The sound of uncaring hunger echoed through the restaurant. A large arm reached out and grabbed another piece of delicious meat. Sounds of supreme bliss escaped Benny while the red sauce slid down his thick neck.

With another big piece of meat in hand, he ate the most flavorful dinner he had ever had. Even the bones didn't stop him and were crunched underneath his teeth. He took care of them. After all, how is he supposed to eat without them?

Unbothered, he crawled on the floor and ate. What he loved most, he did. Eat. What it was that he ate, he didn't care. Dishes fell from tables as he pushed them aside. He searched and searched yet couldn't find more. Had he already eaten all? Impossible! Within his mind he knew, there should be more.

His frenzy eyes searched the room. The meat tasted so full of flavor, had such texture and savory sauce. Although it was a bit raw…

Benny came to an abrupt halt. All his thoughts disappeared. His black eyes focused solely on the most perfect meal he had ever seen. With drool on his chin, he squirmed over the floor to it. His hand reached out…

“That is not very appropriate, don't you think so?”

He looked up at the angelic voice speaking to him. Gem-like purple eyes stared back at him. With a tilted head full of untainted white hair, she observed him with curiosity.

Then, she reached forward. Her upper body bending down from the chair, she grabbed his chin with her slender fingers. A bracelet on her wrist. A warm smile on her red lips.

“How about you have a look at what you ate, hmm?”

…

The light flickered overhead, as if unsure whether it should be on or off. A drop of blood splashed onto the floor, mixing into the already existing puddle. Fran brought a hand to her lips and wiped the blood from her bit lips. Her other hand still clutched the revolver's handle. The faint, barely visible inscriptions already without luster again. Fran turned around, away from the boy's remains and….

A mess of humans reached out to her. Screeching, screaming, staring. Drool dripped down from their mouths. Countless hands grabbed at her from within the jumbled mess consisting of humans. The atrocity crawled and stretched closer to her. A ravenous hunger in their eyes.

Fran blinked once and numerous glowing eyes stared now back at her. Through the open passageway, the passengers of the other wagon did all to have a look at her. Their eyes bulged as they almost fell from their seats while leaning over to have a better look.

She clenched the revolver handle even harder to suppress the shudder running through her. Taking a step forward, Fran moved towards the previous wagon, past the disfigured remains of this wagon's guests. The gleaming eyes of numerous colors still stayed on her unwavering, unblinking.

Not blinking, keeping them in her vision at all times, Fran moved closer to the passage connecting the two wagons. Once in, she closed the door leading to the last wagon, hiding what had happened, what she had done.

Fran stood at the door while the relentless eyes still stared at her. With a deep breath, she walked onto the train's second last wagon. Her footsteps echoed and the breathing of the passengers turned sharp.

As she passed by them, she felt their eyes bore into her back. A hand reached out to her from within the seats, but when she stared at the culprit with her greyish-pink eyes, it quickly retreated. Another hand tired, yet escaped just the same as the first. A third did the same. Then a fourth. A fifth followed before she reached the end.

She placed her own hand on the door leading to the passage to the next wagon. Don't turn around, she told herself. The stares still on her back. Don't turn around. A breath on her neck. Don't turn around. An indescribable screech in her ear. Don't turn around.

The door closed and the dread coursing through her body escaped with it. That was no shadow from the darkness outside. Fran took a deep breath. How could she have missed this earlier?

An angel.

…

Fran walked along the aisles while rubbing her ear. A quiet presided over the row of seats she passed by. The majority of passengers just stared at their hands with a lowered head. An occasionally whisper, here and there. The few knights she saw, inexperienced and young, behaved the same way.

She appreciated the quiet. Her ear still ringed from the angel's scream and the silence helped. She really hadn't expected an angel to be on board. It at least seemed to be shackled to that wagon, so she could ignore it for now. However, it made her think of eyes hiding similar divinity.

Fran's light footsteps echoed as the unnatural quiet seeped into the atmosphere. While walking between the aisles, she observed the oddly peaceful guests. What had happened while she dealt with the shadow?

The silent, serene quiet crept over every wagon she passed through. She kept a hand on the revolver in her pocket while she walked. Yet, she felt something tucking at her mind. Telling her to relax, to let it go, and have a seat. It invaded her thoughts and tried to overtake them.

Yet, the deeper it reached, the more it struggled. Fran strolled with a tranquil expression through the eerie quiet. Her eyes glowing stronger, the more the angelic voice talked to her.

The voice's purity and sublimeness compelled her to think of a certain pair of eyes again. A gem-like pair of purple obscuring divinity in them. The same purple now smiled at her as she entered the train's restaurant.

“It seems you had a little meeting with my companion?” The angelic voice said to her. A face framed by pristine white hair leaned languidly on a hand while the other brought a wine glass to her mouth. Fran nodded in response.

The cozy bistro had a lavender scent in the air. The golden light overhead illuminated the clean and orderly placed furniture. At a window, the woman sat and observed Fran with a lovely smile.

The restaurant may be clean, yet, Fran could see the faint trails of light left behind by a shadow throughout it. She didn't mind as it meant less work and walked towards the woman. The lack of patrons previously here also didn't make her hesitate. It just made her more resolved to get rid of those things before more die unnecessarily.

Just like that little boy and those other passengers…

“A turbulent night for the beginning of the winter season, don't you think so?” The woman said as Fran sat down opposite of her. She pushed another glass filled with wine towards her but Fran shook her head. She didn't like wine very much. She always preferred brandy.

“My name is Kristine, a delegate of the church as you probably guessed from my little companion, and you would be?” Kristine asked, not caring too much about the rejected wine. She took it in hand and just drank from it herself.

“Fran,” answered Fran briefly. Also resting her head on her hands, she stared into the wonderful purple eyes. Deep, deep within those eyes richer in color and clearer than any gemstone, she lost herself. Deep, deep in the twisted divine light hiding in them. Even as it howled at her with an inhuman screech. As it burned through her mind.

“Like them?” Kristine whispered as she brought a hand to Fran's cheek.

Fran leaned into the warm hand stroking her face and closed her eyes in comfort, not bothered by the divine's endeavor. Her glimpse, however, had revealed what she had already guessed. Kristine's divinity solely came from her eyes. The eyes of a god. The church really had gotten great gifts from the gods.

The clock on a wall moved with a tick-tock sound. While the darkness outside stayed unchanging as the train moved relentlessly through it. At least, until a wail broke the tranquility.

The train shook, trembled. From left to right as more wails came from the front. An abrupt jerk. Tables and stools fell over. Decorations on the wall followed. Lamps shattered against the ceiling. Screams echoed through the train. As the last piece of glass broke on the floor, Fran opened her eyes. The train ride had come to an unexpected stop.

“How many more of those are on board?” Kristine asked in a soft tone. Their table still stayed perfectly fine amidst the chaos surrounding them.

“Four,” answered Fran as she moved away from the warm hand. They had tricked her this time. Baiting her to go to the last wagon, while preparing an ambush here. They must've felt her gaze through the window, something she didn't take into account. However, their plan got interrupted by Kristine's presence here.

“I see. Take care then, my dear,” Kristine said with a most enchanting smile. She stood up and leaned over the table. With a hand, she parted Fran's blonde hair and planted a kiss on her forehead. Once done, she stroked Fran's face again, which had gained a somewhat rosy color, and continued, “My companion will feel lonely if I move any further than this so I can't help more~”

Fran nodded and moved away from the table, Kristine's smiling eyes on her back and a warmth on her cheeks. Glass pieces cracked beneath Fran's shoes. She avoided the fallen furniture and opened the door leading to the bar.

The lamp overhead swung rather chaotic around while its light reflected in the broken glass on the floor. The tall bartender looked with regret at his broken pair of glasses. He reached into a pocket of his waistcoat and put on the new pair he fished out from it. The only replacement he had.

Now being able to see properly again, he squinted at the situation. A half-drunk man laid on the floor with a bleeding head. A husband tended to the cuts on his wife's arms. Another lady clutched her head in a corner and squealed quietly. Others had similar frantic outbursts. He sighed and with a shake of his head went over to the unconscious man.

Fran observed his calm manner for a few moments before she continued to walk towards the next wagon.

A usual passenger wagon, like the ones she had gone through earlier. She walked past the panicked and almost frenzied passengers. Even the staff were giving in to the fear amplified by the sudden stop. The quiet dread from earlier all but gone. However, aside from the frantic behavior, she didn't find anything else. So, she entered the next wagon.

Another normal passenger cart. Rows of seats with an aisle in between leading to the next wagon. Trunks laid all over the floor. Cracked glass laid under the windows, a howling breeze coursed through them.

Measured steps forward, Fran walked with a hand on her beloved revolver. Only a tiny light flickered above, as the others had shattered. She passed by empty seats, the broken windows above them let the darkness outside seep in.

The tiny light above flickered its last and her eyes began to glow again, while fixated on the door before her. Slow, precious steps forward. Her hand held the revolver and pulled it out. A frosted window in the door. A black silhouette behind it. It breathed onto the glass. Stared at her.

The gun was raised. Fran took another step forward. The finger on the trigger. Another one froward. It grinned. Another step. The metal clanked against the glass. Her eyes glowed and-

A scream blared in her ears. High-pitched. Inhuman. It ruptured her eardrums. And before she could react, a hand pulled at her. She hit the seats as it dragged her away. Her head collided with the window frame. It dragged her up. It threw her. The endless darkness spinning before her eyes. Then, a sudden force pushed her back. With a groan, she crashed and rolled on the train roof. When she came to a stop, she almost lost consciousness.

Her body cried to her mind. However, another screech sounded. With heavy eyes, she looked at it. Its white eyes meeting hers. Its deformed mouth halting mid-scream. The greyish pink glow of Fran stared wide open at it.

With a shaking hand, she raised her revolver. Inscriptions began to glow in the color of her eyes on it. The shadows white eyes flared yet it stood still. A loud sound echoed. The force hammered through her body. She let her arm fall. Blood droplets fell from her mouth and head. Fran heaved and pushed herself to sit. She took deep breaths and stared at the decaying shadow at her side.

The glow on her gun began to fade, however, her eyes stayed the same. Shining in greyish pink. Her body pained and bled, yet it couldn't compare to her mind. A scratching scraped away at the borders of her mind. A roaring at the corners made her almost lose her senses. A whisper tempted her.

This was the price of her eyes. The more she gave in, the more they haunt her. Seeking for a place in, for so they could escape their prison.

The shadow faded away, making it one less to deal with.