Welcome to the Aurum Reve

It took me a few moments to process what the man had said.

Aurum Reve? I wondered, the heck do those two words even mean? But more importantly, did that announcement just imply I killed myself?When did that happen? And what the hell am I wearing?

I looked down at myself and noticed that my old white t-shirt and summer shorts were replaced with a black trench coat wrapped around my body. It was light enough to not be uncomfortable, but bulky enough to notice that my clothing had changed. On my left hand, I still clutched onto my sketchbook: the only thing that seemed to remain the same from before the scenery changed.

I warily looked around the train, carefully using my observational skills to make sense of things. It was the one sense I could rely on—a skill I had developed in my time at art school, and probably the only good thing that came out of it.

The interior was somewhat old-fashioned, but not dilapidated and rundown. It was reminiscent of the Victorian-themed artworks I was forced to study. The floors were carpeted with a royal mix of red and yellow patterns, and the seats were cushioned in a forest-green fabric. Along the black walls were intricately designed Victorian lanterns that lit up the room and hung just above the large glass windows panelled across the train.

Each seat had a large rich-brown wooden table, and across from them sat a variety of humanoid creatures: dryads, elves, dwarves, beastmen, demons, spirits, and even some other humans in the bunch. Each one seemed to come from a different time period and a different world, but no matter who they were, everyone was dressed in the exact same trench coat as me, as if it was a customary school uniform or something.

As I kept looking around, I started to notice another thing they had in common. Somewhere on their bodies, they had... signs.

Some of them had chafed skin around their necks. Others had cleaned and stitched up marks around their arms where cuts or punctures had been made, and some had burn marks running along different parts of their body.

Signs of how they died, I guessed, noticing what these marks had in common as I recalled what the unknown announcer had said, or more specifically, how they committed suicide.

Instinctively, I began feeling around my own body for any scars or abrasions to try to figure out how I might've died.

Maybe I cut myself on something while moving in my sleep. I thought, or maybe the fan caught on fire from the summer heat because I forgot to turn it off. Or maybe—

Suddenly, a sleepy feeling washed over my mind, interrupting my thoughts as my head began to sway from the sudden fatigue.

What the…? I wondered, clutching my head, but I quickly began to connect the dots together as I recall the events of last night.

The sleeping pills… I realized, come to think of it, how many days in a row had I been taking them now? How much did I take last night? Was it too much? No. What kind of question was that? Of course it was too much. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here would I?

The idea hadn’t occurred to me sooner because I had been looking for a physical indicator, but in hindsight, not every suicide had to be the result of physical harm. It was probably why not everyone had a physical mark on them. Like me, they probably killed themselves through a method that targeted their insides, and were now suffering the subtle aftereffects of it internally.

I had always considered suicide an option, but it wasn’t something I would’ve actively gone out of my way to do. To the average person, even the simpler idea of harming your own body on purpose is outrageous. It was for me too, until I started starving myself. At first it was just a means to save money, but it slowly became an addictive method to cope with my failures—another one of my ways to blame something other than myself for not being able to land a job.

“I’m too hungry to continue searching,” I would reason, “and I can’t do anything about it because I’m broke.”

I still wouldn’t have gone through with ending my own life though. I had thought my mental state would be better than that. But now that I died, I realized I wasn’t too against the idea. Living had been hard, and knowing that I had been put out of its misery, even if involuntarily and with no option to go back, I found it hard to complain about. After all, it wasn’t like I wanted to go back to that life.

But who’s to say that here is better? I thought as a sense of uneasiness crawled over me.

I glanced around again, this time watching the others more closely. Their faces. Their eyes. I wanted to know how they were handling all of this. Were they just as lost as I was?

Some people were crying. Others stared blankly into nowhere. There were a few who jabbed or clawed at their eyes and necks, and other locations where their wounds were. Some were angry while doing it, while others seemed to be doing it out of curiosity. But no matter what they were doing, they were all muttering and mumbling different things.

“Why haven’t I died yet?”

“Where is this place?

“Is this my second chance at life?”

“Who are you?”

“Why can I understand what everyone’s saying?”

I paused at that last question. They had a good point: how was I able to understand what they were all saying if we were all from different worlds? Surely a language barrier should exist between us, right?

Without giving me a moment to think however, a loud bam suddenly came from a nearby window, and the passenger car we were in began to violently shake as if we’d been hit by something. A few people were knocked off their feet and flung into the walls while others like me clung onto their nailed-down seats and nearby tables for support.

What the heck was that?

“Ah this always happens…” the voice on the intercom suddenly sighs, reminding me of its existence, “at some point I should reallyyyy start telling them to calm down before the attack happens like I used to, but they never listen anyway.”

What? I wondered, is this a normal everyday occurrence in this world??? Am I actually in hell? Come to think of it, aren’t there a few religions out there that say that committing suicide puts you there?

Another loud crack rings out as everyone turns to look towards the windows again to see a pitch black creature attempting to break in.

Yup, I’m definitely in hell.

One creature quickly became five, as their numbers rapidly increased, seemingly spawning out of nowhere until they’re swarming at the windows, clawing and slamming their bodies against the reinforced glass.

Despite the terrifying sight before me, I didn’t seem to feel afraid, but rather, I was more intrigued by their appearance.

What were these things?

Each one looked different from the next, but they all shared a few things in common. Their eye sockets were hollow, and their bodies were slick and scaly like charred leather. They had wings protruding from their backs, and their bodies seemed to be emanating a dark cloud of what looked to be mist-like smoke. Some of them screeched like demons while others who seemed capable of speech were ominously mumbling different things that seemed to target different fears.

“They didn’t care.”

“Your death was meaningless. It accomplished nothing.”

“They were right about you all along.”

“Look where you are now. I told you to stop pursuing art.”

I froze.

That last one was directed at me.

“If you want to listen to your dreams instead of your father, you can go rot in the city with them for all I care. Let’s see how far those dreams of yours take you.”

Those words.

Those horrible, horrible words.

I thought I had escaped from them, but here they were again.

Ah… this truly is hell…

Throughout the commotion and all the chaos however, I manage to make out the quieter buzzing on the intercom once more, as whoever was there continues talking to himself.

“...luckily, Drascus’s train is nearby so the whole situation should be resolved pretty soon… Ah. Wait, that’s him right there isn’t it? Shit, I should probably get going then…”

Drascus? Who’s Drasc—

Suddenly, a deafening roar from outside the train cuts through the cries of the passengers, followed by a flash of searing purple light flooding the windows, instantly incinerating the attacking creatures.

The attack hits with a terrifying force, shattering the reinforced glass in an instant and heating up the cabin. I quickly scramble away from it, but the flames don’t even come near me, as if whoever was blasting the seemingly wild attack had it under perfect control.

Seeing that the beam of fire wasn’t going to hit us, we watch as it sweeps from right to left, scorching the remaining creatures as it passes our car and continues towards the next ones.

The remaining flames quietly flicker until they die out, leaving nothing but a broken window behind. Our nightmares had been obliterated in an instant, and we were all curious to see who had been responsible for it. One person scrambles to the windows and the rest of us quickly follow after.

There, floating in the sky, was a black dragon with dark blue and purple scales near its wings and underbelly. It was bulky… and huge, and hard to comprehend that this was the thing saving us with how menacing it looked as it continued breathing fire. After eliminating the remainder of the monsters, its azure-blue eyes slowly turned its attention towards us, giving our passenger car in particular a long hard stare before letting out a short, almost annoyed huff, and flying off.

It wasn’t until the dragon was far enough away that my line of sight opened up, and I began to take in the world outside the train as my eyes widened.

The ground was nonexistent.

We were floating in the air, riding along transparent golden tracks that stretched to nowhere. Beneath us was an endless sea of sunkissed clouds dyed in a mix of golden oranges and vibrant pinks by the surrounding sunset, and amongst those transparent clouds and strewn along the horizon in the distance, were tiny stars that twinkled brilliantly like beads of sugar sprinkled onto cotton candy.

It was breathtaking. It was magical. And I couldn’t believe I was witnessing all of this in person. There was no way such a sight could exist in the real world. It was as if one of my many stories had come to life.

Just then, the sound of footsteps clomped up from behind us and a pair of hands clapped together.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the same voice from the intercom suddenly announces in person, “I welcome you again to the Aurum Reve.”