Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0KD1W3KSX985XK5E1SKPV

The abandoned Tube station beneath Camden smelled of damp concrete and something metallic—blood, maybe, or rust from the disused tracks. Detective Harlow Quinn ducked under the police tape, her boots crunching over broken glass. The flickering emergency lights cast jagged shadows across the platform, turning the graffiti-covered pillars into looming sentinels. At the far end, a forensics team clustered around a body sprawled near the tracks. Quinn’s sharp jaw tightened as she approached. The victim—male, early thirties, dressed in a dark suit—lay face-down, one arm outstretched as if reaching for something. No visible wounds, no blood pooling beneath him. Just the unnatural stillness of the recently dead. "Quinn." Eva Kowalski stood by the platform edge, her round glasses reflecting the dim light. She clutched her worn leather satchel against her hip, fingers drumming against the strap. "You’re here early," Quinn said. Eva tucked a curl of red hair behind her ear. "They called me in. Thought it might be... unusual." Quinn crouched beside the body, her knees protesting. She snapped on gloves and turned the man’s wrist. No watch. No wallet. Just a faint, spiraling mark burned into his skin—a sigil she didn’t recognize. "Robbery?" Eva shook her head. "Nothing was taken. His phone’s still in his pocket. Cards, cash—all there." Quinn frowned. "Then why drag him down here?" Eva hesitated. "Maybe he wasn’t dragged." Quinn shot her a look. Eva’s freckled face was pale under the fluorescents. "Look at his shoes." Eva pointed. "No scuff marks. No dirt. If he’d walked here through the tunnels, they’d be filthy." Quinn’s gaze flicked to the victim’s polished oxfords. Spotless. "So he was killed here." "Or brought here after." Eva’s voice dropped. "But look at the platform. No drag marks. No disturbance in the dust." Quinn straightened, scanning the scene. The forensics team worked methodically, but their movements were too slow, their voices too hushed. Something was off. She stepped back, her military-trained eyes picking apart the details. The body lay perfectly centered between two pillars. The tiles beneath him were clean—no grime, no debris. As if the spot had been prepared. "Who found him?" "Anonymous tip. Patrol unit responded." Eva shifted her satchel. "They said the lights were out when they arrived. Had to use torches." Quinn’s fingers brushed the worn leather of her watch strap. "Lights work now." Eva nodded. "Came on by themselves about ten minutes before I got here." A chill prickled Quinn’s neck. She moved toward the tracks, peering into the darkness. The rails gleamed faintly, too polished for a disused line. "You ever heard of the Veil Market?" Eva asked suddenly. Quinn turned. "What?" Eva wet her lips. "Rumor. An underground market. Moves locations. Sells things you can’t get anywhere else." Quinn’s pulse kicked. "What kind of things?" Eva’s green eyes flicked to the body. "The kind that leave marks like that." Quinn exhaled sharply. She studied the sigil again—the precise, deliberate lines. Not a brand. Something else. "You think this was supernatural." Eva didn’t answer. Quinn clenched her jaw. Three years ago, Morris had vanished chasing a lead that made no sense. She’d found his notebook later, filled with sketches of symbols like this one. She crouched again, this time examining the victim’s outstretched hand. His fingers curled slightly, as if he’d been holding something. "There’s residue." She rubbed her gloved thumb against his palm. A faint shimmer clung to the latex. "Like ash, but..." Eva knelt beside her, pulling a small brass compass from her satchel. The face was etched with intricate sigils, the needle twitching erratically. Quinn stared. "What is that?" Eva didn’t look up. "Something that shouldn’t exist." The compass needle spun wildly, then jerked to a stop—pointing straight at the body. Quinn’s skin crawled. "Eva—" A sharp crack echoed through the station. The lights flickered, died. In the sudden darkness, the compass glowed faintly green. Then the body moved.