Elias Monroe, a weary traveler burdened with a battered suitcase, steps onto the platform. His breath forms pale clouds in the frigid air as he scans the desolate scene, searching for any sign of life.
"Is anyone here?" His voice is swallowed by the darkness.
Inside, flickering yellow bulbs cast a sickly glow over red velvet seats and tarnished brass fixtures. The train feels oppressively silent, save for the distant sound of rain drumming against the roof. Elias finds himself alone, except for a hunched conductor at the end of the aisle.
Conductor, gaunt and pale, glances up with hollow eyes.
"Maut Station, last stop. No turning back now,"
Elias clutches his suitcase, feeling dread creep along his spine. A faint whisper threads through the carriage, impossible to place. The conductor vanishes down the corridor, leaving Elias with the sense that something unseen is watching.
"This train… it feels wrong," Elias murmurs.
Lina, apparition, appears silently, her hands clutching a faded photograph.
"You shouldn't be here. Maut Station takes what isn't ready,"
Elias recoils, heart pounding, as the temperature drops and the photograph slips from her fingers onto his lap.
As realization dawns, Elias stumbles toward the conductor, desperate for answers. The train’s windows rattle, black shapes pressing against the glass.
"You boarded with regrets, and now the station collects its fare,"
Elias’s frantic pleas are drowned out by the rising wail of the wind and the mournful tolling of a distant bell.
Elias resists, clutching the photograph, but invisible hands tug him forward. Lina stands at the threshold, her expression sorrowful.
"This is where all journeys end,"
As Elias is pulled into the mist, the train departs, its whistle fading into the night—leaving only the echo of regrets and the chilling certainty that no one ever returns from Maut Station.
