As the creature leaned its marbled empty gaze toward Pistol's hands, light returned to the train as though the creature never arrived. Even the pouring rain mysteriously faded back into the night in a gust of whipping ominous wind. Only the whistling and clanking of the tracks below could be heard.

“What’s your name Spirit?” Provoked Pistol, grabbing a mug full of mead just beneath his beard.

“Why in the fuck do you want to know this thing’s name!? Eh!? Am I crazy?” A miner protested to the many cheers of others.

“This thing’s gotta die!” Roared many more.

“Shut your pipes Yardrat’s! Company 32! Remain still! Touch it and I guarantee heads will fly right off your drunk shoulders and straight into a nicely decorated box at the front of your door for your fucking wives to see!” Commanded Nick with sobering resolve from deep within the train.

“Myyy name, if I recall correctly, is Surnan.” Assured the spirit whilst reaching towards the mug just served in front of him.

The spirit had a strange yet gentle cadence in conversation. Pistol compared the spirit to the many others who have ridden the Whisky Sunday and while most are indeed different depending on their origin or destination, all spirits have a distinct way of speaking to humans. Whether you’re a distant traveler or a native, should a spirit want to speak with you, you will always somehow understand as-if their tongue is yours. Spirits speak without moving their lips while their voice is often stacked upon many other voices, like an audience speaking in unison; at least that’s what Pistol was accustomed to and this spirit was no different. However, no spirit nor king or Queen has ever boarded a Midnight Train during an active transportation and more so without a ticket. Simply unheard of for any Midnight Train in operation. Pistol began to wonder if perhaps the spirit before him was a creature of chaos. An unknown danger from a land undiscovered. A God?

“Surnan?” Asked Pistol, his lips twisting with doubt.

Surnan nodded its head with exaggerated force and once again began to smile while rocking his stool back and forth. Sarah couldn’t help but compare the spirit to a giant frog in a raincoat with enormous human teeth. Its smile appeared to divide its large head in half. It’s arms stringy and coated with thickening slime and pulsating ethereal bubbles. She observed how some of Surnan’s bubbles simply oozed out of its skin and faded into the walls of the train while others rolled down the arms of the spirit like balls of life-giving honey plopping heavily onto any surface lucky enough to touch it. Spurts of glowing greenery sprouted amongst the path of the Spirit giving the train an eerie blue-green glow from below. The bright yellow raincoat, however, it’s too simple, felt Sarah. Too normal given the Spirit. It sported two pockets on each of its sides with nothing but buttons lining the front of the raincoat.

“What is the nature of your visit Surnan?” Inquired Pistol, leaning over the bar counter.

“Your King. He no longer serves the world. He has been completely corrupted.” Explained Surnan with a blank stare.

“Royalty!? Why I’d never! Corrupt? Pfft.” Taunted a miner with a thick accent before being met with a swift disciplining blow to the head.

“Anyone else think’s themselves a clapping seal? Or can we continue hearing out what may very well kill us all?” Scolded Nick.

“What do you mean corrupt?” Inquired Pistol, ignoring the dying ruckus of miners all around him.

“Corruption is to describe infiltration of life’s purest energy source. You refer to that source… as a soul. All creatures who have ever lived only did so because of the soul inside. Like how your steam engines run your cities’ wild machinations. Without an engine, they are-” Tried explaining Surnan.

“The King’s a husk!?” Blurted Sarah covering her mouth with both her hands, hoping Pistol wouldn’t be upset with her interjection.

“The King’s soul became especially corrupt when he forced himself to rule longer than his soul would allow. He is no longer a man and is likely to have been rid of by your authorities by now.” Continued the spirit, swirling his long dangling fingers into what’s left of the mead at the bottom of his mug.

“He failed his oath.” Muttered Pistol contemplatively, staring into the moonlight piercing the window just across from him.

“What oath Pistol?” Mumbled Sarah under her breath.

“If I may, old friend.” Interjected Nick before seating himself between Surnan and Sarah.

Pistol took turns glancing at Nick walking towards the bar again and then at Surnan before nodding his head in approval. To Pistol, Nick appeared uncharacteristically calm. If he was the Nick he’d known in the past then the Spirit would’ve already had a hammer’s head gunning straight through its skull with enough force to breach into the tracks skipping below. Even Nick’s mining company appeared pale-faced and eager for Nick to at least threaten the Spirit just as he would any dangerous creature in the mines. Perhaps he may still do so, thought Pistol, somewhat ready for spontaneous confrontation.

“Surnan. May I slice away a piece of time with Sarah?” Asked Nick abruptly after turning away from Sarah.

The spirit nodded its head in agreement in the same exaggerated fashion from before, even splashing many of its bubbles and slime all over the bartop and even on Nick himself.

“I probably can’t kill you but I can at least give it a go. Quite frankly, I’ve been trying to rot on a wooden stool anyway. Still, may I continue and speak to the girl?” Laughed Nick in a burst of bellowing laughter, loosening many frowns lining the booths of the train car.

Surnan merely smiled towards Nick and began to make way for his wide presence, even scooting his barstool over and gesturing for Pistol to serve him another drink. Pistol obliged with a guarded expression. “What’s your goal?”, thought Pistol with every movement, never breaking eye contact with Surnan yet ready to leap over the bar at any moment.

“Every shitty King and every shitty Queen takes an oath to the planet, Girl. Our very own beautiful Greenmother.” Explained Nick, hunched over towards Sarah.

“I know that I-.” Blurted Sarah yet again.

“Hear me out, Girl! Breach that oath -powerful as you may be-and you spell ruin for all the land. No one except this King has been moronic enough to do it in the past! The oath is a connection to life with consequences and benefits beyond our understanding. All I know is you could be as shitty and awful as you want and still be King or Queen of this land so long as you swallow some brilliant blue light during some fuck-all festival the working man can’t be bothered to be invited too.” Ranted Nick whilst shuffling his hands through the front pocket of his overalls.

“Wow, that was very informative. So much detail.” Mocked Sarah, scratching her head.

“Girl! Do your eyes not see the giant frog currently behind me? That mead or what-not won’t entertain him for too much longer. My boy’s are itching to leave this train the second the doors fling open. Girl, take a whiff! I can smell the sweat of their feet swimming in their boots. Fear.” Continued Ranting Nick in a strange grumble.

Before Nick finished speaking, he carefully handed Sarah some sort of unfamiliar smooth blue crystal with a dimming red shine in it and placed it gently on her lap. It was small enough to fit in most pockets but not small enough to forget its angular presence as felt by Sarah almost immediately after she put it into her front pocket.

“What is this?” Mouthed Sarah.

“Anyway, that’s how they live very very long. Too long in fact. Don’t break an oath to the land. You live. Break it and… uh a frog show’s up on Pistol’s train apparently.” Boasted Nick.

Pistol took note of Nick’s interruption -despite not knowing exactly what he was doing- and immediately set up a distraction for Surnan. Perhaps the conversation would’ve been enough however Pistol performed what Sarah believed to be the unthinkable and served Surnan a glass of liquor from his personal collection just behind him hoping to buy time and ofcourse conjure some sort of respect with a fancy glass and a personal touch.

“The King is corrupt. Okay, I understand that. May I ask, why you’d trespass on my Midnight Train?” Inquired Pistol, catching glances towards the rest of the train.

“My business here was conjured from what you may understand as a Royal Favor. For the spirits, this is known as a limited pact with no guarantees. As you may know, a compatible human may present a condition to a spirit and a spirit may accept such a condition however at an increasing cost reflective of the task. Such a pact is often paid for with a life and can only be achieved once a special connection is made between the spirit and in this particular case… the human. Royalty is not exclusive to this particular action, however, royalty historically proved most desperate and in possession of valuable resources. This is the nature of my appearance on this train.” Explained Surnan.

“Your pact is with who?” Quickly questioned Pistol.

“A pact was made with me. Yes. Performed by four royal offspring to which I carry two within me.” Replied Surnan.

“An-” Tried asking Pistol.

“Every world is a sphere interwoven among an infinite amount of other spheres. Your sphere has already been breached by an unsustainable amount of other spheres. Consequences have already been manifesting. The pact was made in an effort to stop this. A new ruler must be chosen.” Emphasized Surnan.

“Like the increase in deadly creatures amongst the Conkle mines.” Added Pistol, serving Surnan more drink.

“One of many consequences manifesting.” Confirmed Surnan, sipping on his glass.

“Have you noticed your stamina waning more than usual when breaching worlds? Many of your usual path’s becoming far more difficult to travel through.” Continued Surnan.

“And the other two who made this pact? Where are they?” Immediately inquired Pistol.

“Dead. They have chosen to give their lives for their younger siblings. To fulfill the pact. And I chose to accept their condition.” Continued explaining Surnan without so much as a grimace.

“What did they want from me?” Prodded Pistol, he too leaned in towards Surnan.

“To survive. Your train is the key to what they believe is this world’s survival. In their eyes, they trust your stories. They trust that you will be one to take them to the ones who may restore their father. You are who they selected to travel to the four corners of your world and take back shards of their father’s soul in the hopes of bringing it whole once more. Saving him from a hollowed existence and perhaps life as well. ” Replied Surnan, leaning in towards Pistol