Night Train — Italy
The train clattered along the tracks, dim lamps swaying overhead. Passengers whispered nervously as the priest walked slowly down the aisle, pausing at seats, murmuring fortunes in his gravelly voice.
Most rolled their eyes, brushing him off as a rambling old man. But every so often, a gasp echoed—something he said rang too true.
The boy—the one who had fought the goons and brought the girl to the café—watched with mild curiosity. His friend nudged him. "Go on, ask him. Let's see what kind of nonsense he feeds you."
The boy leaned back, smirking, and called out, "Alright, Father. Tell me my future then."
The priest stopped, his shadow stretching across the boy's seat. Slowly, he leaned closer, his eyes sharp, piercing.
"You," the priest murmured, "fought five men in a narrow street just hours ago. You carried a frightened girl by the hand. And when the last of them fell, you brought her to safety."
The boy's smirk slipped away. His friend froze, wide-eyed.
"H-How do you—?" the boy began.
The priest straightened, his beads clicking in his hand. "The past reveals the path of the future, my son. You think you're just a fighter, but your story has only begun. Protect the girl… for she is not as ordinary as she seems."
The train rattled on into the night. The boy sat in stunned silence, his heart pounding. His friend whispered hoarsely, "Bro… how did he know that?"
But the priest had already moved on, leaving the boy staring at the floor, questions spiraling in his mind.
The boy pushed through the crowded carriage, boots pounding against the floorboards as he chased the priest. His friend scrambled after him, muttering, "Bro, you're crazy—he's just some old man!"
The priest finally stopped between two carriages, the dim light swinging above them. The boy stepped closer, breath heavy.
"You!" he said, eyes narrowed. "How did you know about those goons? About the girl I saved? You weren't there!"
The priest's gaze was calm, almost pitying. "The past is easy to read, boy. Shadows cling to you. I saw the fight written in your stance, in your bruises. You hide nothing from eyes that know where to look."
The boy's jaw tightened. "Then what about my future? If you're so wise, tell me what's next."
For the first time, the priest's expression softened, as though he were peering far beyond the rattling train and into something unseen.
"Your future does not lie with the girl you helped today," he said slowly. "That was but a kindness—a passing thread. But soon, someone will come into your life. Someone… special. She will change your path forever. Protect her, and your soul will burn brighter than any star. Fail her… and you will be consumed by darkness."
The boy froze, chest rising and falling fast. His friend shifted uneasily behind him. "Special? What does that even mean? Who is she?"
The priest only placed a hand on the boy's shoulder for a fleeting moment. "You will know her when you see her. She is not here… but she is coming."
Then, without another word, the priest stepped back into the crowd and was gone, leaving the boy staring into the swaying shadows of the train.
His friend whispered, "Bro… you okay?"
The boy didn't answer. His fists unclenched slowly as he turned back toward his seat, his thoughts tangled around the words that wouldn't leave him:
She is coming.
Eros slumped back into his seat, the train rocking gently beneath him. The priest's words looped in his head like an echo he couldn't escape.
"She is coming… someone special… protect her."
His fists tightened against his knees. He had fought countless battles without fear, but this—this strange prophecy—left him unsettled in a way no blade or fist ever had.
Across from him, his friend snapped a roasted nut in half and sighed. "Bro, you've been staring at the floor for twenty minutes."
Eros didn't answer. His gaze stayed fixed on the blurred night rolling past the window.
"Seriously," his friend groaned, smacking the armrest, "stop thinking about that priest nonsense. You're gonna lose your mind at this rate."
Finally, Eros looked up, his sharp eyes glinting in the dim light.
"I can't stop thinking about it," he admitted quietly. "What if he's right?"
His friend leaned back, throwing his hands up. "Ugh. Enough, Eros. Just forget it. Old man's probably scamming people for free meals anyway."
But Eros only turned back to the window, his reflection staring back at him, haunted and restless.
She is coming.