39 - Vessel of Despair
"May!" Jessie's panicked scream came from somewhere to her right but it was muffled, her attention caught by Blue Peter, as his entire engine began shaking violently, his eyes had gone completely blank, his face slack and a haunting howl of pain and anguish came from his mouth.
It was as if some kind of horrible monster had been hiding inside his boiler and was now beating itself out of him. His face plate began to cave and buckle, the right side suddenly buckling as a monstrous black cloud burst forth like a swarm of bees.
Mayflower shrieked as the Black Smoke seemed to hover in the air for a while before it noticed her and it laughed a cold and grating sound. The cold came in a wave, a hideous dreadful thing that drained any hope or life within the area around Blue Peter. Instantly it poised itself like an angered cobra and struck at her, Mayflower letting out a scream of terror.
She wasn't able to move herself, her wheels seemed to be welded to the rails so she could only squeeze her eyes shut and wait for this monster, this thing to devour her.
There was a pause as Mayflower waited for the inevitable. But then there was nothing.
"You just mind yourself, monster!" An unknown voice shouted before her and the dread dissipated, retreating to be replaced by warmth and a golden light.
"Huh?" Mayflower was confused and opened her eyes. To her surprise, an engine had mysteriously appeared, putting itself between her and whatever remained of Blue Peter. She was about to question the engine when there was a shout from one of her friends.
"Thomas the bloody Tank Engine!?" Ceobahn exclaimed.
The little blue Tank Engine before her chuckled but said nothing more concentrating on the writhing, dangerous mass that had engulfed Blue Peter. Golden Light emanates from the little engine, the black mass hissing and snarling at the sight of it, scared of the little engine.
Mayflower was about to ask Thomas what was going on and how he had suddenly appeared out of thin air but she was interrupted as a horrid, snarling voice thundered from what remained of Blue Peter's face.
"Your kind took Mallard from us, little Golden Pest," the voice accused, its attention on Thomas. "You will not take this prize as well."
"You will leave Blue Peter's engine or I will make you!" Thomas seethed furiously but he was only met with laughter.
"We will not be so easily removed from this one, little flame," the Black Smoke's voice declared, its voice sending a wave of anxiety through those present. "Mallard did not want us, the Blue Duck resented us and bent us to his will. He was a rather unsuitable vessel but to serve us he did. This one, this one welcomes us and we feast upon decades and decades of anguish, pain and torment. He shall be better with us… He will be our toy."
"No!" Mayflower found herself crying out despite the dread that threatened to choke her. "Blue Peter was trying to do better! He wants to be better! Leave him alone!"
The only response she received was that of howling, grating laughter that felt like the cutter torch tearing at her soul.
"Only now do you want this poor engine," the Black Smoke sneered. "This engine, abandoned by all, so now only we remain, his soul devoured by anguish."
"Stop!" Thomas snarled furiously, an echo behind his voice and the golden glow around him growing stronger. "Leave Blue Peter alone! Free him from your putrid grasp!"
"We think not," the Black Smoke cackled. "We like this engine. We like how his constant pain feeds us. How he is sinking deeper into despair. Deeper into the abyss."
"Stop it!" Mayflower shrieked angrily. "Blue Peter is not your toy!"
"All engines are our toys!" The entity screeched. "You of Gold tried to repress us! Deny us! But we are your equal! We are the shadow to your light and we will not be denied!"
"Enough of this!" Thomas suddenly growled with a voice that sounded like it should have come from an engine that was five times his size. "Last chance, release Blue Peter willingly or I will banish you from his engine!"
The Black mass paused, contemplating the Tank Engines words, or perhaps, sizing up to see how much of an actual threat the engine was. Although not noticeable by the others, Mayflower saw the creature, whatever it was, visibly shrink away from Thomas.
"Your appearance is deceptive, little pest," the Black Smoke snarled at the Little Tank Engine who's patience had run thin.
"My name is Thomas!" Thomas corrected the writing dark entity. "And I'll make sure you remember it!"
The small engine purged forward, slamming his buffers into the huge bulk of a Peppercorn that towered over him, jolting him backwards. There was no reaction from the motionless face of Blue Peter but the Black Smoke shrieked and suddenly flared itself outwards, trying to intimidate the little engine but to no avail.
"You don't scare me!" Thomas roared furiously, his entire engine lit up with a golden light that made Mayflower winch in pain, it was so bright. Thomas continued, his voice steadily growing louder and more warped as if something, or someone was channelling power through him. "You're nothing but a parasite feeding off the minds of the vulnerable!"
"Parasite?!" The Black thing bellowed furiously. "We are not a parasite! We are what will happen should you give into despair! We are your fears and anguish manifest! We are everything you are!"
Mayflower squeaked in response, terrified of the creature's words.
"What does that mean?" The B1 trembled, worry written all over her face.
"Do not listen to it," Thomas ordered her, his voice reaching her and washing away any doubt in her mind. It was like a beacon of hope, washing away the anxiety that she had not noticed building up in her mind. "It is trying to make you second guess yourself, sow seeds of doubt in your mind, do not let it take hold of you."
Mayflower paused, contemplating the E2's words before steeling herself, her expression hardening and her resolve strengthening. Thomas was right, she knew that.
"What do we do?!" Came the panicked cry of Empress and Mayflower turned her attention to the engines that had gathered around, now realising that they were in peril.
"Ceobahn, help me get these engines away from here!" Mayflower called to the diesel and the trusty Class 37 gave a grunt of approval, immediately moving to couple up to the little engines and take them away. Mayflower looked back at the Sudrian Engine, golden light slowly pushing that eldritch writing mass away from them. "Will you be alright Thomas?"
The Sudrian Tank Engine gave a chuckle in response.
"Don't you worry about me Ms Mayflower!" He piped up, his voice hopefully and filled with reassuring presence. "I may be little, but little engines can do big things!"
Flying Scotsman was expecting to appear in a workshop or some kind of facility where Great Northern kept his secrets. Because Great Northern always had secrets, no matter what age or form he took, there were always secrets with him.
He knew North always thought them impressive, but to Scotsman, he was always just an arrogant fool with delusions of grandeur. Maybe they were, being Sir Gresley's confidant for the longest time, surely North would have had many a story to tell. But he wondered what on Earth was the engine doing for all that time.
He looked at the small cobblestone cottage that sat between a field and the edge of a dark, foreboding forest. It looked like a rather grim visage but despite that the place held an aura of warmth, of a positive energy. Like the air around him was charged with happiness. It was rather strange. The only other time he had felt this was when he had been submerged in the Golden Well at Ulfstead Castle on Sodor.
Perhaps North had built his cottage over a Golden Well or perhaps a natural reservoir of Gold Dust. It frustrated him. He knew that he was important, that his soul was somehow special but in a way he did not know. He could heal other engines and he could connect with others so easily. His stamina knew no bounds and he suspected that the only reason he had survived such hardship over his life was because of this Golden Soul of his. He frowned as the only other engine he knew had a Golden Soul, Truro, had been so greatly damaged by Mallard that the damage seemed permanent.
Perhaps North was trying to figure out a way to restore it. He knew that North and Truro had been speaking, North pointedly ignoring and going out of his way not to talk to Scotsman. He didn't understand why. Was his knowledge so dangerous that he could not share it with his own brother? It hurt him, knowing that North kept him out of the loop.
Scotsman gave an unknowing grunt of frustration. North had died and taken so much knowledge with him. It irritated Scotsman, not being able to properly utilise his abilities to help others. Why couldn't North have just told him instead of acting like an abashed teenager?
He was distracted from his thoughts when Gadwall suddenly gave him a bite on the ear. He yelped in pain, before glaring at the bird, turning to admonish him but Gadwall simply floated off his shoulder and perched himself on the stone wall that surrounded the cottage.
"Pointless!" Gadwall suddenly insulted him and Scotsman rolled his eyes.
"Yes, I know I am," Scotsman scolded the raven. "What else is new?"
The Raven looked at him, lowering its feathers and tilting his head to look at him quizzically.
"Not you!" The Raven corrected and Scotsman raised his eyebrow at the bird. Gadwall ruffled his feathers and gave a loud squawk before taking off and flying towards the front door of the cottage, perching on one of the thick vines that snaked its way over the surface of the building.
Scotsman was confused at the raven's strange actions.
"Were you this cryptic as an engine, Gadwall?" He asked as he climbed over the stone wall to join the raven at the front door.
"I channel Proteus's will in this world for he cannot channel it himself," the Raven answered. "Instead he sends his messengers, his guardians to protect those who live in anguish."
"That's not an answer."
"Then I do not know," Gadwall conceded. "You would have to ask Mallard. He's the only one that truly knew me when I was alive."
"What about that other brother of yours? The one that Mallard loved so dearly, I forget his name," Scotsman rambled.
Gadwall now looked away from him, his head hung low.
"Merlin."
Scotsman frowned as he stopped before the door to the cottage, his attention focused on Gadwall.
"He spoke to me, during the dark times when engines were being scrapped like forgotten toys," Scotsman mused quietly. "He loved Mallard very much. He wanted me to protect him. Fat lot of good I did there."
"At least you tried," Gadwall looked back at Scotsman, a look of gratefulness deep within them. "Most would not have."
"It's just, in my nature I guess," Scotsman shrugged and stared at the bird a little longer. "If Merlin is dead then can he- can he come back like you? As a silver soul, whatever that is?"
Gadwall was silent. He stared at Scotsman, somehow the raven managed to look incredulous.
"You… you really don't know anything do you?" Gadwall keened quietly and Scotsman shook his head and chuckled.
"No, it's not a new thing though. Everyone always likes to keep secrets from me," Scotsman smirked. "Maybe because I tend to be too honest with others? Or probably because they thought that I was stupid and wouldn't understand anything. Pretty Polly was the smart one, I always left things up to her when we were in charge of the Top Sheds. Even Truro kept things from me but he does so because I have a soft heart."
Gadwall stared at him for a long moment before looking away from Scotsman. He did not answer for a long while, instead staring out at the field before the cottage. Eventually, he turned back towards Scotsman.
"Merlin cannot resurrect like me or the other souls that Mallard devoured," Gadwall finally spoke. "Merlin died with full acceptance of his fate. He went where lost souls cannot follow."
"Silver souls are lost souls?" Scotsman asked, trying to comprehend.
"Silver souls are those trapped in the world between worlds, a purgatory. Sometimes their memories remain in the minds of those who live and refuse to let go and therefore they cannot move on. They can never return to being golden once more yet still they can return," Gadwall corrected. "I was there because…"
The Raven fell silent and Scotsman bowed his head. The Express lines LNER had never been quite the same after Gadwall's death. The bombing of the shed he was in marked a grim point at which the railway never seemed to recover. It was no wonder that Gadwall had never been able to pass on to whatever lay next.
"I'm sorry, Gadwall," Scotsman apologised and Gadwall stared at Scotsman silently.
"I don't think Mallard ever hated you," Gadwall suddenly spoke and his expression turned into one of confusion. "He was angry at North for poisoning the waters. He was angry at himself for letting North control him. I think Mallard always admired you and he regretted not believing you that day after he broke his record. He never understood why he was so angry."
"I know," Scotsman nodded to the bird. "It was why I was so lenient, why I tried everything to spare him until he tried to kill Olivia. He was lost, I only hoped to help him find his way back."
Gadwall nodded approvingly before jumping onto Scotsman's arm, the man barely catching the large bird.
"I gave him Proteus's ultimatum," Gadwall declared. "He will get no more chances after this. I hope he makes the right choice."
"I hope so too."
A comfortable silence descended upon the two as Scotsman tried to get into the cottage. From the rust and the vines that had grown over the windows, it appeared that North had not been to the cottage in years, leaving the structure to be consumed by the elements.
"It doesn't look like Olivia's been in the building, she would have forced entry if she did," Scotsman murmured. "There probably wouldn't have been a door left if she had."
Gadwall did not answer, instead, his attention was directed to the 'road' that led to the cottage. The Raven had gone completely still and silent, focused on the road as in the distance there was the sound of a truck, tearing up the gravel and grass. The both of them watched as a large white battered old Utility Toyota appeared over the crest of the hill and came barrelling towards them.
Before either of them could speak the utility came to a skidding halt before the cottage, spraying mud and stones all over the overgrown front yard. A tall blonde-haired woman jumped out a furious look on her face as she glared at them.
"Get the hell off this property!" She demanded furiously, her brilliant blue eyes full of anger. "Bloody trespassers!"
"Wait! Wait!" Scotsman defended, raising his hands defensively as the woman marched over to them, rolling her sleeves up ready to 'throw hands' as Tornado would say. His eyes narrowed as he suddenly recognised who the woman was. "Lady Gresley?"
The woman paused and stared at Scotsman, confused before her expression softened and changed as Jaqueline Gresley recognised him.
"Flying Scotsman," a small smile played across her face and she relaxed, Scotsman breathing a sigh of relief. He would rather not take a hook from someone who could very much damage his rather handsome face if he should be so vain.
"What are you doing in my cottage?" Jaqueline asked and Scotsman shrugged.
"I thought that this was Great Northern's cottage," Scotsman pointed out and Jaqueline glared at him.
"North did not live here as long as I did, he lived in the cottage in Hull most of the time," she attested. "I lived here for most of my life."
"Oh," Scotsman was surprised. "I didn't know that."
"You don't know a lot of things, Scotsman."
"So people keep on insisting apparently," Scotsman rolled his eyes annoyed. "I'm not naive, people withhold stuff from me and I'm quite honestly sick of it."
There was a bitterness to his tone and Jaqueline's expression became sympathetic.
"North never told you like he said he would," she muttered regretfully and Scotsman stared at her. She continued. "His biggest mistake was never telling our greatest weapon the truth."
"It was North, he never told anyone anything," Scotsman pointed out with a raised eyebrow.
"That fucking moron," Jaqueline cursed under her breath, shaking her head. "He promised me that he would tell you. Ah, I suppose it's too late now anyway."
"Tell me what?" Scotsman queried. "If I'm going to take over from Sir Nigel then I'll want to know."
"Take ov- about bloody time," Jaqueline smirked. "Sir Nigel won't let go of his position with ease. Quicksilver will certainly have something to say about it."
"So it was Quicksilver," Scotsman nodded to her. "Good to know that my assumptions were correct. But tell me what, Jaqueline?"
"About Olivia, about me, about what North did to try to make up for being such a terrible brother," Jaqueline maintained.
"Tell me," Scotsman breathed desperately, practically begging for any scrap of information. Anything that would make this entire absurd situation make sense. "Please."
"My name is not Jaqueline, or at least, it wasn't the name I was given when I was built," Jaqueline confided.
"Built?" Scotsman murmured as a look of realisation suddenly appeared over his face. "You're a Gold Dust Construct."
Jaqueline nodded, a sad smile playing across her lips.
"Which one?" Scotsman asked, staring at her feeling tears starting to burn the corners of his eyes. He had a suspicion but he had to be sure.
"Merry Hampton-"
Jaqueline didn't even finish her name before there was a squawk as Gadwall suddenly took flight Scotsman lunged forward and enveloped the blonde woman in a tight, almost desperate embrace.
"Little Sister," he murmured into her shoulder as he felt Jaqueline gingerly return the hug, her tears soaking into the lapel of his suit.
"Not exactly the reunion I pictured with PenPen but we can't always live our dreams now can we?" Grey was wittering on as Gold trundled along slowly beside her.
They had decided to leave the A4 Pacific, Bittern, and Pendennis Castle to themselves as they tried to come to terms with revelations about their existence. Such a sad situation, Gold thought to themselves. To not even know the truth of how one related to the world around them.
The United Kingdom was most definitely different from what they had seen so far. Unlike where they had hailed from, where engines were treated as equals and given at least some autonomy, the poor sods here were treated like nothing more than furniture. It was truly disheartening.
The way some of the other steam engines looked at them did not go unnoticed. They looked at them like they were filth. That they were some kind of demon and Gold did not like it one bit. Not on a personal level, but on a compassionate one. The stories of how the diesel called for steam engines to be scrapped, admonishing them for being inferior struck a nerve with them. It made them want to protect Grey from their snide looks and unkind comments even though they knew that Grey was largely unshaken by such things.
"That Tornado girl is such a sweet thing!" Grey exclaimed, her loud voice disturbing Gold from their thoughts. "She's very excitable and very enthusiastic! Such a precious thing! Oh, I do so wish we had new builds down under."
"You never know, there could be," Gold suggested but Grey scoffed at his words.
"Where though? In Perth? Nah mate, dreaming," she laughed and Gold rolled their eyes.
"Perth is still in Australia," Gold pointed out but Grey just chuckled even harder.
"You could've fooled me," she bantered and Gold snorted in mirth. Grey suddenly sprung up higher on her frames as she remembered something. "Oh! Something happened while you were away!"
"Oh?" Gold became concerned now. "You okay mate?"
"Fine, perfectly fine!" Grey proclaimed. "I think Tornado busted her firebox though, the poor girl failed on a grade."
"Failed on a-" Now Gold was truly alarmed. One of Grey's greatest fears, failing a grade and being stuck there. They had been right, they knew something would happen when they separated from Grey. Of course, it had to. "Are you really, okay? What the hell happened-"
"Shut up, would you! I'm fine!" Grey quickly cut him off. "Never better in fact! I saved her Gold! I saved Tornado! I got myself and her over that Grade with no trouble! Well- a little bit of trouble she's a heavy girl- but that's not the point- I did it Gold! I conquered an incline by myself!"
Gold smiled a bright and wide smile, a rare occurrence for the Bulldog who was usually so reserved and stoic. Their smile fell slightly when they realised what this meant for them.
"So, no use for me then huh?" Gold pointed out and Grey's expression soured, frowning at her close friend.
"What the fuck are you talking about, don't be dramatic," Grey scoffed, annoyed. "Just because I conquered it one time doesn't mean I'm instantly cured. I'm not naive, I know it's gonna take more than that to get over a traumatic event."
"Right, sorry," Gold muttered, embarrassed now. She was right of course but the reality that Grey wouldn't always need them still stung.
"Hey, just because my wheels ain't quaking no more doesn't mean you're no longer my best friend," Grey quickly reassured them upon seeing the expression on their face. "And besides, someone still needs to push me up Cowan Bank!"
Gold gave a small chuckle at that.
"Perhaps you'll get up Cowan Bank on your own one day huh?"
Grey rolled her eyes and smirked. "Steady on now mate, trying to get rid of me that quick I see."
"Oh I dunno, Jaxon looks like he could use a good shove every now and again," Gold teased and Grey burst out laughing.
"Of course he does the lazy cunt!" She quipped. "My brother needs to stop being such a lazy prick and pick up the slack."
"I'll be sure to make sure that he does," Gold smirked slightly as they entered one of the larger yards. They fell quiet as they saw two very large engines sitting side by side and chatting away.
Grey's eyes lit up the moment she noticed the livery of one of them.
"Purple, mate?" She called to the engine catching both of their attentions as Gold rolled their eyes with a sigh.
The engine in purple flashed a smile to Gold's companion with a provocative look.
"Bet you couldn't pull this look off, stranger," the engine smirked playfully as the Australian engines approached.
"Bet your tender I could mate," Grey smirked right back to the engine's surprise. "I'm Grey, this is Gold."
"You're the visiting Australian engines, aren't you?" The not Purple engine asked and Gold raised an eyebrow at him.
"Was it the accent?" he deadpanned and the purple engine gave a hoot of delight at his banter as the others just looked at him amused.
"Oh, I like you two!" she chortled. "I am Taw Valley but you can call me Dotti! This here is my silly brother!"
"I'm Braunton," the not Purple engine dipped his frames politely and threw a glare at his sister.
Gold inwardly smirked, reminded of Grey and her brother. This would most certainly be an interesting trip if it hadn't been already which it most certainly had.
"You're a very strange little thing aren't you?"
"Just because the boy's parents aren't here doesn't give you clearance to insult the child, Great Western," a disgruntled reply came from the doorway of the nursery and Truro looked up from the tired child in his arms to see the huge hulking silhouette of a man he had only met a few times on occasion.
"Cock of the North," Truro nodded to him. "A pleasure to see you again."
"Rooster please," the larger man waved dismissively as he entered the room. "It's more appropriate as the British would say."
"And here was me thinking that you were a Doncaster boy," Truro smirked, eliciting a bark of laughter from Rooster.
"Oh I was born there yes, but I do be Scottish raised," Rooster recounted. "Spent all my life there. I lived, breathed and worked mighty northern land. Could never see myself anywhere else in the world."
"Certainly explains why you convinced North to move his operation from Hull to the Lake's District," Truro granted. Rooster chuckled and looked across the nursery and out of the window to the manor grounds.
"Certainly better than this dump," Rooster rolled his eyes. "This used to be a sweet little country cottage on a large farm until North decided to upscale it into a ridiculous manor. But I'm not entirely the reason why he chose that farm in the Lake's."
Truro frowned and looked down at the child in his arms. Surprisingly, the child did not squall nor did he wriggle or protest at being held for such a long time. Instead the child was staring up at him, an inquisitive expression on his face and sparks of gold dust in his eyes.
"I suspected that there was another reason, but I did not speak of it, knowing that there may have been spies and unpleasant people around," Truro addressed grimly. "After Great Northern left the Golden Circle… I understand that less than trustworthy humans began digging their claws in."
"What a fucking mess," Rooster muttered, shaking his head. "The one time we need Great Northern to put his foot down and use his iron fist, he runs off like a coward. Disappointing I tell you. Completely and utterly disappointing. And now we've lost his wealth of knowledge before he could properly pass it on to his successor."
Truro frowned at the larger man's words. Images sprung to his mind of seeing the lifeless and void of Gold Dust Construct of Great Northern. It instilled a terror in him that he had not felt for many, many years. Not since the days of the Beeching Axe.
"Successor? But surely North had no idea that Ms Parsons was going to kidnap him and infect him for her perverse means," the Great Western asked, confused. "How was he to know he was going to die? Constructs do not age to our knowledge."
Rooster gave a heavy exhale and returned his gaze to Truro and little Scott who was now looking at him with curiosity. So unlike a human child.
"Not unless they spread themselves too thin," Rooster pointed out and Truro gasped in shock. "North didn't have grey hair until very recently. He knew the end was coming, we all urged him to pass on his knowledge before it was too late but, well, the man's as stubborn as a mule."
"What did he do?" Truro was almost too afraid to ask.
Rooster shook his head again, an expression of sadness settling across his face.
"Iain ever tell you about how it took so long for Tornado to gain sentience?" He asked and a look of horror and realisation slowly spread over his face.
"He didn't," Truro's voice faltered as he spoke. "No, but that would be me."
"He gave himself 10 years at best," Rooster lamented. "Sir Nigel was there when it happened. The night Tornado finally woke up."
"Great Northern split his soul to give Tornado life," Truro whispered to himself, shock and a sad acceptance in his voice. "It's- he's lucky he didn't drop dead there and then!"
"He almost did, but Sir Nigel managed to stop the old fool," Rooster tutted disapprovingly. "There were many other ways to achieve and give the youn' Peppercorn life. But- ah, I don't know why he did it, maybe, maybe he was so exhausted of trying to right his wrongs and constantly failing. Maybe, maybe the Lady herself made it clear to him what he should do."
There was a long and silent pause as the both of them contemplated the implications. Truro turned his attention back to baby Scott who had begun to reach for Truro's half-moon glasses. Both of them watch Scott for a long while as he struggles before giving up and finally squirming in Truro's arms in frustration.
Truro took his clue and moved to lay the baby in his cot, Rooster watching with him with tired but kind eyes. The baby burbled happily for a second before turning his attention to one of the mobiles hanging over his crib.
"You said that you weren't the only reason for North choosing the Lake's district," Truro stated and Rooster gave him a nod of acknowledgement.
"Oh aye, that's right," he confirmed. "North wasn't just saving engines. He was trying to find out why the Railway Golden Well's were draining. It led him to finish off what old man Gresley started."
Truro shook his head in disbelief at what the old P2 was insinuating.
"That's just a myth, a fairytale," the Great Western chided him and Rooster laughed in response.
"How then, was North able to contact the Lady herself?"
"I assumed that she was a construct in the form of Lady," Truro murmured, his thoughts turning to his old friend. "An engine that was of an old order that was established well before ours."
"I may not like him or his methods, but by the spirits, North got results," Rooster chuckled. "He was trying to save a baby girl infected with Black Smoke and time was running out. The girl was sick and about to die. And so he made a stab in the dark, and his blade hit pure gold."
Truro's breath caught in his chest.
"The Ley Lines," he mouthed and Rooster's expression became serious and unflinching.
"He found the source of Gold Dust and despite being a man of science, he made a wish," Rooster's gaze turned from Truro and looked down at baby Scott, the child quiet and peaceful for the moment. "And it came true."
Truro felt numb. The legends, the stories that were passed from engine to engine on the Great Western railway spoke of rivers of gold deep underground. That if you were faithful, devoted and did your work well, if you so happened to travel to a crossing of these rivers met and made a wish a lady would appear before you and grant you your heart's desire.
He had believed it as a young iron certainly, but then it became a fairytale, a fable that engines were told to keep them in line and so Truro claimed such tales foolishness.
"Impossible…"
"I would've said the same had I not seen the results with my own eyes," Rooster shrugged. "It's possible North knew more but, well, he took those secrets to his grave now didn't he?"
"Did you have any idea who his successor would be? He could have left clues for them, anything for them to follow!" Truro asked and Rooster gave him a strange look in response.
"He did actually," Rooster revealed and a smile appeared on his face. "It was-"
"Mr Rooster! Mr Truro!" Came the sudden loud shriek of Peony, causing Rooster to snap at her to be quiet, baby Scott suddenly erupting into a bout of crying.
"Peony please! You've disturbed the baby-" Truro immediately scolded her but he was ignored. Peony was frantic and panicked by something.
"It's- It's King Edward II!" She cried out breathlessly. "Someone- someone came to attack him!"
"What do you-" Rooster demanded but Peony was having none of it in her distressed state.
"It's Mallard! Mallard is here! He- he appeared out of nowhere! I don't-"
Immediately Rooster and Truro's faces grew serious and they were hurtling themselves out of the door with an order for Peony to watch over the baby.
Peony watched them go, fear in her eyes and terror in her heart.
The very first thing Blue Peter became aware of was the sounds of birds singing and the whistling of a slight breeze blowing through the trees.
Strange, the little railway he was on had no trees nearby its tiny yard, he thought to himself confused.
The second thing the Blue Peter noticed was that he was no longer in pain. That constant burning and cutting that plagued his life since that accident so many years ago was gone. For the first time in nearly 30 years, Blue Peter was free from agonising pain.
He felt… strange without it.
Hollow somehow.
With great difficulty, he managed to pry his eyes open with a deep shudder from within his boiler.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong here.
The squawk of a raven jolted him back into a lucid state. He looked around wildly, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
He was on a track within a dense forest, the track unkempt and barely visible through the blanket of leaves and moss that had grown over it but he could tell that within the standard, a set of narrow gauge tracks ran.
More notably, a little narrow gauge engine sat on the inner track, some distance in front of him, watching him patiently. It felt familiar somehow.
"Who are you?" Blue Peter asked and the little engine rolled forward slowly, a melancholy expression upon its features.
"My name is Proteus," the little engine smiled at him.
The engine's name ran a familiar chord within the Peppercorn's mind. Proteus… he had met this engine before, he was sure of it.
"You have indeed met me before," this Proteus answered his unspoken question and Blue Peter flinched at the absurdity of it.
"How-?"
"When an engine is dead, I appear before them," Proteus explained and Blue Peter felt as if the Black Smoke had once again taken a hold of his flame and snuffed it out.
"Oh."