Sodor: Echo

Fires of the Quarry

Date: July 24, 1979

I'm still not sleeping well. Every time I close my eyes, I hear the whispers. The fog has lifted in the lowlands, but the strange feeling around the island hasn't. The engines are acting differently—more tense, more on edge. Sir Topham Hatt has been trying to keep things normal, but there's no hiding it. Even Thomas has been quieter than usual, like the entire island is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Today, I was assigned to help at the Blue Mountain Quarry with Sir Handel, Duncan, and Rusty. The Skarloey Railway engines had been stretched thin with all the work and strange events in the mountains, and Sir Topham Hatt wanted an extra set of hands to make sure everything was running smoothly. At first, I thought it would be a normal day—quarries are loud, dirty, and exhausting, but they've never been particularly dangerous. But then again, nothing on Sodor has been normal lately.

The moment I arrived at the quarry, I knew something was off.

The usually bustling work site was quiet, too quiet. The miners and workmen were moving cautiously, whispering to one another. There was an odd smell in the air—like sulfur, mixed with the scent of burning rock—and an unusual heat radiating from the ground. I stepped off Thomas's footplate and met Rusty's driver near one of the sidings.

"Bob," he greeted me with a grim nod. "You might want to watch your step here. There's been... activity."

"What kind of activity?" I asked, confused.

He sighed, wiping sweat from his brow despite the early morning chill. "Down in the lower levels of the quarry. Fires. Not ones we can explain."

Fires. I felt a chill run down my spine. "Spontaneous fires?"

"That's one way to put it," he replied, his voice uneasy. "The ground seems to be burning from underneath. Like the rock is angry."

Before I could ask more, a loud whistle echoed through the quarry. Sir Handel rolled up, his normally stern face set in a worried frown.

"More fires near the eastern edge," Sir Handel reported, his voice low. "They keep starting out of nowhere."

Duncan trailed behind him, clearly agitated. "We shouldn't be here," he grumbled. "This place is cursed. I've been saying it for weeks."

"Duncan, stop being dramatic," Rusty interjected, though even his usually calm demeanor seemed strained.

But Duncan wasn't having any of it. "I'm telling you, this place isn't right. The ground's been shaking, fires are bursting out of the rock, and now we've found those blasted markings."

"Markings?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rusty sighed. "Runes. Strange ones, carved into the quarry walls. We don't know how long they've been there, but it's clear they're ancient. Far older than the quarry itself."

"Where?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"Lower levels," Rusty replied. "But you'll see for yourself soon enough. We've all had to work down there today."

The descent into the lower levels of the Blue Mountain Quarry was unsettling. Duncan and Sir Handel led the way, their grumbling echoing off the narrow rock walls, while Rusty and I followed behind. The air grew hotter the deeper we went, and soon enough, the odd smell of sulfur became overwhelming. The deeper tunnels were darker than usual, too, with shadows seeming to stretch longer and deeper than they should.

The first sign of trouble appeared when we came across one of the fires. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen.

A section of rock had split open, as though the ground itself had cracked. From within the fissure, bright, glowing embers flared, sending tendrils of smoke into the air. There was no source of ignition, no fuel for the fire—it was just... there. Burning. Slowly, but steadily.