Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT02X3Z1JJKSZZ70HR9FXMK

Detective Harlow Quinn stepped off the last stair and onto the dusty, abandoned Tube station platform, the faint scent of decay and forgotten history clinging to her like a damp shroud. The Veil Market's latest incarnation, hidden beneath Camden's bustling streets, was now a crime scene. Quinn's eyes, a deep, piercing brown, scanned the area with military precision, drinking in every detail. A makeshift barrier, comprised of rusty old gates and yellow police tape, cordoned off a section of the platform. Quinn's gaze homed in on the focal point: a body, shrouded in a black sheet, lay near the wall. She approached, her worn leather watch glinting in the faint light that filtered through the grimy skylights above. "Quinn, glad you're here," a voice called out, belonging to her colleague, Detective Inspector Liam Reed. He stood by the barrier, sipping from a thermos, his expression a mask of neutral interest. "We've got a weird one." Quinn raised an eyebrow, her sharp jaw setting in a firm line. "Weird?" She echoed, her voice firm, as she began to circle the perimeter of the crime scene, taking in the subtle signs of recent, hurried evacuation. "What's the story, Liam?" Reed shrugged, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Victim's a female, mid-twenties. No ID on her. The market stallholders claim they didn't see or hear anything. Just...found her like that when they were packing up after the full moon shift." Quinn's attention snapped back to the body, her mind whirring with the inconsistencies. The Veil Market didn't 'find' bodies; it was a place where clandestine deals were struck, and the unexplained were everyday occurrences. She knelt beside the shrouded form, her fingers instinctively reaching for the hem of the sheet before pausing, awaiting forensics' clearance. "Evidence?" Quinn asked, not looking up, her focus on the minute details around the body. "Nothing concrete. No signs of forced entry or struggle. Just this..." Reed walked over, holding out a small, evidence-bagged object. "Found near the victim's hand. A Veil Compass. You know, those dodgy navigation tools from the Shade artisans?" Quinn's gaze locked onto the bag, her eyes narrowing. The Veil Compass, with its brass casing etched with protective sigils, seemed out of place in this context. Typically, such an item would be the prize, not the clue. She took the bag, her fingers tracing the verdigris patina on the compass's casing, a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach. "This isn't just any Veil Compass," Quinn murmured, her mind racing with the implications. "The sigils...they're not standard. This was crafted for a specific purpose, or person." Reed snorted. "You're not suggesting our victim was mixed up in something spooky, are you, Quinn? I mean, this is just a mugging gone wrong, or a deal gone sour. The compassion in me wants to believe she wasn't involved in whatever shady dealings this market peddles." Quinn stood, the movement fluid, her eyes never leaving the compass. "I'm suggesting we don't have all the pieces, Liam. And what we do have, doesn't add up." She tucked the evidence bag into her pocket, the weight of the compass a constant reminder of the enigma before her. "Let's review the stallholders' statements again. I want to know everyone who was here during the full moon shift." Reed sighed, scribbling notes on his pad. "Already on it. Though, I gotta say, Quinn, you're barking up the wrong tree if you think this ties into your...other case." Quinn's gaze flashed to Reed, a warning glinting in her eyes, but she said nothing. The mention of her lost partner, DS Morris, and the unexplained circumstances surrounding his death, still struck a raw nerve. Yet, the nagging voice in her head refused to be silenced: what if this was connected? What if the truth lay hidden, much like this market, beneath the surface of the everyday world? "Get me those statements, Liam," Quinn ordered, turning back to the body, her voice firm. "And find out who last handled this compass. I want to know where it points to, and why our victim had it." As Reed departed to fulfill her requests, Quinn gently lifted the sheet, revealing the victim's face. A freckled complexion and curly red hair met her gaze, a spark of recognition igniting in her mind. This wasn't just any victim; this was Eva Kowalski, Aurora's childhood friend and an occult researcher. The game, as they say, had just changed. Quinn's sharp jaw clenched, a resolve forming in her chest, akin to the patina that clung to the Veil Compass. She would unravel the threads of this mystery, no matter how deep they delved into the unknown, or how close to home they struck. "I'm sorry, Eva," Quinn whispered, her voice lost in the eerie silence of the abandoned station. "Justice will be served, even if it means uncovering secrets that were meant to remain hidden." With a deep breath, Quinn began her meticulous examination of the crime scene, the Veil Compass's presence echoing in her thoughts like a beacon, guiding her toward the truth, one carefully observed detail at a time.