Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0JD0TZ14E936AGJ9AY6VX

The water dripped from rusted pipes somewhere in the darkness, each drop echoing through the abandoned Tube station. Detective Harlow Quinn descended the concrete steps, her torch beam cutting through the gloom. The air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—ozone and copper. The body lay in the centre of what appeared to be a makeshift market stall. A man, late fifties, face frozen in an expression of terror Quinn had seen only a handful of times in her eighteen years on the force. "DCI Ramsey said you'd want first look." The voice came from her left. Eva Kowalski stepped forward, adjusting her round glasses. "Though I'm not sure what you expect to find here that the others missed." Quinn turned her sharp jaw towards the younger woman. "You're the occult expert from the British Museum. What are you doing at my crime scene?" "They called me when they found the symbols." Eva gestured towards the walls. Her curly red hair caught the torchlight as she tucked a strand behind her left ear—a nervous habit Quinn noted immediately. "The Met thought it might be gang-related, but I suggested otherwise." Quinn approached the body, her worn leather watch catching the light as she bent down. The victim wore a tailored suit but no identification. His hands were positioned in an unnatural configuration, fingers bent at angles that would have been impossible to achieve while conscious. "Time of death?" "Medical examiner estimates between midnight and three AM. No visible wounds, no signs of struggle." Eva consulted her notebook. "Except for these." She pointed to marks on the victim's wrists—circular burns that looked disturbingly like ritualistic branding. Quinn's gaze swept the area, taking in details that others might overlook. The ground around the body was scorched in a perfect circle, yet no fire damage to the victim's clothing. "And this?" Quinn indicated a small brass object half-hidden beneath the victim's hand. "What do you make of it?" Eva lifted the compass with gloved hands. "Veil Compass. Rare item. Points toward supernatural rifts." "Supernatural?" Quinn raised an eyebrow. "We're dealing with a homicide, not ghost stories." "The needle's spinning." Eva turned the compass in her palm. "It only does that when it's near a powerful energy source or when it's broken." Quinn examined the walls more closely. Strange symbols had been etched into the crumbling brickwork—not painted or carved, but seemingly burned into the surface at a temperature that should have caused structural damage. "Evidence suggests the victim was placed here post-mortem," Quinn said. "No defensive wounds, no sign of restraint. But look at his eyes." The victim's eyes were wide open, pupils dilated to an unnatural degree. The irises had taken on a milky quality, like cataracts forming overnight. "Any identification?" "None. His pockets were empty. Even the labels were cut from his clothing." Eva shivered. "This isn't the first time." Quinn straightened up, her bearing military-precise as she turned in a slow circle. "What do you mean?" "There have been three other cases in the last six months. Similar circumstances. No IDs, impossible angles of the limbs, symbols on the walls." Eva tucked her hair behind her ear again. "The Met closed them all as unsolvable." "Unsolvable isn't a word in my vocabulary." Quinn approached the symbols on the wall, running her fingers millimetres from the surface without touching. "The paint's still wet. Whoever did this was here recently." "It's not paint. The surface was altered chemically. As if the symbols were burned into the molecular structure of the brick itself." Eva held up a small device. "Thermal scanner shows residual heat signature." Quinn's brown eyes narrowed. "That's impossible. These walls are stone. They would have crumbled under that kind of heat." "Exactly." Eva lowered her voice. "The Veil Market moves locations every full moon. Tonight's the full moon. This station won't be accessible tomorrow." "Veil Market?" Quinn's expression hardened. "What aren't you telling me, Kowalski?" Eva hesitated, then reached into her worn leather satchel. She pulled out a small bone token, carved with intricate symbols. "This is how you get in. The Market deals in enchanted goods, banned substances, and information." She met Quinn's gaze directly. "The victim wasn't killed here. He was brought here as a message." Quinn took the token, turning it over in her hand. "A message for whom?" "For you, perhaps. Or for others who can read the signs." Eva pointed to the symbols again. "They're a warning. Something's coming through the rifts. Something that shouldn't be able to cross over." Quinn's mind raced, connecting details that had seemed unrelated. The unexplained death of her partner three years ago. The whispers of a clique operating beyond normal law enforcement. The cases that had landed on her desk that defied logical explanation. "DS Morris—my partner who died—was investigating similar symbols before he was killed." Quinn's voice was low, controlled. "The official report said it was a heart attack, but I never believed it." Eva's eyes widened. "The symbols were on him?" "On his personal effects. Burned into his notebook." Quinn pulled out a small photograph from her jacket pocket, showing a page of familiar-looking markings. "I thought they were some kind of gang code." "They're not. They're binding sigils. Used to contain or summon entities from beyond the Veil." Eva adjusted her glasses. "If someone killed your partner to keep this secret, they won't hesitate to kill again." The Veil Compass in Eva's hand suddenly stopped spinning, its needle pointing directly at a section of wall that appeared solid. "There." Eva whispered. "A rift. It's active now." Quinn approached the wall slowly, her torch beam steady. The brickwork shimmered, revealing a faint outline that hadn't been visible before. "This isn't just a homicide scene." Quinn said. "It's a doorway." "And someone didn't just kill this man." Eva added. "They used him as a key."