Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT01533XTCV80HXHW4CNJAJ

In the grimy underbelly of Camden, Detective Harlow Quinn descended into the abandoned Tube station, her worn leather boots echoing on the damp, moss-covered steps. The stench of decay and something more sinister hung heavy in the air, a far cry from the bustling markets above. Her salt-and-pepper hair, cropped short, barely stirred in the stagnant breeze as she stepped onto the platform, her sharp jaw set in a grim line. The Veil Market, a hidden supernatural black market, had moved here for the night, its entry requirement met by the bone token now tucked safely in her pocket. The market was a labyrinth of makeshift stalls, hawking everything from enchanted trinkets to banned alchemical substances. Tonight, it was a crime scene, and something about it didn't sit right with Quinn. Her colleague, Detective Andrew "Andy" Harris, was already there, his lanky frame hunched over a body sprawled on the grimy ground. He looked up as she approached, his eyes reflecting the sickly glow of the market's lanterns. "Quinn," he acknowledged, straightening up. "You're just in time. Victim's name is Samuel 'Sammy' Blake. Dealer here, small-time. Throat slit, clean cut. No sign of struggle." Quinn crouched down, her military precision evident in her movements. She examined the body, her brown eyes taking in every detail. "No defensive wounds, no sign of forced entry," she murmured, more to herself than to Harris. "Yet his wallet's still on him, and look at this." She pointed to a small, brass compass clutched in Blake's hand. "He was holding onto this when he died. It's not your average compass, Andy. See the sigils etched on the face? This is a Veil Compass. It points towards supernatural rifts or portals." Harris squinted at the compass, his brow furrowing. "You think this is related to the supernatural, Quinn? You know the brass doesn't like us jumping to those conclusions." Quinn stood up, her gaze sweeping over the market. "I'm not jumping to anything, Andy. I'm just saying, this isn't your average murder. Look around. The market's still open, but no one's panicking. They're going about their business like this is normal. Something's off." She turned to a nearby stall, where a hooded figure was packing up their wares. "Hey!" she called out, striding over. The figure froze, then slowly turned. A young woman with curly red hair and round glasses looked up at Quinn, her green eyes wide behind the lenses. "Eva Kowalski," Quinn said, recognition flickering in her eyes. "What are you doing here?" Eva tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear, a nervous habit Quinn remembered well. "Detective Quinn," Eva acknowledged, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I work here now. Aurora sent me." Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Aurora? The clique's leader? You're working for her now?" Eva nodded, her freckled complexion flushing. "I'm just a researcher, Detective. I provide information, that's all." Quinn's gaze hardened. "Information about what, Eva? The supernatural? The clique's involvement in it?" Eva looked away, her silence speaking volumes. Quinn turned back to the body, her mind racing. She knew Eva was involved in something dangerous, something that had cost her partner, DS Morris, his life three years ago. She couldn't prove it, not yet, but she was getting closer. She crouched down again, examining the body more closely. There was a faint, almost imperceptible mark on Blake's neck, just below the cut. It looked like a small, crescent moon. She'd seen that mark before, in the case files of Morris's death. She felt a chill run down her spine. "Quinn," Harris called out, his voice hesitant. "You're not thinking... you're not thinking this is related to Morris, are you?" Quinn stood up, her expression grim. "I'm not thinking anything, Andy. I'm just saying, we need to look into this. Closely." She walked back to the body, her eyes scanning the crowd. She needed to find out who'd done this, and why. And she needed to find out what Eva Kowalski knew about it all. Because she was sure, whatever was going on here, it was just the tip of the iceberg.