Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0CBAHSD8XNE98REA8Z0BT

Harlow Quinn stepped off the maintenance ladder and onto the cracked tiles of the abandoned Tube platform. Dust motes danced in the beam of her torch, settling on the graffiti that coated the curved ceiling. The air tasted of copper and old ozone, thick enough to coat the back of her throat. She checked the worn leather watch on her left wrist. The hands glowed faintly in the dark, marking the time well past midnight. This place did not exist on any Transport for London map. The signage read Camden Town, but the tracks ended in a brick wall fifty yards down. Shadows pooled in the corners, deeper than the darkness should allow. Quinn clicked her torch off. Her eyes adjusted to the dim blue luminescence emanating from stalls set up along the platform edge. The Veil Market. Eva Kowalski crouched near the center of the platform, her back to the detective. The red curls of her hair formed a chaotic halo around her head. She wore round glasses that reflected the blue light. A worn leather satchel sat open beside her, spilling books with cracked spines onto the dirty floor. Quinn approached, her boots making no sound on the grit. She stopped beside the researcher. A body lay between them. A man, dressed in rags that shimmered like oil on water. His skin remained unbroken, yet his eyes were wide, fixed on the ceiling. No blood pooled beneath him. Eva tucked a stray curl behind her left ear. Her fingers trembled. The researcher opened her satchel further and withdrew a small brass compass. Verdigris stained the casing. Sigils etched into the face glowed faintly. The needle spun wild, then locked, pointing not north, but down into the tracks. Quinn knelt. She pulled a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and snapped them onto her wrists. She leaned over the corpse. Rigor mortis had not set in. The skin felt cold, colder than the ambient temperature of the tunnel. Quinn lifted the man's hand. The fingernails were blackened, as if burned from the inside out. Eva adjusted her glasses. The heat signature is wrong. This isn't natural combustion. Quinn released the hand. It dropped with a dull thud. You think someone used magic. I think something crossed over. The Compass reacts to rifts. The needle holds steady on the tracks. Something came through here and took him. Quinn stood. She walked a circle around the body. Her sharp jaw tightened. She scanned the perimeter. The stalls around them remained shuttered, wooden fronts carved with symbols that hurt the eyes if stared at too long. No vendors. No witnesses. Just the dead man and the silence. She returned to the head of the corpse. She shone her torch into the man's mouth. The tongue was swollen, blackened like the nails. If something came through, where did it go? Eva stood. She brushed dust from her knees. Her green eyes widened behind the lenses. It went back. The rift closed. That is how the Veil works. Open, take, close. Quinn shook her head. She pointed to the man's shoes. Look at the soles. Eva leaned in. The rubber soles were caked in dry, red clay. Quinn walked to the edge of the platform. She shone her light onto the tracks. The ballast consisted of grey London gravel and crushed concrete. No red clay existed in the Camden underground. He didn't die here. Eva frowned. She tucked her hair behind her ear again. The gesture repeated, faster this time. The Compass points here. The energy residue is fresh. The Compass points to energy, not bodies. Someone moved him. Quinn holstered her torch. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a evidence bag. She plucked a fragment of material from the dead man's collar. The fabric felt like silk but burned her fingertips through the latex. She dropped it into the bag. If he died elsewhere, why bring him to the Market? To stage it. To make it look like a breach. Quinn turned her gaze to the brick wall at the end of the tracks. She walked toward it. Her footsteps echoed in the hollow space. Eva followed, the brass compass held out in front of her. The needle swung wildly as they moved away from the body, then settled again, pointing at the wall. Quinn ran a hand over the bricks. Mortar crumbled under her touch. She found a spot near the ground where the dust had been disturbed. A drag mark. Fresh. She crouched. The mark led away from the wall, toward the body. Someone dragged him from the maintenance tunnel behind the wall. Not from a rift. Eva lowered the compass. Her brow furrowed. But the energy reading. It is undeniable. Quinn stood. She wiped her gloved hand on her trousers. Energy lingers. People move bodies. You are looking at the spell, Eva. I am looking at the murderer. The detective walked back to the corpse. She knelt beside the satchel of books. One lay open. Pages filled with handwritten notes on Shade artisans and portal mechanics. Quinn scanned the text. Diagrams of the Veil Compass filled the margins. You brought him here to hide the cause of death. If the Met finds him in a normal morgue, we run tox screens. If we find him here, we call in the specialist unit. We call in you. Eva stepped back. She clutched the compass to her chest. I did not know he was dead when I brought him. I found him wandering the stalls. He collapsed. Quinn rose. She towered over the smaller woman. The blue light cast long shadows across Quinn's salt-and-pepper hair. You found him wandering. In a market that requires a bone token to enter. A market that moves every full moon. Eva's breath hitched. She looked at the tracks, then at Quinn. I have my ways. Quinn checked her watch again. The luminous hands ticked forward. Show me the token. Eva tightened her grip on the compass. The needle jerked, swinging toward Quinn's wrist. Quinn froze. She looked at her own watch. The leather strap appeared normal, worn and cracked from years of service. But the Compass needle vibrated, humming with a low frequency that Quinn felt in her teeth. She peeled back the strap of her watch. Beneath the leather, embedded in the casing, a sliver of bone glowed faintly white. Quinn stared at the object. She had worn this watch for five years. She had worn it when DS Morris died. She had never seen the bone insert before. Eva's eyes locked onto the watch. The fear in her green eyes shifted to recognition. That is not standard issue. Quinn snapped the strap back down. She covered the bone with her thumb. Where did this come from? Eva took a step forward. She reached out, then stopped. The Compass does not lie. That bone... it belongs to the Market. It is a key. Quinn backed away. Her hand hovered near her service weapon. I never came here before tonight. The Compass needle spun again. It pointed from Quinn's watch to the dead man on the floor. A line of energy seemed to connect them, invisible but heavy in the air. Eva opened her satchel. She pulled out a piece of chalk. She began to draw a circle around Quinn's feet. Do not move. Quinn stood still. Her muscles coiled. You think I killed him. I think you brought him here. The bone token opens the way. You walked him through. Quinn looked at the dead man. She looked at the watch. The memory of three years ago flashed behind her eyes. Morris falling. The strange light. The silence. She grabbed Eva's wrist. The chalk snapped. Tell me what this is. Eva pulled free. She rubbed her wrist. It is a tether. You are linked to the Veil. And he died because the link was severed. Quinn looked down at her watch. The leather seemed to pulse. If I am linked, who cut the cord? Eva pointed the compass at the tunnel entrance. The needle swung hard, locking onto the darkness beyond the platform. Someone else is here. And they have the other end. Quinn drew her weapon. The metal felt cold in her grip. She aimed into the dark tunnel. Show yourself. Silence answered. The blue light of the market flickered. The stalls groaned as if shifting position. Eva tucked her hair behind her ear. Her hand shook. They know we found the body. They will come to clean the rest. Quinn kept the gun trained on the shadows. Let them come. She stepped out of the chalk circle. The powder scattered under her boot. We need to move the body. Standard procedure. Eva shook her head. If you move him, the energy dissipates. We lose the trail. Quinn holstered her weapon. She grabbed the body under the arms. Then we follow the trail before it fades. Eva grabbed the legs. They lifted the dead man. The weight felt wrong, lighter than a human should be. Quinn looked at the drag marks leading to the maintenance tunnel. Lead the way. Eva held the compass out. The needle pointed into the dark throat of the tunnel. They began to walk, carrying the dead man between them, deeper into the underground. The air grew colder. The sound of dripping water echoed like footsteps behind them. Quinn did not look back. She focused on the watch on her wrist. The leather felt warm against her skin.