CHAPTER ONE · MANUSCRIPT PREVIEW

The Train That Stalks the Night

The mermaids had not come to the lagoon for three nights, yet their laughter still resonated between the rocks, as if the bay had liked the sound too much to let it go. Even the fireflies had retreated inland, and the glowing fish that usually crowded the shallow waters now lingered far below, their tiny lanterns reduced to faint, guarded flickers.

Something odd had appeared three nights ago just beyond the Siren’s Lagoon. A long steam train glided above the water, steam billowing from its iron chimney. Its own tracks materialised ahead of it, only to disappear behind the brake van before the steam had even cleared.

A whisper seemed to drift from the train – too faint for the ears to catch, yet speaking directly to the heart. It had drawn Pip, a tiny fire sprite, back to the shore for three nights running. His eyes, two small blue flames, scanned past the rocks for the train, his orange body glowing like a flickering candle against the dark.

At that moment, a plume of steam puffed up from behind the lagoon rocks. Pip darted upwards, nestled into the branch of a dead tree and watched as the train turned towards him.

I see you, little sprite, a voice whispered in Pip’s head. How bright you are in the pale moonlight.

Pip held loosely to the dead tree, his eyes fixed on the billowing steam, each puff larger than the last as the train moved closer to the shore. 

You agree? said the voice. That you might be the brightest sprite of them all?

Pip nodded as a creeping fog curled between the tall rocks and swept over the placid lagoon. The train emerged like a ghost from the fog, laying tracks ahead of itself as it wound across the water and came to rest at the shoreline.

Pip’s eyes widened. The train sat waiting, its brass fittings gleaming in the mist. Steam escaped in gentle hisses from the pressure valves dotting its body, and copper pipes curved across the engine’s surface. Several carriages stretched behind it, dark and silent except for a single cabin illuminated from within by the soft, wavering glow of candlelight, its windows casting warm amber rectangles onto the shore.

I have a treat for you, said the voice in his head as the train’s carriage door slid open. It’s from a faraway land. 

Pip rose from the branch and drifted towards the light spilling from the open carriage. The little fire sprite gasped when he laid eyes on the treat, which was sitting on a table with a single lit candle.

Melted ruby essence cake, Pip realised. His eyes lit up with desire. In Moonlight Bay, such delicacies were little more than rumours – whispered about in dimly lit taverns after dark, when patrons had drunk too much kelp wine, or told as bedtime stories to lull children to sleep.

“Is this… for me?” whispered Pip.

Yes, said the voice. It is yours to enjoy.

At that, Pip flew straight into the carriage, then plopped himself down on the table beside the cake. The door behind him slammed shut. A sudden gust of wind extinguished the candlelight. At once, the train pulled away from the lagoon, accelerating into the swirling fog. 

The sleepy town of Moonlight Bay slumbered on, oblivious to the events unfolding in the Siren’s Lagoon – all except for one outcast fire sprite, who watched from his perch in a tree near the shore.