The Night Train to Mortenholt

You come to in compartment five, and outside a moonlit ravine slides past on silver rails. No one remembers boarding. The lamps flicker, the carriage smells of cold iron and old smoke, and the final stop appears on no ticket. A pale fellow passenger whispers: the train does not stop, and there are too few souls aboard for the journey ahead.

The Night Train runs between the world of the living and that of the dead, and it must deliver its quota of souls before it reaches Mortenholt. The Conductor has not vanished, he has become the train itself, and he is counting the passengers. If there are too few, he fills the carriages with whoever he can seize along the way, you included.

You search carriage after carriage, question fellow travelers, some of them long dead, and work out who is living and who is bait. Behind every door after midnight, something knocks, and you must figure out how to get off a moving train that never stops, without making the wrong promise to whatever is knocking.

In the locomotive you confront the Conductor of the Night Train, fused with steam and iron, who punches tickets with a smile and refuses to brake until his carriages are full. Force the train to a halt and you step free onto a platform between the worlds; fail, and your ticket is stamped for Mortenholt, and no one returns from there.