I fold my body into a fetal position on the dusty concrete floor and dry heave, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead and flowing into my eyes. Its been like this for the past day ever since I managed to escape the Citadel. Using Sheryl's powers without her consent is never a pleasant experience. Once the initial rush fades, it feels as if I had swallowed a massive quantity of poison that my body needs to purge. My stomach contracts painfully, eliciting another moan from me, while invisible pins and needles jab all over my body. Jasvinder Krishnan, doctor, dashing playboy and all purpose man about town, now reduced to this state in an abandoned train station.

"Enjoying yourself?" I ask the unwelcome passenger in my mind. No response . Sheryl has retreated to the back of my head, a sullen, glowering presence that has no interest in conversation.

Accepting Sheryl's silence as a small victory, I slowly begin getting back up to my feet. I still feel weak and fatigued, but the worst of the episode seems to be over. At least there was no actual diarrhea involved. That would have been really messy and I have no convenient change of clothes. I walk over to a wooden crate filled with canned preserved food and open up a tin of ham and begin digging in.

Back at the Citadel, I had managed to fly over the wall unmolested, thanks to the confusion the Militia had been thrown into from the sudden appearance of the Tears of Iros. With everyone busy mustering and bringing the wall's guns online, no one had spared a second glance at an Auxilia flying out of the Citadel. Who in their right mind would charge headfirst into the Fallen? But I had the advantage of Sheryl's augmented speed behind me. It allowed me to breakthrough the Tears before the Fallen could complete spawning.

Which leads me to where I am now. The Railroad to Nowhere.

Atrocities were committed left, right and center during the Age of Strife. It was a war where no quarter was given by either the believers or the faithless. And in a notorious episode, the faithless posed this challenge to their opponents, if the Divines are so powerful, prove it by resurrecting your dead. Bulwarks were not so advanced in those days, and conventional forces could fight at parity.

Wait. That's not right.

Why were there faithless in the first place? The existence of the Divines had been conclusively proven. The argument should have been over at that point. And bulwarks are divinely powered weapons, able to easily destroy normal armies. Everyone accepts that the Age of Strife occurred and that account is part of the official history but -

Yes, it occurred but there was no great battle. The faithless did not even bother fielding their armies. They didn't need to. They had the -

"Agh." I groan in agony as a migraine threatens to split my head in two. My vision blurs for a moment before I manage to get my thoughts in order.

Right. The faithless and the believers were deadlocked as several battles had ended inconclusively. So the faithless prepared a grand display of defiance to the Divine's natural order. The faithless rounded up all the believers they could get their hands on, prisoners of war, men, women, children, it didn't matter. All the believers in faithless territory were slaughtered en-mass and their bodies loaded on to the trains which were sent here. So much innocent blood dripped from the train that the tracks were permanently stained.

This act was the straw that broke the camel's back. The Saint led all the believers in a grand prayer, beseeching the Divines to personally intervene. And intervene they did. The faithless were cast out of this reality, but at the price of the Saint's sacrifice. But the faithless were not done just yet, they extracted their pound of flesh and more from us before the exile. They even managed to -

It feels like a hammer had been slammed into the back of my head, sending me crashing back to the ground. Its this blasted place, the entire abandoned train station is cursed. Anyone who comes here would feel it. The unsettling atmosphere, the ominous silence, the fact that no animals would draw close to this place. No wonder it had been abandoned after the Age of Strife. Everybody learns very quickly to give this place a wide berth.

Which made it an ideal spot for an Operative supply cache. No wildlife or people to stumble on to their secrets.

I stifle a yawn while finishing my meal. I had slept poorly no thanks to the oppressive aura the train station had. Coupled with the withdrawal effects from using Sheryl's powers, I was certainly worse for wear. But I need to get moving soon. This place may offer protection from Valkyries or Yellow Roses looking for me, but once the things settle down at the Citadel, Don will be able to continue his hunt for me. And he is guaranteed to search the train station for my presence.

Operatives don't seem to be affected by the aura the train station has. I have seen Wu and Don sleeping like babies here while I toss and turn, unable to get a good night's rest. A cursed place being home to cursed people.

Its fitting.

I pack what supplies I can carry into a rucksack and set off into the concrete desert, my back against the morning sun. The question is, where do I go from here? Away from the Citadel is the obvious choice, but the tricky part is how to do that. I could make my way through the concrete desert by using the Operative caches as way points, eventually working my way up north. The problem with that idea is that the Operative caches were setup for Operatives in mind, specifically Operative travel times.

An Operative can travel much faster than most Valkyries. Don and Wu could make EX level speed in their bulwarks if they wanted. Sheryl, even as half starved as she is, is close to rank A, compared to my bulwark's natural speed of D. Without Sheryl's cooperation, there's no way I can make the journey without running out of supplies or divine energy part way. I could try forcing Sheryl to share her powers with me again, but that raises another problem. The withdrawal effects. I would fall sick somewhere in the concrete desert. Would I survive the experience?

Who knows.

There's the route the beast folk travel, heading for independent transmission stations and praying to Iros at each one. But I have no idea where those transmission stations are. Sheryl and Don never bothered to learn, since they can use their powers to zoom through the concrete desert. And using the Operative powers is much safer than relying on Iros's help. The goddess of mercy may be a benevolent force, but praying at an unreliably run transmission station carries all kinds of risks.

I morosely cross the blackened tracks of the Railroad to Nowhere and gaze off into the distance. Legend says that the tracks lead straight to the lands of the faithless. After they were exiled by the Divines, the track would just keep running into an infinite distance, vainly searching for its original masters. Keep following the tracks and you would eventually be lost in a place between worlds, never able to get back. A nice story, but the track in reality cuts across the concrete desert and eventually terminates at the Endless Empty, a blank, featureless plain that no one knows stretches out for how far. Any idiot who took up the dare to follow the tracks more likely died of starvation or exposure rather than being lost between worlds.

I could just disappear forever.

Forever in the Endless Empty. Walking the track.

No.

What would Thomas say if he knew what I was considering? He would be all alone. And Don would go after him to tie up loose ends.

No. I decisively turn away from the tracks and continue walking. I need to get to safety first. As long as I am alive and out of the Citadel, Don will be forced to hunt for me instead of starting something with Thomas. To keep Thomas safe, I need to live. And once my situation is more secure, I can think about reuniting with my husband. I clench my fist, feeling the determination stir in my heart.

Trade caravans do leave the Citadel on trips to the villages. I need to get to one of the highways that run through the concrete desert. There I can beg or borrow a ride. With my bulwark if need be. Once I'm in a village, I should be able to get a better sense of my bearings and plan out the next stage of the journey. So that's decided then. The road ahead of me is long.

And every journey starts with a single step.