Page 6 of Demon Lord's Proposal

SAGE

Iwake to the gentle sway of a train car, my eyes fluttering open to adjust to the soft amber glow of overhead lights. Plush red seats stretch in neat rows before and behind me, the aisle carpeted in a deep burgundy. Outside the windows, an inky darkness presses against the glass.

"Where...?" I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper. Confusion settles over me like a heavy blanket.

My fingers brush against the soft fabric of my clothes. I look down, surprised to find myself wearing a simple, shimmering gown instead of my wedding dress. The material seems to shift and change as I move, catching the light in impossible ways.

A polite cough draws my attention. A stewardess stands in the aisle, smartly dressed in a crisp uniform of charcoal and gold. Her smile is pleasant, but her eyes... I can't quite place what's off about them. They seem to swirl with an inner light, like galaxies trapped in glass.

"Would you care for any refreshments, miss?" she asks, gesturing to a cart laden with an assortment of snacks and drinks. I notice that some of the items look familiar–chocolate bars, bags of chips–while others are completely alien, pulsing with strange colors and occasionally moving of their own accord.

I stare at her, then at the cart, then back at the stewardess. "I... where am I?"

The stewardess's smile doesn't waver. "I think you know, miss."

A chill runs down my spine. Memories flicker through my mind: the wedding, Joesiah's betrayal, the trial, the executioner's ax...

"No," I whisper, my hands flying to my throat. I feel no wound, no pain, but the memory of cold steel is vivid and terrifying. "No, no, no. This wasn't supposed to happen."

The stewardess tilts her head, her expression a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "And yet, here we are."

I shake my head vigorously, as if I could dislodge this reality. "This is impossible. I can't be... I'm not..."

"Dead?" the stewardess supplies helpfully. "I'm afraid that ship has sailed, my dear. Or rather, this train has left the station."

My breath comes in short, panicked gasps. I look around wildly, searching for an escape, a way out, anything. That's when I notice the pull cord above the windows.

Without thinking, I lunge for it, yanking it hard. "Next stop!" I shout. "I need to get off at the next stop!"

The stewardess doesn't try to stop me. She simply watches with that same enigmatic smile. "As you wish," she says softly.

A shrill whistle pierces the air, and the train begins to slow. The darkness outside the windows starts to thin, revealing glimpses of a landscape I can't quite comprehend. Impossible colors swirl in the mist, and shapes that defy geometry flash by.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a disembodied voice announces. "We are now arriving at Platform 66. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform. And remember, time is an illusion, so don't bother checking your watches."

The train grinds to a halt with a hiss of steam and a screech of brakes. The doors slide open, revealing a platform shrouded in mist. Beyond that, I can make out the vague outlines of buildings and moving figures.

I hesitate at the threshold, my heart racing–or is it? I realize with a start that I can't feel my heartbeat at all.

"Well?" the stewardess prompts gently. "This is your stop, miss."

I take a deep breath out of habit and step off the train. The mist swirls around my ankles, cool and slightly electric. As I move further from the train, the world around me begins to take shape.

The platform fades away, replaced by cobblestone streets. Buildings loom on either side, their architecture an impossible blend of styles from every era. People–if I can call them that–move about, their forms shifting and blurring at the edges.

A sign materializes in front of me, the letters rearranging themselves as I watch:

WELCOME TO THE AFTERLIFE

Population: ∞

"Enjoy your eternal stay!"

I stare at the sign, then at the bizarre world unfolding around me. The realization hits me like a physical blow: I'm really dead, and this... this is what comes after.

"Well," I mutter to myself. "I guess I'm not in Kansas anymore."

As if in response, a creature that looks like a cross between a cat and a shadow slinks past my feet, turning to give me a Cheshire grin before disappearing into the mist.

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