The town of Amberfield was a place forgotten by time, where whispers of the past lingered in the cobblestone streets and the air carried the faint scent of old memories. At the heart of this quiet town was the train station, a grand relic of an era when steam and iron ruled the land. The station's clock, frozen at a quarter past nine, was a silent witness to the stories of countless travelers.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that danced with the dim light of the lanterns, the last train of the night prepared for its final journey. It was an old steam locomotive, its once-majestic black exterior now dull and rusted, but still exuding a sense of endurance and history. The conductor, a stoic man named Samuel, had worked this line for over forty years, his face etched with the lines of time and the wisdom of the rails.

On this particular night, a strange stillness hung in the air. Samuel noticed it as he made his rounds, checking the tickets of the few passengers who had boarded. Among them was a young woman named Eliza, her eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of apprehension. She was new to Amberfield, having recently moved from the bustling city to escape the noise and find some peace.

Eliza found a seat by the window, gazing out at the town she was...