Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPG42H29SJT3QZA5SEYXNV

In the belly of Camden, where the Tube's forgotten veins pulsed with a decaying rhythm, Detective Harlow Quinn descended into the abandoned station that was tonight's grim dance floor. The air was thick with the stench of damp earth and something else—an acrid tang that set her teeth on edge. Her worn leather watch glinted in the sickly light as she consulted it, her sharp jaw clenched. She was late, and punctuality was the only thing she took seriously these days. The crime scene was a mess, a chaotic ballet of uniforms and forensics techs dancing around the body like vultures. DCI Thompson, her colleague and occasional thorn in her side, was already there, his round face flushed with excitement. He held up a evidence bag containing a bone token, the entry requirement to the Veil Market, now a grim trophy. "Quinn," he greeted her, "look what we've got. Our vic was into some dark stuff." Quinn took the bag, her brown eyes narrowing as she examined the token. It was old, its surface worn smooth by countless palms. She looked back at the body, a young woman sprawled on the platform, her lifeless eyes staring up at the peeling posters. Her throat was slit, a precise, brutal cut. No struggle, no defensive wounds. Something about this was off. "Dark stuff, Thompson?" she asked, her voice a low rumble. "Or something else entirely?" Thompson huffed, adjusting his tie. "What else could it be, Quinn? She was here, at the Veil Market. She was involved in something... unnatural." Quinn didn't respond, instead walking around the body, her military precision evident in every step. She noted the lack of blood spatter, the way the body was posed, almost reverently. She leaned in, sniffing. There was no scent of fear, no adrenaline spike. The vic hadn't been afraid. She'd known her killer. She stood up, her gaze sweeping the platform. Her eyes landed on a small brass compass, its casing verdigris-stained, lying near the body. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. A Veil Compass. She'd heard whispers of these, but this was the first time she'd seen one. It was attuned to supernatural energy, its needle pointing towards the nearest rift or portal. And it was pointing north, towards the tunnel leading out of the station. Thompson followed her gaze, his brow furrowing. "What's that, Quinn?" "A Veil Compass," she replied, pocketing it. "And it's telling us we're missing something." She strode towards the tunnel, Thompson hurrying after her. "Quinn, wait! We haven't cleared that area yet." She ignored him, her boots echoing in the tunnel as she followed the compass's direction. The air grew colder, heavier. The compass needle spun, then settled, pointing straight ahead. A faint glow emanated from the darkness, casting eerie shadows on the walls. They emerged into a large chamber, its walls lined with stalls selling everything from enchanted trinkets to banned alchemical substances. The Veil Market. It was deserted, the usual cacophony of voices replaced by an oppressive silence. The glow came from a circle of candles in the center, a body laid out within it. Thompson swore behind her, his breath coming in sharp gasps. "Quinn, what is this?" She stepped into the circle, her gaze on the body. Another young woman, her eyes closed, a serene smile on her lips. No wounds, no sign of struggle. She was dressed in a simple white gown, her hands clasped over her chest, holding a small, intricately carved stone. An offering. Quinn knelt, examining the stone. It was warm to the touch, pulsing with a faint energy. She looked up, her gaze scanning the chamber. Her eyes landed on a symbol etched into the wall, a sigil she recognized from Eva Kowalski's research. It was a rune of protection, a ward against supernatural intrusion. She stood up, her mind racing. This was a ritual, a sacrifice. But to what? And why? Thompson was looking at her, his eyes wide. "Quinn, this... this isn't natural. We should call it in, get some backup." She looked at him, her expression unreadable. "And tell them what, Thompson? That we've got a supernatural murder on our hands? They'll laugh us out of the station." He swallowed hard, looking away. "So, what do we do?" She looked back at the body, her jaw set. "We do our job, Thompson. We find out who did this, and why. And we bring them to justice." She walked out of the circle, her mind already racing with possibilities. This was bigger than anything she'd ever dealt with. But she'd lost her partner to the unknown, and she wasn't about to let that happen again. She would solve this case, no matter what it took. Even if it meant walking into the heart of the supernatural world.