Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNEY091ZQAPYMQ3EYCWRTQB

The abandoned Tube station beneath Camden smelled of damp concrete and decayed iron. Detective Harlow Quinn descended the crumbling steps with military precision, her sharp jaw angled downward as her brown eyes scanned the scene. The worn leather watch on her left wrist ticked softly, a steady counterpoint to the faint drip of water echoing from the depths of the station. She adjusted her coat, the weight of her holster reassuringly familiar against her hip. The Veil Market, normally a hive of clandestine activity, was eerily still. Green emergency lights cast long shadows across the platform, illuminating stalls draped in tattered black cloth. The scent of incense lingered faintly, mingling with something metallic—blood, she noted with a grimace. A uniformed officer stood by the platform’s edge, his face pale beneath the flickering light. "Quinn," he greeted her with a nod. "It’s… different down here." "Different doesn’t begin to cover it," she muttered, stepping past him. A pool of blood gleamed darkly on the concrete, its edges disrupted by the subtle scuff of a shoe. Someone had tried to obscure footprints. She crouched, her gloved fingertips hovering just above the stain. The blood was fresh, no more than a few hours old. "Over here," came a voice she recognized. Eva Kowalski stood by a stall, her freckled complexion stark in the sickly light. Her round glasses caught the green glow, obscuring her eyes for a moment. The worn leather satchel slung across her shoulder bulged with books, its strap digging into her coat. She tucked a loose curl of red hair behind her ear—a nervous habit Quinn had noticed before. "What are you doing here, Kowalski?" Quinn asked, rising to her feet. Her tone was sharp, though she couldn’t entirely stifle her curiosity. Eva wasn’t just anyone; she knew more about the occult than anyone Quinn had met, and she had a knack for showing up where she wasn’t supposed to. "I was called in," Eva replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "Detective Morris—when he died, they brought me in to consult. Someone thought this might be… similar." The name hit Quinn like a punch to the gut. Morris. Her partner, gone three years ago under circumstances no one could explain. She swallowed the ache in her throat and stepped closer. "What’s similar?" Eva gestured to the stall behind her. It was a modest setup, its shelves lined with jars of unidentifiable substances and trinkets that shimmered unnaturally in the light. Among the clutter, Quinn spotted a small brass compass, its casing etched with intricate sigils. The needle quivered faintly, pointing not north but toward the darkness of the tunnel. "Is that—?" Quinn started. "A Veil Compass," Eva confirmed. "It points to supernatural rifts or portals. And it’s been… tampered with." Quinn frowned, stepping closer to inspect the compass. The verdigris on its casing was chipped in places, as if someone had scraped it away. The sigils, once protective, were marred by deep scratches. "What does that mean?" she asked, though she dreaded the answer. "It’s been corrupted," Eva said softly. "Someone’s turned it into a lure, not a guide. Whatever it’s pointing to… it’s dangerous." Quinn’s gaze followed the compass needle into the shadows of the tunnel. "And the blood?" Eva hesitated, her green eyes flickering with unease. "I think someone tried to stop it. Whoever they were… they didn’t make it." Quinn scanned the scene again, her sharp eyes catching details others might miss. The scuff marks near the blood pool suggested a struggle. Fragments of broken glass glittered on the ground—a jar smashed in the fight. And there, near the edge of the platform, a faint smear of ash on the concrete. She crouched again, brushing her fingertips over the mark. It was cold, unnaturally so. "There’s more," Eva said, pulling a notebook from her satchel. She flipped it open to a page filled with hastily scribbled notes and sketches. "This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. There’s a pattern—broken sigils, corrupted artifacts, and disappearances. Always near places where the Veil is thin." "The Veil?" Quinn asked, though the word stirred a memory she couldn’t quite place. "The boundary between our world and… others," Eva explained. "It’s not something most people ever encounter. But lately, it’s been weakening." Quinn’s mind raced, piecing together the fragments of the scene. The broken compass, the ash, the blood—they weren’t just random elements. They were part of something larger, something sinister. "You think this was deliberate." Eva nodded. "Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They’re exploiting the Veil, using it for their own purposes." "And what purposes might those be?" Quinn asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. Eva hesitated again, her fingers tightening around the notebook. "That’s the part I’m still figuring out. But whatever it is, it’s already cost lives." Quinn straightened, her sharp jaw set in determination. "Then we’ll stop it. Whatever it takes." Eva’s gaze met hers, and for a moment, Quinn saw something she couldn’t quite name—fear, yes, but also resolve. "Detective… there’s something else you should know." "Spit it out," Quinn said, her tone gruff. "The last time I saw a Veil Compass like this was three years ago," Eva said quietly. "It was found near Detective Morris." The words hung in the air like a curse. Quinn’s chest tightened, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Morris’s face flashed in her mind—his easy smile, the way he’d always had her back. And then the emptiness, the unanswered questions that had haunted her ever since. "You’re saying this is connected to his death," Quinn said, her voice low and hard. Eva nodded. "I think it’s all connected. The Veil, the compasses, the disappearances… and Morris." Quinn turned back to the tunnel, her brown eyes narrowing as she stared into the darkness. The compass needle quivered again, its point unwavering. Whatever lay in that tunnel, she knew she had to face it—not just for the sake of the case, but for Morris. "We’re going in," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Eva hesitated only for a moment before nodding. "I’ll follow your lead." Quinn stepped onto the tracks, her boots crunching on the gravel. The green lights faded behind them as they moved deeper into the tunnel, the air growing colder with every step. The compass needle steadied, pointing them onward. And somewhere in the darkness, something stirred.