Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMNFJ09180149WC2X42R2MP

The air in the abandoned Tube station was thick with the scent of damp stone and something older—something metallic, like old blood. Detective Harlow Quinn adjusted the strap of her leather watch as she stepped inside, the cold metal biting against her wrist. The station had been sealed shut for years, but the Veil Market still found a way in, its presence a creeping shadow over the skeletal remains of the platform. She crouched beside the body, her sharp jaw set in concentration. The victim—a man in his late thirties, his face frozen in a rictus of pain—lay sprawled across the concrete, his hands clutched to his chest. The wound was deep, the flesh torn open as if by something unseen. But the knife in his gut was clean, its edge still sharp, the blade still warm. “You’re sure it’s not just a stabbing?” a voice asked from behind her. Harlow didn’t turn. “It’s not. The angle’s wrong. The force of impact would have torn him apart.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Veil Compass, its brass casing worn smooth by time and use. The needle didn’t point north—it didn’t point anywhere. Instead, it hovered, suspended, as if caught in the weight of something unseen. She traced the sigils on the face with her thumb, the protective carvings shifting faintly under her touch. “You’re not from around here,” the voice said again, softer now. Harlow straightened, brushing dust from her uniform. “Detective Quinn. And you?” A woman stepped forward, her curly red hair catching the dim light of the station. She wore round glasses perched on her nose, and her freckled complexion was pale under the artificial glow. “Eva Kowalski. Research assistant at the British Museum.” “You’re not a cop,” Harlow said. “No. But I’ve been studying the Veil Market for years.” Harlow exhaled through her nose. “Then you know what this is.” Eva’s fingers twitched, as if she wanted to reach for something in her satchel, but she didn’t. “Not quite. The knife—it’s not natural. The wound doesn’t bleed like human blood. It’s… darker.” Harlow’s watch ticked against her wrist. “You’re saying it’s supernatural.” “Or worse.” Eva’s voice dropped. “I’ve seen things like this before. In the archives.” Harlow turned back to the body, her sharp jaw tightening. “You’re telling me this guy wasn’t just some random thief, and he wasn’t killed by a rival gang?” Eva hesitated. “No. And I’m telling you, the Veil Market doesn’t just sell enchanted goods. They sell things that don’t belong in this world.” Harlow’s mind raced. The Veil Market moved every full moon, but this wasn’t the first time she’d found evidence of something… off. Something that didn’t fit. “You think this is connected to the clique?” Eva’s eyes flicked toward the shadows at the far end of the platform. “I think it’s connected to something older. Something that shouldn’t be here.” A low, guttural sound echoed from the darkness—a sound like grinding teeth. Harlow’s hand went to the grip of her sidearm, her instincts screaming at her to move. But Eva was already there, her voice sharp with urgency. “It’s not just a body,” she whispered. “It’s a warning.” The needle on the Veil Compass didn’t move. It didn’t flicker. It didn’t do anything. But the air around them felt different. Thicker. Like the weight of something unseen pressing down. Harlow’s breath came faster. “What the hell is that?” Eva’s voice was barely a whisper. “The Veil Market doesn’t just trade in secrets. Sometimes, it trades in things that should never be.” A shadow stretched across the platform, long and unnatural, the edges bleeding into the darkness like ink in water. Harlow’s pulse hammered in her throat. She knew what that was. She’d seen it before. In the back of her mind, she’d always known. “Eva,” she said, her voice steady despite the terror clawing at her, “you’re telling me this is a rift.” Eva’s hands trembled. “I’m telling you, Detective Quinn, that this isn’t just another case. This is something that shouldn’t exist.” The shadow pulsed, expanding, and then— A scream. Not from the body. From the darkness. A sound that wasn’t human, that wasn’t supposed to be here. It cut through the station like a blade, and for a moment, the world stopped. Harlow’s eyes locked onto the Veil Compass. The needle didn’t move. It didn’t flicker. It didn’t do anything. But the air did. Something shifted. And then the lights went out.