Chapter 1: The Final Departure

Rain hammered the glass roof of Gare de Lyon station in Paris, turning the city lights outside into blurred streaks of gold and white. Travelers hurried across the crowded terminal while announcements echoed through the vast building. Suitcases rolled across polished floors. Children complained. Business travelers checked their watches. It looked like any ordinary evening.

For Claire Moreau, however, nothing about this night felt ordinary.

The thirty-two-year-old investigative journalist pushed through the crowd with a leather satchel hanging from her shoulder. She was late, exhausted, and carrying information that could destroy powerful people.

A departure board flashed above the station.

GENEVA – 22:40 – FINAL BOARDING.

Claire glanced at her watch and increased her pace.

For the past six months she had been investigating a series of disappearances across Europe. The victims came from different countries, different professions, and different social backgrounds. On paper, there was no connection between them.

Yet Claire had discovered one detail the authorities seemed determined to ignore.

Every missing person had traveled by train shortly before disappearing.

French police dismissed the pattern as coincidence. Swiss investigators found no evidence of criminal activity. German authorities closed several cases entirely.

Claire trusted none of those conclusions.

Three nights earlier, an anonymous email had arrived in her encrypted inbox.

The message contained no greeting and no signature.

It contained only one sentence.

If you want the truth, take the last train to Geneva.

Attached to the message was a file containing names, travel records, and references to something called Project Nightglass.

Claire had never heard of Project Nightglass before.

The more she investigated, the stranger things became.

Several names listed in the document belonged to people officially declared missing.

Others belonged to people who no longer seemed to exist at all.

Government databases showed no records.

Employment histories vanished.

Digital footprints disappeared.

It was as though someone had erased them from reality.

The possibility frightened her.

Which was exactly why she could not ignore it.

She finally reached Platform 18.

The sleek silver train waited beneath the station lights.

Passengers boarded calmly while conductors checked tickets.

Claire hurried toward the nearest door.

A conductor looked at her ticket and nodded.

Carriage Seven. Seat Twenty-Seven A.

Thank you.

The door closed moments after she stepped aboard.

A soft vibration traveled through the floor.

The train began moving.

Paris slowly drifted away into the darkness.

Claire walked through the carriage, observing the passengers around her.

Observation was second nature to journalists.

A young couple whispered together near the front.

An older businessman read a financial newspaper.

A mother adjusted a blanket over her sleeping daughter.

Two students shared headphones while watching a movie.

Several tourists examined maps.

Nothing seemed unusual.

Yet Claire couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

She located Seat 27A beside a large window.

After placing her satchel beneath the seat, she settled in and looked outside.

The city lights faded behind them.

Dark countryside replaced them.

Rain continued falling beyond the glass.

Claire opened her laptop.

The encrypted files appeared immediately.

She entered a password and reviewed the information once more.

Project Nightglass.

The name appeared repeatedly.

No explanation.

No organization.

Only references buried inside transportation records and security reports.

One file contained photographs of several missing individuals.

Another contained train schedules from multiple European countries.

A third file was protected by an additional layer of encryption.

Claire spent nearly twenty minutes trying to access it.

Nothing worked.

Frustrated, she leaned back in her seat.

Across the aisle sat a woman wearing a bright red scarf.

The woman seemed nervous.

Her eyes repeatedly scanned the carriage.

Every few minutes she checked her phone.

At one point she looked directly at Claire.

Their eyes met briefly.

Then the woman immediately looked away.

Claire frowned.

Something about her behavior felt wrong.

The train continued south-east through the darkness.

An hour passed.

Passengers gradually became quieter.

Some fell asleep.

Others read books beneath the warm carriage lights.

Claire ordered coffee from the dining service and returned to her investigation.

At exactly 23:18, something strange happened.

Her laptop screen flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then returned to normal.

Claire checked the battery.

Everything appeared fine.

She dismissed it and continued working.

Several minutes later she stood and walked toward the rear of the carriage.

She needed fresh air and a clear head.

When she returned, she noticed the woman in the red scarf was gone.

Not unusual.

Passengers moved between carriages constantly.

Still, something bothered her.

The woman's handbag remained beneath her seat.

A half-finished drink rested on the tray table.

If she planned to return, she had been gone a surprisingly long time.

Claire sat down again.

A cold sensation settled in her stomach.

Instinct.

The same instinct that had saved her during dangerous investigations before.

She opened her laptop once more.

A new file had appeared on the desktop.

Claire froze.

She was certain it had not been there earlier.

The file name was simple.

DO_NOT_SLEEP

Her pulse accelerated.

Slowly, she opened it.

Inside was a single sentence.

If you wake up alone, trust the man in Seat 19.

Claire stared at the screen.

Seat 19.

She looked down the carriage.

The seat appeared empty.

No man.

No passenger.

Nothing.

A sudden chill moved through the train.

The lights flickered briefly.

Several passengers looked up.

Then everything returned to normal.

Claire copied every file onto a hidden USB drive she kept inside her satchel.

Whatever was happening, she wasn't taking chances.

Minutes became hours.

The rhythmic movement of the train made her eyelids heavy.

She fought exhaustion.

She stood twice and walked the carriage.

She bought another coffee.

She checked her phone repeatedly.

No signal.

Eventually fatigue won.

Claire rested her head against the window.

Just five minutes, she told herself.

Five minutes and then she'd continue working.

The sound of rain against the glass became distant.

The movement of the train became soothing.

Slowly, sleep pulled her under.

She didn't know how long she slept.

Minutes.

Hours.

It was impossible to tell.

What woke her was silence.

Complete silence.

Claire opened her eyes immediately.

Something felt wrong.

Very wrong.

She sat upright and looked around.

The carriage was empty.

Every seat.

Every row.

Every passenger.

Gone.

The young couple had vanished.

The businessman had vanished.

The mother and child had vanished.

The students had vanished.

Even the woman in the red scarf was gone.

Only Claire remained.

The train continued racing through the darkness as though nothing had happened.

Her heartbeat thundered in her chest.

She stood abruptly.

Hello?

No answer.

She grabbed her satchel and moved into the aisle.

The silence felt unnatural.

Terrifying.

Then a door opened at the far end of the carriage.

A tall man stepped inside.

Dark coat.

Calm expression.

Watchful eyes.

For several seconds neither spoke.

The stranger studied her carefully.

Then he sighed.

You weren't supposed to wake up yet.

Claire tightened her grip on the satchel.

Who are you?

The man stepped forward.

My name is Adrian Keller.

Claire's eyes widened.

The warning file flashed through her mind.

Trust the man in Seat 19.

Adrian looked around the empty carriage.

Then back at her.

Listen carefully, Claire. We have less than six hours before this train reaches Geneva.

His expression darkened.

And if we don't find the missing passengers before then, none of them are coming back.