric descended along a pale line of mana that had drawn itself through the storm. He touched the roof with the calm of someone stepping into a quiet room rather than onto a damaged train in the middle of a terrorist attack.

Narak came down heavier, boots grinding against the metal. He looked toward the cargo section and immediately cursed. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

"They knew where to place the charges," he growled, kneeling near a scorched seam along the roof. "That wasn’t random. Whoever planned this had information on the train’s structure."

Eldric crouched near the mark, one hand moving through the air.

White-gray lines appeared around his fingers, tracing paths over the damaged plating. The lines spread, bending toward the cargo cars, then branching back through the passenger wagons.

"They wanted the train stopped, not destroyed," Eldric said. "The route is locked, emergency formations are strained, and the outer mana lines have been forced into a defensive loop."

Ilyra’s voice came through the communication crystal.

"I have sight from above. No large group outside yet. Storm’s hiding too much, but I see tracks near the snow ridge. Could be retreat constructs."

"Meka," Eldric said.

"Already going."

The hawk-blooded scout launched herself forward, vanishing across the roof in a blur of snow and motion.

Toval dropped next, shield folded against his back, followed by Saaren with his medical case secured at his side. The vampire looked down through a cracked roof window, red eyes narrowing.

"Passengers below. Sleeping gas, most likely. Some blood."

"Then we move," Eldric said.

Narak opened the access panel with three quick turns of a tool built into his brace. The lock resisted once, sparked, and gave way. He sniffed at the mechanism in disgust.

"Bad work."

Garrika glanced at him. "It opened."

They dropped into the train.

The first carriage they entered was a passenger car, and the smell hit Garrika before her eyes finished adjusting. Gas, fear, blood, expensive perfume, metal heated by damaged mana lines. People lay across seats and along the aisle, unconscious. Some still breathed calmly. Others had been wounded during the stop or after it.

And there were bodies.

Attackers.

Several of them.

Garrika’s ears rose.

She had expected resistance. Orders shouted through masks. Weapons drawn. Maybe civilians being used as shields. Instead, the men who should have been guarding the wagon were dead on the floor.

One had his throat opened. Another lay with a broken neck, head twisted at an angle that made even Garrika pause. A third had been cut so precisely across the ribs that the wound looked less like a desperate struggle and more like execution.

Ilyra entered through the rear door a moment later, rifle held low.

"Well," she said, taking in the wagon, "someone started without us."

Saaren moved immediately to the passengers, kneeling beside an elderly woman whose breathing was shallow. He opened his medical case and pulled out a thin vial filled with silver liquid.

"Gas is alchemical," he said. "Designed to sleep, not kill. Those who died here were killed by weapons."

Toval took position near the door, shield unfolding into a broad blue arc.

Eldric walked through the wagon without rushing, studying the corpses and the marks along the floor.

"One or two fighters," he said. "Efficient. They moved through before we arrived."

Narak grunted. "Passengers?"

"Unlikely for most of this," Eldric replied. "This was not panic."

There were many strong people on a train like this. Guards, nobles, hired blades, academy teachers, guests heading to a famous Conclave. Whoever had done this was capable, but that did not narrow the answer enough to few possibilities.

Saaren uncorked the vial and let the silver liquid rise into mist between his fingers. He guided it over the nearest passengers, careful not to waste a drop.

A beastkin man stirred first, coughing violently. His eyes snapped open, unfocused and terrified.

"Where... what happened?"

Saaren placed a gloved hand on his shoulder before he could sit up too quickly.

"You were exposed to sleeping gas. Stay down and breathe slowly."

The man blinked at him, then at the others.

"Who are you people?"

Toval answered from the door, voice low and steady.

"The First Concord."

The passenger clearly did not understand.

Saaren continued while treating another woman. "We serve under The Concordant Wardens of the Council. You are under Council protection. Follow instructions and you will live longer."

That reached the man better than comfort would have.

More passengers began waking as Saaren worked. Some coughed, some cried, some asked for relatives or companions. A human merchant with blood on his forehead tried to stand and immediately fell back into his seat.

Ilyra caught him by the shoulder before he hit the floor.

"Sit. If you faint again, I’m leaving you there."

The merchant stared at her.

"She means she will help," Saaren said without looking up.

"I meant what I said."

Garrika moved down the aisle, checking under seats and behind luggage spaces. Her nose separated smells one by one: sleeping gas, blood, fear, old leather, gunpowder residue, frost from the broken seals. No living enemy in this car.

She stopped near the door to the next wagon.

"There’s more blood ahead."

Eldric looked toward her.

"Hostile?"

"Some. Civilian too."

His expression remained grave. "Toval, keep this car sealed. Saaren, wake only enough passengers to move the wounded away from the aisle. Ilyra, with me. Narak, check whether the emergency lock between cars can hold if the train shakes again."

Narak was already kneeling near the mechanism. "It can hold if no idiot touches it."

"Then make sure no idiot touches it."

"With pleasure."

They advanced into the next car.

This one had fared worse.

A private lounge had been turned over, tables cracked, windows webbed with protective formations under strain. Two passengers were dead near the far wall, killed before the gas finished taking them. Three attackers lay nearby, one with a dagger buried through the eye socket, another with his chest split open by mana pressure, the last missing half his throat.

Ilyra let out a low whistle.

"Whoever’s doing this is very committed."

Eldric’s magic lifted around him again, white lines sketching themselves through the air. They moved along blood trails, footprints, disturbed mana, broken formations.

"The fighting is moving toward the cargo section," he said.

Garrika’s ears twitched.

A sound reached them through the train.

Distant at first.

Metal bending.

A detonation, smaller than the first but much closer to the cargo cars.

Then another impact, heavy enough to make the floor tremble under their boots.

Passengers behind them screamed as the train shuddered.

Eldric raised one hand, and the white lines in the air all bent in the same direction.

Cargo.

His voice turned firm.

"Leave stabilization teams here. We move."

Garrika tightened the straps on her gauntlets and stepped forward with the others.

Ahead of them, another crash tore through the train, and this time the storm outside was not loud enough to swallow it.