The many cars of Sible's Train were small dimensions joined by elusive doors. Searching every pocket would have taken lifetimes. Instead, Tristan and I endeavored to find the conductor. He was in charge of maintaining the train and keeping it in constant motion. Furthermore, we knew he'd likely be in one of the main cars rather than the fringe spaces that existed as satellites to the former. 

Black Moon, the first car of the main line, was thought to be a representation of the conductor's beginning.  One could only assume the man had been birthed in exile judging by the dimension of darkness that formed the quiet place. Stardust, which glowed vibrant green and blue neon colors, made up the ground of a desolate moon. Empty was the void aside from odd creatures that flew blind and left tails of faint smoky light behind them. There was no sign of a door or other passengers. 

"Stay close to me. We aren't on Earth anymore," Tristan spoke as we crossed the neon-dusted moon. 

"I know," I said. 

The conductor may not have been willing to acknowledge us. Without my halo or Tristan's horns, we might have been human in his eyes. 

"My marble is seven days old. Should be strong enough to get us off the train but nothing else," Tristan informed. We couldn't use magic to find the conductor. We couldn't call for him as most passengers with power could. My legs were sure to be stronger after the walk ahead of us, but already I was tired.

The walk seemed utterly endless. 

"Do you see the door?" I asked. 

"You begged me to be here, don't be so impatient," Trisll laughed. 

"It must be somewhere."

We had circled the moon a dozen times over, hoping some aspect of the unmarked territory might change. However, nothing had revealed itself to us. So was the way of the train. Each car was a mysterious construct. Finding the way out was a puzzle. Had we the ability to use magic, discovering the portal would have been simple as waving a hand. With Tristan's lack of power, we had to figure out our way as Hamilton might. 

"There," I spoke and stopped Tristan from moving further. 

We had been kicking up dust with our every step, however unintentionally, so the clouds of color were low. Of course, it took time to realize something was hidden in the clouds.

As color filled the air, door frames were visible in the dust but vanished when clouds settled back at feet.

It took no more than a purposeful kick to draw up a cloud large enough to find several gateways.  We had to go through quickly before they disappeared again, but which door would keep us on the train's main line? 

It would always be the gateway made of ivory and bone. 

White River was another essential car of Sible's train. In it, the sky was milk white with fog acting as a wall hiding the furthest horizon. Tall grass, weeds, and ageless trees traced the bank of a winding river full of water so cold it might have frosted had ripples ceased. Dragonflies flew, giving the silent place just enough sound to avoid thoughts of death. In any case, it was a tranquil dimension. Though sequestered like Black Moon, a noticeable weight was absent from the river. Lonely, but not in sadness.

Across the bank were numerous boats ferried by other passengers. Doors appeared, rising from the water to meet the many boats traveling through the midst of the scene. 

It appeared we wouldn't need to search for an exit. It would come to us in its own time. Regardless, Tristan and I moved along the river. We hadn't any boat nor magic to summon one, so our bodies waded through the ghoulishly cold water. 

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"I'm fine," Tristan spoke with a shiver in his spine. 

We watched as boats passed us by, passengers looking unto us with pity if not disinterest. 

"But the water, Demons can't swim," I said.

"The water ain't so deep," my demon remarked. 

We could survive the harshness of wet discomfort, but there was discomfort for sure. Thankfully, our wait was shorter than anticipated. 

The ivory door arose before us, grand and inviting, with warmth radiating from its shape. Tristan, pretending to be unhindered, moved to let my hand be the one to open the portal first. 

Gray Stones, Sible's third car, was an endless walkway of intricately patterned stones. Under each smooth rock was nothingness, an infinite fall. The walkway was solid underfoot. However, every other step Tristan and I took was enough to disrupt one or two stones. They fell away without warning. Those rocks we knocked loose were smaller stones that alone seemed insignificant. In either case, if the minor bits could be moved, who could say whether the larger ones were sturdy as they appeared?

Along the path were countless doors, each marked by metaphoric symbols noting what likely lay behind them. Other passengers came and went to and from too quickly to note any particular face, but I was confident we hadn't seen the conductor. Like them, we made our departure soon. The ivory door was steps from where we had entered the pocket dimension.

The Red Market, an obvious representation of the conductor finding his roots in the Underlands, was the most crowded car of Sible's train. It was a claustrophobic maze of metallic corridors and stalls. Each booth offered pleasures and delights without moral quandary: enslaved people, organs, sex, and animals. Nothing was missing, and perhaps the sight of it all, framed by rusted metal compartments stained in blood, could shake a creature's foundation. At every turn, demonic breeds clutched at the hems of our sleeves, begging to make a sale or, worse, a deal. 

Our garments dried quickly there. However, there was no warmth to the crimson atmosphere, only a bone chilling cold was present. So, dry as we might have been, we were certainly no better off. 

"We'll never find him here," Tristan sighed.

"We might," I said.

"Aaron, we can leave. We should go home. Hamilton's sister is none of our trouble."

"I said I would help him."

"We can't search every inch of this hell hole? It's larger than most cars put together. We'll be lucky to find an ivory door, much less the conductor."

"Wouldn't it be a waste not to try now that we're here?" I argued while holding my nose away from the stench of harvested flesh left on display in a stall just behind Tristan's back.

"You're an angel without a halo," he reminded me, but I told him, "I'm an angel with or without it. I can't break my word."

"You mean you won't." 

"Does your word mean nothing, Trisal? I thought Demons treasured deals. 

"And bargains and contracts and the like. Neither applies here."

"I made a promise."

"Not in blood. There was no paper, no ink, nothing but words. You owe the human nothing," he reasoned. 

"To believe that, you must feel the same to me," I assumed.

His aggravation was evident. Still, Tristan warned again, "Stay close to me. This place will be a maze without wings."

Traversing Red Market was a long and distasteful process. We had to search without appearing lost. Merchants would do almost anything to make a sale. Similarly, they might have fought to hold precious products like us. 

Our lack of magic was the danger but, ironically, may have also been advantageous since humans were often undervalued goods. An angel without the ability to use magic would have been a catch. 

After hours of walking through corridors of hands pulling us to hear bargain after bargain, even I had to admit we hadn't made progress. But we hadn't found an ivory door either. No door, no conductor, no girl. What we had were blood-stained boots and the burning stench of death. 

"They're fresh."

"No, thank you," I said in passing.

"You won't find any more pure," said another.

"I don't doubt you," I remarked while Tristan hurried me along before a genuine conversation could begin.

We could have walked for years. Even without a halo, I was something close to immortal. But after several days in that place, I couldn't imagine staying a moment longer. It was then that the ivory door appeared. Its white frame stuck out in the red and copper tones of the market. Tristan and I saw it at the same moment. 

We're leaving," Tristan said, and I told him, "I know."

There was no indication, but I believed the door appeared after my hope had waned. It desired a level of despair. Though Tristan, despite his apparent disinterest in our search, hadn't drawn the ivory out of hiding. How long might he have humored my wish? 

The Gold Yard, in stark contrast to Red Market, had to have represented the conductor finding roots in the Overlands. A long stretch of open field full of wildflowers and trees reaching up to a sky blue as an ocean welcomed us. Everything that grew there turned to gold in color. Every blade of grass, though green at first, would evolve to that same royal hue. In the Overlands, similar fields sought to cultivate immortal beauty. However, those fields often changed not only in color but in atoms as well. Solid gold. I preferred the train's lesser transformations. Such beauty would eventually die, but those flowers were allowed their softer textures and fragrant aromas. 

"We can't find him without magic, can we?" I said. 

He must be here somewhere," My demon spoke with a sigh.

Had we exchanged convictions?

"This is the last car, the last dimension," I reminded my companion, but Tristan remarked, "Unless he's off the main line."

"When has the conductor ever cared about the satellites?"

"I care for all that exists under my care," a soft tone spoke from a distance before his body stepped into view.