Alana found a group of influencers frozen at their table, their masks—The Banshee, The Scarecrow, and The Jester—carefully stitched directly into their skin. The killer wasn’t just a slasher anymore; he was an artist of the macabre, using the confined carriages as a moving gallery.
As the train pulled out of the station into a blinding mountain blizzard, the atmosphere was thick with forced cheer and expensive champagne. But in the shadows of the baggage car, a crate marked Industrial Medical Supplies sat empty.
With the brakes cut and the doors deadlocked, Alana had to decide: save the brother who brought her here, or derail the entire train into the icy abyss to ensure the "Artist" never reached the next station.
Three years after the "New Year’s Eve Massacre" on the rails, the infamous excursion train—rebranded as the —was back. The owners called it "healing through nostalgia." The survivors called it a death sentence.
The steam whistle didn’t scream; it rattled, like air escaping a punctured lung.