Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPEKE7VNW9EFJ5RENF0YDH

Detective Harlow Quinn emerged from the underground passage into the stale, electric-tinged air of The Veil Market. The Market, hidden beneath the façade of an abandoned Tube station in Camden, stretched out before her in a labyrinth of makeshift stalls and dimly lit alcoves. Only the clink of rare metals and the hushed barter of illicit traders disturbed the musty quiet, save for the faint drip of water trickling from the unseen pipes above. It wasn't the first time Harlow had infiltrated a place like this, but today was different. Today, it was a crime scene. Her breath turned visible in the chill of the underground air, mixing with strands of shadows that flickered in the unreliable glow of mismatched bulbs. She adjusted the worn leather watch on her left wrist, its familiar weight reassuring against her skin, as she moved with the military precision etched into her bones. Eva Kowalski waited for her near a cluster of crates marked with the symbol of a crow in flight. The young woman's curly red hair was a beacon against the dark, her round glasses perched on a freckled nose. Even with the air of clandestine commerce around them, she was tucking strands of hair nervously behind her ear, the way she always did when something itched at the back of her mind. "Detective," Eva greeted, her voice a blend of relief and urgency. Her satchel, stuffed with books as usual, dangled at her hip like a weight. "I'm glad you came." Harlow's eyes narrowed slightly. "What have you got for me, Eva? I've been told something unusual's gone down." Eva adjusted her glasses, her green eyes sharp behind the lenses. "It's over here. One of the vendors found it this morning." The pair wound their way through the bustling stalls, the tantalizing scent of exotic spices teasing their noses, until they reached a secluded corner swathed in shadow. A patch of floor, marked off with a perimeter of dull red tape, was the focus. The stall itself was an assemblage of crates and tarps, but it was what lay inside that had drawn her here—a body, face ghostly pale, strangely untouched by the grime of the Market. The victim was a young man, unremarkable in appearance, dressed in ordinary street clothes that seemed out of place in this eldritch bazaar. His expression was serene, almost as if peaceful slumber had claimed him; only the unnatural stillness betrayed the truth. Eva hesitated a step behind as Harlow knelt beside the body, her brown eyes scanning the scene with meticulous care. "There's no sign of violence," Eva observed, her voice soft. "And nothing stolen." Harlow nodded, eyes alighting on the small brass object clutched in the young man's hand—a Veil Compass, its verdigris casing and sigil-marked face distinct even in the dim light. The needle, she noticed, pointed unwaveringly towards his chest. It was peculiar. Normally, the Compass would guide its bearer towards the nearest supernatural rift or portal, reacting to energies unseen by ordinary means. This inertia of the needle, however, suggested a profound disturbance, something anchored within. "Why didn't anyone report this sooner?" Harlow asked, rising to a stand, eyes still absorbing the surroundings. "The Market," Eva replied, a touch of frustration mingling with understanding in her voice. "They move with the moon. Secrets here, people cover up." "Right." Harlow rubbed her jaw, her mind mapping possibilities. "Someone needs to know more about how he ended up here." "The vendor who found him is... reluctant to talk," Eva said, throwing a quick glance towards the man, crouched and fidgeting among the shadows. His gaze skittered from them when he realized they were discussing him. Harlow crossed to the vendor, drawing upon the weight of her authority. "I need you to tell me what you know," she said, voice steady, yet unyieldingly soft. The vendor swallowed hard, eyes flitting nervously between Harlow and the retreat of shadows along the walls. "Saw him... saw him late last night, wandering. Thought maybe he was lost. Happens sometimes, folks getting turned around." "And this Compass?" Harlow inclined her head towards the brass object. "He’d had it all along?" The vendor shook his head, more certain now. "No, didn't see it at first. Showed after... after he was gone. Can't say how, I swear it." "There're signs it appeared when he passed," Eva murmured, coming up beside Harlow. "His body shows no transport, no alteration. Just... stopped." Harlow studied the vendor for a beat longer, then returned to the body, the questions assembling themselves in a pattern she didn’t yet fully grasp. Her eyes fell again on the Compass, its needle stubbornly affixed in its supernatural orientation. "What if," Harlow speculated aloud, "he wasn’t trying to find something, but running away from it?" Eva considered the notion, her eyes catching light in a reflective flash. "The Compass reacted to something nearby, perhaps? But no other rifts showed up on the census I checked earlier." Harlow crouched once more, her senses attuned to the faintest of disturbances. The shadows here seemed different, languid and pervasive, crawling with the flickers of unseen energies. She sensed a dissonance, something wrong—like the resonance of a note just slightly off-key. "Maybe we’re looking at this wrong," Harlow said. "If the needle's drawn to him, beneath flesh lies something we can’t see. We need to take him into secure custody, search for what others have missed." Eva nodded slowly, almost begrudgingly. She would rather pore over the texts in her archives, unearthing meaning through pages and ink. But Harlow had learned to trust her instincts, and Eva, sensing this, accepted the detective’s judgment with a measure of faith. "I'm curious about the vendor's story," Eva said, casting a suspicious glance back. "Still, this man's presence here means the Market is compromised, isn’t it? Something threaded within a tapestry of deceit." "Secrets without end," Harlow confirmed, her throat tight. "We'll bring him topside for the coroner. There’s more here than just a lifeless body." As the full moon crept near, signaling the Market’s imminent relocation, the passages of the underground world breathed restlessly around them. Harlow and Eva, flanked by truth and intangible whispers, began their ascent toward the world above, where daylight and inquiry awaited. The depths of The Veil Market knew many secrets, wrapped in dark silence and echoing whisper. But Harlow carried with her a determination to unravel the cloak of mystery, piece by precise piece, until the whole truth lay unveiled in the light. And as the paths unfolded, so too did the lingering specter of the supernatural—the forgotten chord she’d become in tune with, chasing the specter of a partner lost.