Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMNC4PR08Q78XB09XTQ2Z6P

The abandoned Tube station smelled of damp stone and something older—something like rusted iron and the faint, sickly sweetness of decaying fruit. Detective Harlow Quinn adjusted her gloves as she stepped over the jagged edge of the platform, her boots crunching on broken glass and the occasional brittle bone. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, their flickering glow casting long, skeletal shadows against the walls. The station’s name—*Camden Road*, though no one had seen a train here in decades—was peeling off the tiles in great, jagged strips, as if the very place had been erasing itself. Eva Kowalski stood near the far end of the platform, her satchel slung over one shoulder, her round glasses reflecting the sickly light. She was tucking a strand of curly red hair behind her ear, her freckled cheeks flushed with something between irritation and dread. When she saw Harlow, she exhaled sharply through her nose, as if bracing herself for whatever she’d find. “You’re late,” Eva said, her voice tight. “I thought you’d never get here.” Harlow didn’t answer right away. She crouched beside the body, her sharp jaw set, her military precision already at work. The victim was a man in his late thirties, dressed in a cheap suit that had seen better days. His face was slack, his lips slightly parted, as if he’d been caught mid-gasp. But what made the scene impossible was the way his skin *shimmered*—not like a reflection, but like wet silk under moonlight, catching the light in uneven patches. His fingers were curled around a small brass compass, its casing etched with sigils that looked like they’d been carved by something other than human hands. The needle was frozen mid-swing, pointing straight at the ceiling. “What the hell is that?” Harlow asked, her voice low. Eva crouched beside her, her satchel opening with a soft *thud* as she pulled out a small notepad and a pen. “That’s a Veil Compass,” she murmured. “Rare as hell. Only found at the Veil Market.” Harlow’s fingers twitched. She knew about the Veil Market—every cop in London did, in hushed tones. Underground. Illegal. Dealing in things that weren’t supposed to exist. But this? A corpse with a supernatural artifact in his hands? That was new. “And what’s *he* doing with it?” Harlow asked, gesturing to the body with a gloved hand. Eva hesitated. “I don’t know. But he wasn’t just some random buyer.” Harlow’s gaze flicked to the body again. The man’s wrists were raw, as if he’d been bound tightly for hours. There were no ligature marks—just the kind of damage that came from something *pulling* at him, not restraining him. And then there was the blood. Not just on the ground, but *in* the ground. The tiles around the body were stained dark, but not in the usual way. The blood had *seeped* into the cracks, like ink bleeding through paper. “Look at this,” Eva said, pointing to a smear of something dark and viscous near the man’s shoulder. “Not human. Too thick.” Harlow’s pulse quickened. She knelt, examining the stain. It wasn’t quite blood—too viscous, too *glossy*. It smelled like copper and something metallic, like old pennies left in the rain. “Alchemical,” she muttered. “Or worse.” Eva’s breath hitched. “You think it’s *them*?” Harlow didn’t answer. She stood, brushing the dust from her knees, her sharp jaw tightening. “Who found him?” “A homeless guy. Said he heard screaming last night. Came down here this morning, found him like this.” “And no one called it in sooner?” “He was scared,” Eva said. “Said he thought it was a prank at first.” Harlow’s eyes narrowed. “Or he knew what it was and didn’t want to get involved.” Eva didn’t argue. She knew Harlow’s reputation—her obsession with the unsolved, the unexplained. The way she saw patterns where others saw chaos. Harlow turned slowly, scanning the platform. The walls were lined with graffiti—most of it old, faded, but some of it fresh, as if someone had been here recently. She crouched, examining a new tag near the ceiling. It was written in a language she didn’t recognize, but the symbols were familiar—similar to the ones on the Veil Compass. “That’s not English,” she said. Eva leaned in, squinting. “It’s something older. Maybe Elvish? Or something closer to the old Norse runes.” Harlow stood, her mind racing. “And the body—no defensive wounds. No struggle. Just… this.” She gestured to the man again, to the way his skin still glowed faintly, as if something inside him was still moving, still *alive* in a way that defied logic. Eva swallowed hard. “Harlow, what if he wasn’t just a buyer?” “What if he was a *test*?” Eva’s breath caught. “You think they’re experimenting on people?” Harlow didn’t answer. She walked to the edge of the platform, staring down into the darkness below. The station’s ventilation shafts were open, the air rushing up from below like a slow, hungry breath. She could almost hear it—whispers, murmurs, something just beyond the edge of hearing. “They’re getting bolder,” she said quietly. Eva followed her gaze. “Who?” “Them.” Harlow’s voice was a blade. “The ones who run the Veil Market. The ones who deal in things that shouldn’t exist.” Eva’s fingers tightened around her notepad. “And you think this is connected to Morris.” Harlow didn’t look at her. She knew Eva saw the way she flinched when Morris’s name came up. The way her hands clenched into fists when she thought about the last case—the one that had taken him, the one that still haunted her in the quiet hours of the night. “It’s too much of a coincidence,” Harlow said finally. “Three years ago, a man with a Veil Compass went missing. Now this.” Eva’s eyes widened. “You think they’re using the compass to find people?” Harlow turned, her gaze locking onto Eva’s. “I think they’re using it to *change* people.” A beat of silence. The hum of the lights filled the space between them. Then Eva exhaled sharply. “We need to get this to the lab. Fast.” Harlow nodded, but her mind was already racing ahead. She pulled out her watch—a worn leather thing, the kind that had seen too many cases, too many nights. The time was already late. The full moon was rising. And the Veil Market would be open.