Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPGZ4BT79F5X3NXE22YJ24

The abandoned Tube station beneath Camden smelled of damp concrete and something sharper—burnt ozone with a metallic edge that made Detective Harlow Quinn’s teeth ache. She stepped over the yellow police tape, her boots crunching on broken glass. The dim glow of emergency lanterns cast long shadows across the platform, illuminating a scene that didn’t belong. A body lay sprawled near the tracks, limbs splayed as if mid-dance. Male, mid-thirties, dressed in a tailored suit that looked too expensive for this place. No visible wounds. His face was frozen in an expression of shock, eyes wide and unblinking. "Quinn." Eva Kowalski stood a few feet away, her freckled face pale under the flickering light. She tucked a curl of red hair behind her ear, fingers trembling. Her satchel bulged with books, the leather strap digging into her shoulder. "You shouldn’t be here," Quinn said, voice low. The Market was supposed to be empty tonight. No scheduled gathering, no reason for anyone to be down here. Eva swallowed. "I was—researching. The archives had a lead on a missing artifact." She hesitated, then gestured to the body. "He wasn’t just killed. Something was *taken.*" Quinn crouched beside the corpse, her knees protesting. She pulled on gloves, the latex snapping against her wrists. No blood. No bruises. No signs of a struggle. Just... empty. She checked his pockets—wallet, keys, a receipt for coffee. Nothing unusual. Then she saw it. A faint shimmer on his collar, like oil on water. She pressed her fingers to it, and a jolt of static bit her skin. She hissed, jerking back. "Told you," Eva muttered. She adjusted her round glasses, peering down at the body. "There’s residue. Magical discharge." Quinn shot her a look. "Magic isn’t real, Kowalski." Eva arched a brow. "Then explain the compass." Quinn’s wrist twitched, her leather watch strap digging in. She’d found the damn thing in her desk three weeks ago, left there after a case gone cold. A small brass compass, its face etched with strange symbols. It had led her here tonight, its needle spinning wildly until she stepped onto the platform. She didn’t like coincidences. Quinn stood, brushing grit from her slacks. "This was a hit. Professional." Eva scoffed. "Professional *what*? There’s no weapon, no forced entry. Just a dead guy and a hole in reality." Quinn ignored her, scanning the platform. The Market stalls were shuttered, their wooden frames draped in tarps. But one stood open—a vendor’s table with a velvet cloth, now rumpled, as if someone had grabbed something in a hurry. She walked over, running her fingers along the edge. Dust. And something else—a smear of silvery powder. She sniffed. Bitter, like burnt herbs. "Someone was here," she murmured. "Recently." Eva joined her, peering at the powder. "Alchemical residue. Probably from a ward." She chewed her lip. "Whoever did this knew how to cover their tracks." Quinn’s gut tightened. She’d seen this before. Three years ago, with Morris. No evidence. No leads. Just a body and questions that went unanswered. She turned back to the victim, studying his face. His mouth was slightly open, lips parted as if he’d been about to speak. She leaned in, squinting. There. A flicker of movement in his pupils. Not a reflection—something *inside*. A shadow, writhing. Quinn recoiled. "What the hell—?" Eva grabbed her arm. "Don’t touch him again." Quinn shook her off. "You *knew*." Eva’s green eyes flickered. "I suspected. This isn’t just murder. It’s a *feeding*." The word hung between them, ugly and impossible. Quinn’s pulse thudded in her ears. The compass in her pocket hummed, its needle twitching toward the body. She exhaled sharply. "Start talking. Now." Eva hesitated, then reached into her satchel. She pulled out a leather-bound journal, its pages crammed with handwritten notes and sketches of sigils. "There’s a market beneath the market. A place where things are traded that shouldn’t exist." She met Quinn’s gaze. "And someone’s stealing them." Quinn’s jaw tightened. The pieces were there, just out of reach. A dead man. A missing artifact. A compass that pointed to things unseen. And Eva, standing in the middle of it all, knowing too much. Quinn reached for her cuffs. "You’re coming with me." Eva didn’t flinch. "You won’t believe me until you see it for yourself." She held out a bone token—a small, carved piece that gleamed under the lantern light. "Next full moon. If you want answers." Quinn stared at the token, then at the body. The shadow in his eyes had spread, creeping across the whites like ink in water. She took the token. The case had just gotten a lot more complicated.