Eternal hunger disguised as grace. The train is purgatory for the beautiful, where glamour becomes a cage and immortality is a curse that burns bright but ends in ash. Underground, a single subway car cuts through the dark, its passengers dressed like saints of sin, vampires in pearls and vintage fur, crucifixes glinting under the flicker of passing light. No one remembers when the train started moving or where it’s headed. Inside, hunger has turned ritual. Every movement is a performance, every breath a prayer. They fight for dominance, beauty, and survival, waltzing, clawing, combusting in crimson light. Fire spreads through the car like gossip in a cathedral. When the inferno peaks, a handful of them break through shattered windows, landing in a prairie beneath a sky too empty to forgive. There stands a lone church, already burning, a sanctuary turned pyre. The final survivors crawl toward its glow as dawn rises like judgment. One by one, they dissolve. Pearls melt, blood crystallizes into dust, until nothing remains but smoke and silk carried by the wind.