Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT01QYJAXV0QBT5YCHKQRF2

The abandoned Tube station reeked of damp concrete and something older—something that clung to the back of Quinn’s throat like rust. Her torch cut through the dark, illuminating peeling posters advertising long-forgotten theatre shows and a rusted ticket booth with its glass shattered. The beam caught the glint of something metallic near the edge of the platform. “Over here,” she called, her voice sharp in the hollow space. DS Carter didn’t move. He stood near the station’s old exit, arms crossed, his breath fogging in the cold. “You sure this is the right place? Feels like a waste of time.” Quinn didn’t answer. She crouched, brushing her fingers over the object—a brass compass, its face etched with strange symbols. The needle trembled, then spun wildly before settling on a point just beyond the platform’s edge. She frowned. No magnetic field down here should’ve made it behave like that. “Quinn.” She ignored him, standing and stepping closer to the platform’s drop-off. The torchlight revealed a body sprawled across the tracks, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. A man, mid-thirties, dressed in a tailored suit now stained with something dark and viscous. His face was frozen in an expression of sheer terror, eyes wide, mouth open as if he’d tried to scream. “Christ,” Carter muttered, finally moving. “What the hell happened here?” Quinn didn’t take her eyes off the body. “No signs of struggle. No defensive wounds. But look at his hands.” Carter crouched beside her, his torch flickering over the victim’s fingers. They were clenched around something—a small, smooth stone, its surface carved with the same symbols as the compass. “What is that?” Carter asked. “No idea.” Quinn reached for it, but the moment her fingers brushed the stone, a jolt of cold shot up her arm. She jerked back, her breath hitching. The stone pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. Carter didn’t notice. “You think he was robbed? Maybe he was carrying something valuable?” Quinn stood, her gaze sweeping the platform. “No. This wasn’t a robbery.” She pointed her torch at the ground near the body. “See those marks? Drag marks. Someone moved him here after he died.” Carter followed her line of sight. “So he was killed elsewhere?” “No.” Quinn’s voice was low. “He wasn’t killed at all.” Carter’s head snapped up. “What?” Quinn crouched again, this time examining the body’s neck. No bruising. No ligature marks. No signs of trauma. But the skin was pale, almost translucent, and when she pressed two fingers to the carotid artery, she felt nothing. No pulse. No warmth. “He’s been dead for hours,” she said. “But look at his clothes. No dirt. No dust. Like he was placed here after he died.” Carter exhaled sharply. “You’re saying someone dumped a corpse in an abandoned Tube station?” Quinn didn’t answer. She stood, her torch sweeping the platform again. Something caught her eye—a faint, shimmering line in the air, like heat haze, but colder. It stretched from the body to the edge of the platform, then vanished into the dark. “Quinn?” She didn’t respond. Instead, she stepped closer to the haze, her hand reaching out. The air grew colder, her breath visible in sharp, rapid bursts. Her fingers brushed the haze—and for a split second, the world *shifted*. The platform was gone. In its place, a vast, shadowed market stretched before her, stalls lined with strange goods, their wares glowing faintly in the dim light. Figures moved between them, their forms indistinct, their voices a low murmur. Then, just as quickly, the vision vanished, and she was back in the abandoned station, her hand trembling. “Quinn!” Carter’s voice was sharp, insistent. “What the hell are you doing?” She turned, her face pale. “We need to call this in. Now.” Carter stared at her. “You’re not making sense. What did you see?” Quinn didn’t answer. She pulled her phone from her pocket, her fingers fumbling with the screen. The compass in her other hand pulsed again, the needle spinning wildly before settling on the same point—just beyond the platform’s edge. Somewhere in the dark, something moved.