Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMYESSR13MM6REHB2XMR1R

The abandoned Tube station at Camden was supposed to be a dead end. That was the word Detective Harlow Quinn had gotten from the precinct—no bodies, no signs of struggle, just a routine call about a disturbance in a restricted area. But the moment she stepped beneath the rusted sign that read *Camden Town Station* in faded, peeling letters, her boots crunching over broken glass and the scent of damp stone thick in her nose, she knew it wasn’t routine. Eva Kowalski stood near the entrance, her satchel slung over one shoulder, her round glasses reflecting the sickly glow of the emergency lights. She was the one who’d called it in, or rather, the one who’d *noticed* it. Eva had a habit of noticing things others missed. That was why Quinn had dragged her here, against her better judgment. The last thing she needed was a civilian—especially one with a master’s in Ancient History—complicating her case. “You’re sure this is the right place?” Quinn asked, her voice low, sharp. The station’s arched ceiling loomed above them, its ribs of concrete cracked and sagging, the air thick with the metallic tang of old blood and something else—something sharp, like ozone after a storm. Eva tucked a strand of curly red hair behind her left ear, a nervous habit Quinn had learned to read. “Positive. The coordinates matched the description of the Veil Market’s last known location.” She held up a crumpled piece of paper, the ink smudged as if from hurried fingers. “This is where the last sighting was. And according to the sources I’ve been tracking, this is where they move to every full moon.” Quinn exhaled through her nose, her sharp jaw tightening. The Veil Market. A name that sent a chill down her spine. It wasn’t on any official map, but whispers of it had been creeping into the underbelly of London for years—a black market for the supernatural, where enchanted goods and forbidden knowledge changed hands under the cover of darkness. And now, it was here. In her jurisdiction. “You’re telling me this place is some kind of occult bazaar?” Quinn asked, though she already knew the answer. The evidence was in the details—the way the shadows pooled unnaturally in the corners, the faint hum of energy that prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Eva shrugged, her freckled cheeks flushed. “I didn’t say it was a bazaar. I said it’s a *market*. And if you look closely—” Quinn cut her off with a gesture. “I’ve looked closely. I’m the one who found the body.” Eva’s breath hitched. “Body?” Quinn led the way deeper into the station, her flashlight cutting through the gloom. The tracks ran empty, the platforms littered with debris—broken crates, discarded bottles, the occasional glint of something metallic. But it wasn’t the debris that made her stomach clench. It was the *lack* of it. No signs of a struggle. No blood pooling on the ground. No body, not even a skeleton. “Where is it?” Eva whispered, her voice tight. Quinn’s boots scuffed against the grime as she moved toward a crumpled figure near the far wall. The body was small, curled into itself, as if trying to disappear. But it wasn’t trying hard enough. The flashlight beam caught the pale skin, the dark smudges under the eyes, the way the fingers were splayed as if reaching for something just out of reach. “This isn’t right,” Eva murmured. Quinn crouched, her gloved fingers brushing the body’s shoulder. The skin was cold, but not unnaturally so. No rigor mortis. No signs of decay. Just… still. Like someone had turned off a switch. “What do you mean?” Quinn asked, though she already knew. “There’s no blood. No wounds. No signs of violence.” Eva’s voice was steady, but her hands were trembling as she reached into her satchel and pulled out a small notebook. She flipped it open, her fingers tracing the pages. “According to my sources, the Veil Market deals in more than just goods. They deal in *people*. And if this is one of them—” “One of *them*?” Quinn’s voice was a growl. Eva hesitated, then nodded. “They’re not always human. Or not entirely. The market thrives on the supernatural, Detective. And whatever happened here… it wasn’t natural.” Quinn’s jaw clenched. She didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. She stood, brushing the dust from her knees, and turned to the body again. The flashlight caught something glinting at the victim’s throat—a thin silver chain, the end of it a small, oddly shaped pendant. Quinn plucked it free, turning it over in her fingers. It was a compass, small and brass, its face etched with strange sigils. The needle wasn’t pointing north. It wasn’t pointing anywhere. It was just… still. “This isn’t right,” Quinn muttered. Eva leaned in, her glasses catching the light. “That’s a Veil Compass. They’re rare. Used to navigate between realms.” Quinn’s fingers tightened around the pendant. “And this one was around someone’s neck.” Eva’s eyes widened. “Someone who wasn’t supposed to be here.” Quinn’s mind raced. The Veil Market. The compass. The body that wasn’t a body. It didn’t add up. Not in the way it should. She turned to Eva, her voice low and dangerous. “You said you had sources. Who else knows about this place?” Eva swallowed hard. “Only a few. Most of them don’t talk. And the ones who do… they don’t live long.” Quinn’s gaze darkened. “Then we’d better figure this out before they decide to take another one.” She stepped back, her flashlight sweeping the area one last time. The shadows seemed to shift, to move just beyond the edge of her vision. She could feel it—the presence of something else in this place. Something watching. Something waiting. Quinn holstered her weapon, her fingers brushing the familiar weight of her badge. She had a case to solve. And if the Veil Market thought they could operate in her jurisdiction without consequences, they had another thing coming. She turned to Eva, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her. “Let’s start with the basics. Who was this person? How did they end up here?” Eva hesitated, then reached into her satchel again, pulling out a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it carefully, revealing a sketch—crude, but clear. A face, blurred but unmistakable. A woman with sharp features, a sharp jawline, eyes that seemed to see right through you. Quinn’s breath caught in her throat. She knew that face. It was her own.