After a short while, more than a dozen creatures crawled out of a honeycomb-like structure clinging to the cave wall. Their bodies were round and pitch-black, supported by four spider-like legs tipped with sharp claws. Moving in a neat line, they clambered up onto the train.

  “What are those?” Aaron asked.

  “They’re coalborns, natural-born miners,” Acher replied. “They can taste soil and stone to tell how much ore a mine holds and how it should be worked without ruining it. Even their poop can slowly generate new ore over time, which is why mine owners are so eager to invite coalborns to work for them.”

  Invite, not buy; that wording mattered, thanks to the coalborns’ rather peculiar nature. Whenever they arrived at a new mine, they would first smell and taste the rock. Only if the place felt right would they settle down. If they were forced to stay in a mine they disliked, they would constantly look for ways to escape, or even spiral into a violent frenzy.

  The train continued to roll onward, cutting through the land of eternal ice.

  …

  On a sloping path, Jack-O hopped along at the front, while Squashy and Pompo dashed right behind him, eager not to be left out.

  “Slow down a little. Watch your step. Don’t fall,” Luther called out.

  The group was walking through a small village built along the mountainside. The houses stood out with their brightly painted wooden walls and turf roofs covered in thick green grass. From where they stood, they could see a massive glacier stretching to the horizon, flowing across the wide tundra below, and disappearing among distant snowcapped peaks that seemed to go on forever.

  This was Snowfur Village, a supernatural community in Greenland. They had to stop here to transfer to another train, which meant a two-hour wait.

  “Are you cold? Do you need one more coat?” Aaron asked, glancing at Luther with concern.

  Luther, bundled in three thick shirts, two layers of trousers, sturdy snow boots, a woolen cap, and a scarf wrapped tight, not to mention the three different warming spells Aaron had already cast on him:

  “...”

  “It’s warm enough,” he smiled and said.

  It was also lunchtime, so they were looking for a place to eat.

  “This village feels much smaller compared to Mariana Market, doesn’t it?” Aaron remarked, studying the view. “And there are far fewer humans here. Strange, but kind of fascinating.”

  Most of the village's inhabitants were supernatural creatures. Only a small portion of them were Inuit people, while the rest were creatures of frostland: massive polar bears, wolf beastkin, long-eared hares, snowmen who lumbered slowly, frostfolk with white hair and pale skin, snow spirits that drifted like mist…

  Both Luther and Aaron let their eyes wander, doing their best to observe the unusual figures that looked like they had stepped straight out of a fairytale, while at the same time trying not to stare.

  “Woaaa,” they both exclaimed in awe when an Inuit woman passed by riding a pure-white reindeer whose antlers shimmered as though sculpted out of ice.

  After wandering around for a bit, they stepped into a restaurant called fOXtail.

  It was a small wooden eatery painted a shade of ocean blue. Nestled against the mountain wall, it was surrounded by vivid blossoms that somehow thrived even in this cold climate.

  The restaurant's staff all shared one striking trait: every single one of them was a big snow fox, standing upright at the height of a human. They wore tidy forest-green uniforms with neat black aprons tied at the waist, and sturdy boots on their feet.

  One fox girl came forward to greet them.

  “Hello, darlings. Dine in or take out?” she asked with a warm voice.

  “Hi, we’ll dine in,” Aaron answered.

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  “Wonderful. Please follow me.”

  She led them to a table on the veranda, where warmth radiated from a glowing red lava-stone encased in a metal brazier that floated above their heads.

  “What should we try?” Aaron scanned the menu. “How about the braised ox tail with wriggle roots? The online reviews say it’s the specialty here.”

  “Sounds good,” Luther agreed with a nod.

  “Yesss!” Jack-O cheered.

  He was never picky about food.

  “Can I have the cloudberry smoothie, pleaseee,” Squashy asked.

  “Sure. What do you guys want to drink?” Aaron replied with a smile.

  “Coke pleaseeee!”

  When the food was served, both Aaron's and Luther’s jaws dropped. They had ordered six portions, expecting it to be enough for the group. But looking at each giant ox tail each piece was nearly five inches thick and as big as a grown man’s thigh, Luther knew at once they would not be finishing it all, and leftovers were inevitable.

  “This is so good, but what on earth is this white thing? The texture is weird. It wriggles in my mouth while I chew,” Aaron said.

  The wriggle roots were pale white tubers, oval in shape and about the size of a thumb. They had earned their name because, even after being cooked and set steaming on the plate, they still twisted and squirmed as if they were plump living larvae rather than cooked vegetables.

  “Yummy!” Jack-O declared without hesitation.

  “Let me have them if you don’t want them,” Pompo said. He loved their nutty, creamy taste.

  Aaron scooped the rest of the wriggle roots from his plate into Pompo’s and asked:

  “I wonder what kind of ox has a tail this big?”

  “It must be from the midwinter Ox,” Acher explained between pecks at his own portion. “They are creatures born of ice lands, living only upon the eternal snow mountains. Every five years, they shed the old tail and grow a new one. That fallen tail becomes a rare delicacy. In ancient times, it was hard to find, but ever since Boreas shaped up the divine kingdom Gelidara in the Borealis constellation, these oxen have been bred widely.”

  By the time they finished their lunch, the departure time was approaching. Snowfur Village had many fascinating shops, but in the end, they only managed to purchase a few enchanted snow globes as souvenirs.

  Quite a few magical residents also boarded the train alongside them, lugging all sorts of heavy luggage as they went.

  “Oh, looks like many people here are taking the Orion Express too,” Aaron remarked. “It’s probably because of how they look, so they can’t board an airplane like normal humans. Just look at that emperor penguin over there, the poor guy would probably have to be in the pet cargo if he wants to take a plane, if it’s even legal.”

  After that, the train continued pressing forward, cutting straight across Greenland before gliding into the waters of the North Atlantic.

  Wherever the train passed, the restless waves settled and quieted down, leaving the ocean’s surface smooth and still, like a gigantic mirror reflecting the sky with its drifting clouds.

  “This looks just like Salar de Uyuni,” Aaron commented. “Luther, can you make the train transparent again, like when we flew to Boston?”

  “Veil of Lies.”

  The illusion wrapped around them, and they saw that they were no longer in a train but sitting upon the shell of an enormous turtle riding through the sea.

  Through roaring waves we ride,

  Against the endless wind we go,

  Sails stretched wide in sky and tide,

  Where sun meets drifting cloud aglow,

  Upon this wandering road we stray,

  Our spirits free, we soar away.

  Aaron wasted no time striking poses for photos. In one shot, he stood with his hands behind his back, gazing with deep thought toward the glowing sun. In another, he and Luther sat side by side, legs dangling as they playfully kicked the water’s surface. There were also portraits of each pumpkin, and one of Acher perched on Jack-O’s head.

  There was also a group shot of Luther lifting Jack-O and Pompo in his arms, Acher resting on his shoulder, and Aaron holding Squashy with both arms.

  Aaron even went so far as to summon his noon armor. Clad in gleaming plates, he drew his blazing fire sword and struck a dramatic pose, fierce and powerful.

  Once the photos were taken, they all huddled together, laughing as they scrolled through the images.

  “These came out amazing. Just the background alone looks better than any high-end editing effect,” Aaron said, his eyes sparkling. “And the EPhone’s camera is insane, it’s just so sharp, even has a 3D mode. We should test that out. I can’t believe I totally forgot to take photos when we flew back from Mariana Market.”

  “Next time. Still have many more chances,” Luther replied.

  “You’re right. We’ll definitely have lots more chances!” Aaron’s grin stretched wide, full of light.

  After a little more than two hours of travel, land appeared on the horizon.

  “We’ve reached Iceland,” Aaron announced. “Funny, isn’t it? Iceland’s quite green, while Greenland is mostly just ice and snow. They should have swapped names.”

  Crossing over the land of fire and ice, the Orion pressed on, slipping across the sea once more.

  By around three in the afternoon, the train reached the mainland. They had entered the United Kingdom, though there was still one final leg of the journey left before they would arrive at Sicily.

  As the train rolled through Scotland, it made a stop at a station built into the heart of a mountain castle. The ancient structure, its stone walls blanketed with moss, rose proudly, its towers piercing the sky.

  From one of the main halls, dozens of kids spilled out, bustling with energy. They came in all sorts: humans, beastkin, natureborn, even magical creatures wearing enchanted forms. Every one of them wore a dark-blue uniform trimmed in white.

  Some had flowing capes draped over their shoulders, while others bore silver armor pieces strapped over them. The crowd of students was led by eight teachers.

  “Oh wow, this is a magic school!” Aaron said, eyes widening in delight.