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Chapter 2 — The Parcel at Midnight

Mara turned the parcel over under the hallway light. No return address, only her name in old ink. Inside lay a brass key and a ticket with no destination. A note in Eli’s hand: Trust the key. Midnight. Platform B. She went because questions hurt more than fear. The station was hollow and cold. The clock had stopped at eleven fifty-nine. When the train slid in, it carried no lights, only a wind that stirred her coat. In her pocket, the key grew warm. A single door sighed open. Beyond it, darkness shifted like a held breath. “Mara?” a voice asked, very close.
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