Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT00EQZ46MFQ7Q5ZYBD7M3M

In the belly of London, beneath the bustling streets of Camden, Detective Harlow Quinn descended into the abandoned Tube station that housed the Veil Market. The market, a supernatural black hole, moved locations every full moon, and tonight, it was her oyster. Her worn leather watch glinted in the dim light as she checked the time, her sharp jaw set in a grim line. She'd been chasing whispers of this place for years, and finally, she had a reason to dig deeper. The station was a labyrinth of shadows and echoes, the air thick with the scent of old stone and something more sinister. Harlow's boots echoed on the cracked tiles as she followed the yellow tape that led her to the crime scene. A body lay sprawled on the platform, the victim's eyes wide open, staring at nothing. She approached cautiously, her military precision kicking in, her gaze sweeping the scene. Dr. Amelia Hart, the coroner, was already there, her gloved hands hovering over the body. She looked up as Harlow approached, her glasses reflecting the harsh light. "Quinn," she acknowledged, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're late." Harlow ignored the jab. "What do we have, Amelia?" Dr. Hart stood up, her eyes scanning the body. "Male, late twenties. Cause of death? That's where it gets interesting." She pointed at the victim's chest. "See these marks? They're not from any knife I've seen. They're... too perfect." Harlow leaned in, her brow furrowing. The wounds were indeed peculiar, precise cuts that seemed almost... surgical. "What are you suggesting, Amelia? Some kind of ritual?" Dr. Hart shrugged. "I'm a coroner, not an occult expert. But I've seen enough to know when something's not right. And this?" She gestured to the body. "This is very, very wrong." Harlow's gaze drifted from the body to the rest of the platform. Something was off. The usual market chatter was absent, replaced by an eerie silence. The stalls, usually brimming with enchanted goods and banned alchemical substances, were empty. Even the air seemed still, as if the very atmosphere was holding its breath. She turned to her colleague, DCI Richard Thompson, who was busy scribbling notes. "Rich, what's your take on this?" Thompson looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "I think it's a gang initiation gone wrong. The victim, according to our sources, was a small-time dealer. Maybe he refused to pay protection money, or maybe he was trying to muscle in on someone else's territory." Harlow raised an eyebrow. "And the wounds? The empty market?" Thompson shrugged. "Maybe they panicked and fled. Or maybe they're just lying low until the heat's off." Harlow's gaze drifted back to the body. Something didn't add up. She pulled out her Veil Compass, the small brass compass crafted by a Shade artisan, its face etched with protective sigils. The needle spun wildly, then pointed towards the tunnel leading out of the station. Harlow's heart pounded. She knew that look. The compass was reacting to supernatural energy. She tucked the compass away, her mind racing. If there was supernatural activity here, it could explain the peculiar wounds, the empty market. But it also meant she was treading on dangerous ground. The Veil Market was a place where the rules of the mundane world didn't apply. Harlow turned to her team. "I want this scene processed thoroughly. Every inch of this station needs to be searched. And I want a list of everyone who was here tonight. If anyone knows anything, I want to hear it." Thompson nodded, but she could see the skepticism in his eyes. He didn't believe in her supernatural hunch, and she didn't blame him. She didn't have proof, not yet. But she knew, deep in her gut, that this was more than just a gang initiation gone wrong. Harlow walked away from the body, her boots echoing in the silent station. She followed the compass's lead, her hand resting on the butt of her gun. The tunnel was dark, the air colder. She could feel the energy, pulsating like a heartbeat. It was strong here, stronger than she'd ever felt it before. She rounded a corner and stopped dead in her tracks. There, etched into the wall, was a symbol. It was a rune, one she recognized from her partner's old case files. The case that had ended with Morris's death and a supernatural mystery she'd been trying to solve ever since. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was it. This was the break she'd been waiting for. She pulled out her phone, snapping pictures of the rune. She needed to get back to the station, run these pictures through the system, see if they matched anything in their database. But as she turned to leave, she heard a noise. A soft shuffling, like footsteps echoing in the distance. She froze, her hand tightening around her gun. She wasn't alone. She listened, her breath held captive in her lungs. The footsteps grew louder, closer. She could hear the rustle of fabric, the soft inhale of breath. She counted the steps, her heart pounding in her ears. Three... two... one... She spun around, her gun drawn, just as a figure emerged from the shadows. It was a woman, her curly red hair a stark contrast against the dark tunnel. She wore a worn leather satchel full of books, round glasses perched on her nose. Her freckled complexion was pale, her green eyes wide with fear. Harlow lowered her gun, her brow furrowing. "Eva Kowalski," she said, recognition dawning. "Aurora's friend. What are you doing here?" Eva swallowed hard, tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear. "I could ask you the same thing, Detective Quinn," she replied, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "But I think we both know why we're here." Harlow's gaze drifted back to the rune on the wall. She could feel the energy pulsating, stronger now that Eva was here. She looked back at Eva, her eyes narrowing. "You know something about this, don't you?" Eva hesitated, then nodded. "I think we both do, Detective. The question is, what are we going to do about it?" Word count: 1000