The carriage door slammed shut behind them, and silence fell.
For the first time, there were no mirrors, no screaming walls, no grasping shadows. Just a long, black hallway lit by dim lanterns swaying from the ceiling. Each one burned with a strange, crimson flame. The air was heavy, metallic, thick with the smell of iron and smoke.
At the far end stood a door unlike any they had seen before—towering, carved from black iron, engraved with symbols that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. And in front of it, waiting patiently, stood him.
The Conductor.
He was tall, impossibly so, his shadow stretching farther than the lantern light could reach. His face was hidden behind a mask shaped like a bird's skull, the hollow sockets glowing with embers. His uniform was immaculate, stitched in black and crimson, buttons gleaming like drops of blood. In one gloved hand, he carried a long staff, its end tipped with a lantern burning brighter than Evelyn's own.
"You've made it this far," his voice was smooth, low, echoing as if it came from every corner of the carriage. "Most passengers don't."
Evelyn's chest tightened. She didn't trust herself to speak.
The Conductor tilted his head, studying them like curious insects. "You've fought. You've resisted. Admirable… but useless." He tapped the staff on the ground. The lantern flared, and the walls of the carriage shuddered. From them, chains burst forth, writhing like snakes, each tipped with hooks.
The chains lashed out, wrapping around wrists, ankles, and throats. Alex tried to fight, but one hook drove deep into his shoulder, pinning him to the floor. Sophie screamed as another chain coiled around her waist, dragging her toward the Conductor.
Evelyn's lantern flickered violently, as if afraid.
The Conductor's voice lowered, almost intimate: "Every soul who boards this train pays a fare. You thought you could ride without cost?" He leaned closer, the skull mask inches from Evelyn's face. "Now, you'll pay in flesh… and in truth."
The chains tightened, pulling them all toward the center of the carriage. And then Evelyn realized what lay beneath the floor. The wood panels peeled away, revealing an endless pit of darkness swirling with faces—their reflections, their shadows, every broken piece of themselves they'd left behind in the earlier carriages. They screamed, reaching upward, begging to drag them down.
Sophie sobbed, thrashing against her bindings. "Please! I'll do anything! Just let us go!"
The Conductor chuckled softly, the sound chilling. "Oh, my dear… you're already mine."
He raised his staff. The lantern at its tip flared, and suddenly Evelyn saw it—not just the train, but the truth. The Midnight Train wasn't taking them somewhere. It was feeding on them. Every carriage stripped them down, piece by piece—flesh, desire, fear, memory. Until nothing was left but a hollow husk to join the souls screaming below.
Evelyn's throat burned. The whispers from the earlier carriages grew louder, clawing at her sanity. But through the terror, one thought screamed in her mind—if she lost here, if she gave in now, she would never leave this train alive.
She forced her shaking hand to raise the lantern. Its glow sputtered weakly.
The Conductor tilted his head again, almost curious. "You still dare to resist?" His voice darkened, crueler now. "Very well. Let's see how brightly your soul can burn… before I extinguish it."
The chains rattled. The crimson lantern flared. And the chamber itself seemed to shudder, as if the train was preparing to devour them whole.