Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0W9AHAT2Z7H15V4VE5GEW

The abandoned Tube station reeked of damp concrete and mildew. Detective Harlow Quinn stepped off the rusted escalator, her boots crunching on broken glass. The dim glow of her flashlight sliced through the darkness, illuminating graffiti-covered walls and the remnants of what once was a bustling footpath. She adjusted the worn leather watch on her wrist, her sharp jaw tightening as she scanned the scene. “Quinn.” A voice echoed from the shadows. DS Evan Carter emerged, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat. “You’re late.” “Traffic,” Quinn replied, her voice clipped. She moved past him, her military precision evident in every step. “What do we have?” Carter gestured toward the center of the platform, where a makeshift altar had been erected. Candles, long extinguished, surrounded a chalk circle etched with intricate symbols. In the middle lay a body, its limbs twisted unnaturally, the face frozen in a silent scream. “Male, mid-twenties,” Carter began, pulling a notebook from his pocket. “No ID. Cause of death looks like exsanguination, but…” He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “There’s no blood. None. Not a drop.” Quinn knelt beside the body, her flashlight hovering over the victim’s neck. Two puncture wounds, perfectly symmetrical, marred the pale skin. She frowned, her brown eyes narrowing. “Bite marks?” “Yeah, but not from any animal I’ve seen.” Carter crouched beside her, his breath visible in the cold air. “We bagged a few things already.” He gestured toward a collection of evidence bags nearby. “A bone token, some weird herbs, and this.” He held up a small brass compass, its face etched with protective sigils, the casing covered in verdigris. “Looks old, right?” Quinn took the compass, her fingers brushing the cold metal. The needle spun wildly before settling, pointing toward a crumbling archway at the far end of the platform. Her jaw tightened further. “What’s through there?” “Nothing. Collapsed tunnel.” Carter shrugged. “But get this—the victim’s fingerprints came back. He’s Mikhail Petrov. Came into the country three months ago. No record, no known associates.” Quinn stood, her gaze lingering on the archway. “This doesn’t add up. No blood, but exsanguination? Bite marks, but no animal? And this…” She held up the compass, her frown deepening. “It’s weird, I’ll give you that.” Carter straightened, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “But maybe it’s just some cult ritual gone wrong. Happens more than you’d think.” Quinn shook her head, her closely cropped salt-and-pepper hair catching the flashlight’s beam. “This isn’t a cult. They wouldn’t leave a body. They wouldn’t leave evidence.” She turned to Carter, her voice low. “What aren’t you telling me?” Carter hesitated, his eyes darting to the alcoves surrounding the platform. “Look, Quinn, I’ve been on this force for fifteen years. I’ve seen things. Things that don’t make sense. Maybe… maybe we don’t ask too many questions here.” Quinn’s gaze hardened. “I’m not here to ignore what’s in front of me. What do you know?” “Nothing concrete,” Carter admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But there’s talk. Underground markets, black magic, things that… defy explanation. People go missing. People turn up like this.” He gestured to the body. “They’re whispers, Quinn. Nothing more.” Quinn’s mind raced. Three years ago, she’d lost Morris under similar circumstances. No evidence, no body, just whispers. She’d buried herself in work since then, vowing to uncover the truth. And now, standing in this abandoned station, she felt it slipping through her fingers again. “We need to check the archway,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “Quinn, it’s collapsed. There’s nothing—” “Carter.” Quinn’s voice cut through his protest. “Humour me.” Carter sighed but followed her as she strode toward the archway. Her flashlight illuminated the pile of debris blocking the tunnel, but Quinn’s focus was on the compass in her hand. The needle still pointed toward the archway, unwavering. “It’s just a compass,” Carter muttered. “Probably broken.” Quinn crouched, examining the debris more closely. Her flashlight caught something—a glint of metal beneath the rubble. She reached out, brushing away the dirt to reveal a hinge. “Carter, help me.” Together, they shifted the debris, revealing a hidden door, its surface etched with the same symbols as the chalk circle. Quinn’s heart pounded as she pushed it open, the hinges groaning in protest. Beyond lay a narrow staircase descending into darkness. “What the hell…” Carter whispered. Quinn stepped inside, the compass needle swinging wildly again. The air grew colder, the scent of dampness replaced by something sharper, metallic. At the bottom of the stairs, they emerged into a cavernous space, lanterns casting flickering light over stalls and shadowed figures. The Veil Market. Carter stopped short, his breath catching. “This… this isn’t possible.” Quinn’s gaze swept the market, taking in the strange wares—enchanted objects, potions, creatures she couldn’t name. Her grip tightened on the compass as her mind pieced together the fragments. “Petrov was here,” she murmured. “He bought something. Or sold something. And it got him killed.” “Quinn,” Carter hissed, grabbing her arm. “We need to leave. Now.” She shook him off, her eyes locked on a stall in the distance. A woman stood behind it, her curly red hair catching the lantern light. Round glasses framed her green eyes, and she clutched a worn leather satchel to her chest. “Wait here,” Quinn ordered, her voice firm. “Are you insane?!” Carter’s voice rose, attracting stares from the market’s patrons. Quinn ignored him, striding toward the stall. The woman noticed her approach, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “Detective,” Eva Kowalski greeted, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “I was wondering when you’d show up.” Quinn studied her, the pieces clicking into place. “You know something.” Eva nodded, adjusting her glasses. “Petrov came to me last week. He wanted information on the Veil Compass.” She gestured to the item in Quinn’s hand. “I told him he was playing with forces he didn’t understand. He didn’t listen.” “What did he want with it?” Quinn demanded. Eva hesitated, her freckled complexion paling. “He was looking for a rift. A way to cross over. He thought it would make him invincible.” Quinn’s jaw clenched. “And you just let him?” “I tried to stop him!” Eva’s voice rose, her hands tightening on her satchel. “But he wasn’t working alone. There’s someone else. Someone… worse.” Quinn’s mind raced. “Who?” Eva shook her head. “I don’t know. But they’re here, in the Market. And if Petrov found the rift…” She trailed off, her green eyes wide with fear. Quinn turned, scanning the crowd. Her gaze settled on a figure cloaked in shadows, watching them from the edge of the Market. Their eyes glowed faintly, a predatory gleam that sent a chill down her spine. “Carter,” she called, her voice sharp. But when she looked back, Carter was gone.