Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPAY5CNBV8SK1925D21NWF

Detective Harlow Quinn leaned against the cold, graffiti-covered wall of the abandoned Tube station, her sharp brown eyes scanning the scene before her. The Veil Market, always shifting like a phantom through the bones of London, had settled here for the night. The once-bustling marketplace now lay eerily empty, the usual din of bartering and whispered secrets replaced by the somber murmur of police radios and the occasional scrape of a boot on concrete. The body lay sprawled in the center of what had once been Track 9, surrounded by a small cluster of uniformed officers and a couple of clinical looking forensic technicians. Harlow approached with the precision that had been drilled into her during her early years in the military. Her salt-and-pepper hair caught the harsh yellow glow of the station's aged emergency lighting as she knelt beside the deceased. "Victim's name is Mason Tilbury," said a seasoned officer, standing to her left. "He's one of the regulars down here. Known for peddling enchanted trinkets—nothing too high-profile. We found him like this about an hour after the Market cleared out." Tilbury's lifeless eyes stared upwards, his expression frozen in palpable terror. Harlow noted the peculiar absence of any visible trauma on the body. He appeared untouched, unmarked, a starkly incongruous image for a man seemingly struck dead in the midst of what should have been routine trades. "Heart attack?" she ventured, more as a prompt than a serious suggestion. She knew something had happened here that defied the ordinary. "That's what it seemed like at first," answered a second voice, softer, more hesitant. Eva Kowalski, the Museum’s occult research assistant, stood just behind Harlow, her round glasses slipping down her freckled nose. She clutched her worn leather satchel close to her side, her fingers nervously tucking a curl of red hair behind her ear. "But there’s... something else. It doesn’t feel right." Eva had been called in for her expertise when the first signs of the supernatural had appeared at the fringe of this case. Harlow had initially been skeptical of the necessity but had come to appreciate the young researcher’s insights more than she liked to admit. "Show me what you’ve got," Harlow said, straightening, her eyes narrowing with the focus that had won her a decade’s worth of department accolades. Eva took a deep breath, adjusting her glasses as she rifled through her satchel. She pulled out a small brass compass, its verdigris-patinaed casing and etched sigils catching the light. "This is a Veil Compass," she explained, holding it gingerly. "It’s meant to locate supernatural rifts or portals. Watch." She gave the compass a gentle shake, and Harlow’s eyes widened slightly as the needle jittered, then settled pointing eastward towards the old station master's office. "There's something there," Eva said, almost breathlessly. Harlow nodded, following the direction with her gaze. "Whatever 'something' means," she muttered, her pragmatic mind still struggling to fully embrace the more fantastical elements of her current reality. "Let's take a look." They moved as one unit, Harlow taking the lead with her usual confident precision, while Eva followed, her hands trembling slightly as she kept a steady grip on the compass. The musty air grew more oppressive the closer they got to the dilapidated office. Harlow's senses sharpened, every noise, every shift in the shadows more pronounced. The door swung open with a reluctant groan. The scattered paraphernalia of a once-active office now lay in disorderly heaps, papers and trinkets mingling in a chaotic array on the floor. In the far corner, a faint glow pulsated, casting flickering shadows against the cracked walls. "Is that...?" Harlow began, but Eva's quick nod cut her off. "Definitely," Eva confirmed, her voice a whisper. "A residual rift. Someone—or something—opened it recently." Harlow crouched, her gaze narrowing on an object half-hidden beneath a fallen stack of books. Brushing the debris aside, she revealed a bone token, its surface inscribed with runes that twisted and flowed in impossible patterns. "The entry key to the Market," she murmured, turning it over in her gloved hand. "So, he was legit. But what did he see that killed him?" Eva’s eyes darted around the room, analyzing the evidence with a keen academic curiosity. "There’s something more," she said, almost as if thinking aloud. "These rifts... they sometimes leave traces. Emotional or psychic imprints." "Meaning?" Harlow prompted, her impatience tempered by the understanding that Eva’s peculiar expertise was vital here. "Meaning, there might be a way to tap into whatever happened." Eva's fingers danced over her satchel once more, retrieving a small, intricately carved crystal. "This is a scrying stone. We can use it to glimpse past events, if the imprint is strong enough." Harlow watched with a mix of skepticism and reluctant hope as Eva positioned the stone over the glowing remnants of the rift. The crystal shimmered, reacting to the energy in the room, and the station's oppressive air seemed to pulse with latent power. A faint image began to form within the stone—a distorted reflection of the past. Tilbury’s figure emerged first, his outline wavering as if seen through water. He appeared alone, cautiously approaching the very spot where Harlow and Eva now stood. His expression was one of curiosity mixed with apprehension, his eyes darting around as if sensing something unseen. The scene shifted abruptly—Tilbury’s head snapped to the side, his eyes widening in absolute terror. The image fractured into chaos, fleeting glimpses of shadowy forms and indistinct flashes of light, before collapsing into darkness. "Whatever he saw, it scared him to death," Harlow said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. Eva, visibly shaken, nodded. "It was too much for him. But why? What was it?" Before Harlow could respond, the crackle of her radio interrupted, an urgent voice calling her back to the present. "Detective Quinn, we need you at the other end of the station. There's something else you should see." Harlow exhaled sharply, giving Eva a look that was part reassurance, part grim determination. "Looks like we’re not done here yet," she said, marching out of the station master's office with a steely resolve. The other end of the station revealed a grisly sight. Another body, similarly untouched yet unmistakably dead, lay crumpled next to a vendor's stall. This one was a young woman, her face twisted in an expression of abject horror. "Same cause of death?" Harlow asked the officer standing over the body. "Appears so," he replied. "No visible injuries, but look at this." He pointed to the ground beside the body, where a small, leather-bound book lay open, its pages filled with what looked like impossibly fine script. Harlow gingerly picked it up, her eyes scanning the text. "It's in an ancient dialect," Eva said, peering over her shoulder. "I’d need more time to translate, but... this could be significant." Harlow’s mind raced, pieces of the puzzle starting to align in her mind’s eye. Two victims, both seemingly frightened to death, supernatural traces, and now this mysterious book. "Pack it up," she ordered briskly, her voice cutting through the station’s silence. "We’re bringing everything back to the precinct. And Kowalski, I want that translation yesterday." As the team began to mobilize, Harlow took one last look around the abandoned station, her jaw set in a determined line. She was getting closer, she could feel it. Whatever dark force had infiltrated her city, she was going to uncover it. And this time, she wasn’t going to lose anyone else along the way.