Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT10G169HCFDRR0CG5C888D

Harlow Quinn stepped into the abandoned Tube station beneath Camden. The air felt thick, almost gelatinous, as if weighed down by the secrets this place harbored. Flickering fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an eerie glow over the damp walls. She adjusted her leather watch, its worn surface smooth beneath her fingers, and surveyed the scene. A body lay sprawled on the cracked tiles, a young man with pale skin and tousled hair, his eyes oddly vacant, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. The faint scent of iron hung in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of decay. Blood pooled beneath him, congealing into dark, jagged shapes that sent a chill down her spine. Detective Mason stood a few feet away, his broad shoulders hunched over a notepad. He scribbled something, his brow furrowed. Quinn approached, her gaze locked on the evidence. There had been reports of unusual activities in the market, whispers of stolen artifacts passed around like currency in an underbelly she could never fully grasp. “Quinn.” Mason glanced her way, his tone buoyed by recognition. “You’ll want to see this.” She leaned in closer, studying the scene. “It’s a straightforward cut,” Mason said, motioning to the wound on the man's neck. “Clean, precise. Knows what he’s doing.” “Straightforward?” Quinn furrowed her brow. “No sign of a struggle. Look at the position of the body.” He shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t see it coming.” “Or it wasn’t meant for him.” Quinn’s voice dropped, her instincts prickling. “Look at how he’s lying. His arms are relaxed, almost… at ease.” She knelt down, inching closer to the ground. “It’s like he was standing casually before someone just—” She stopped, her mind racing. “Before someone just what?” Mason prompted, crossing his arms. Quinn straightened, her gaze darting around the room. Graffiti decorated some of the walls, odd symbols intermixed with swirling tags. A single phrase loomed large in the corner: “Truth hides in shadows.” “People don’t just drop dead in a place like this without a reason.” She gestured towards a nearby wall. “Those marks,” she said. “They aren't random.” Mason sighed. “You think it’s connected? This place and…” He trailed off, searching her expression for understanding. “It’s all connected,” Quinn insisted. “It’s the Veil Market. Items go missing, and people don’t come back. That’s not just coincidence.” Mason jotted down a note, skepticism etched across his features. “Until we find something more concrete, it’s best to remain cautious with those assumptions.” “Caution won’t cut it down here,” Quinn shot back, temper flaring. “I need you to follow me on this. What about the blood? It’s drying too quickly. Too uneven. Look at the way it spreads; it shouldn’t be like this unless…” “Unless?” Mason tilted his head, brow raised. She took a steadying breath, mask of professionalism tightening. “Unless he bled out elsewhere. Dragged here after.” Mason stepped back, bracing against the concrete wall, crossing his arms as he shot her a flat look. “And you think someone just… dragged him in?” “Yes.” Quinn gestured to the nearby doorway leading deeper into the station, shadowed and opaque. “And I think they left something behind.” She moved, the rhythm of her boots echoing off the walls, filled with purpose as she headed through the opening, the darkness swallowing her whole. Mason hesitated for a heartbeat, then followed, chastised curiosity edging him forward. Inside, the air shifted. A thick, pungent mix of must and something sweet, almost cloying, greeted her. Faded images of long-forgotten advertisements lined the walls, their colors muted. Guessing it had been some time since this area saw any action, she traced her fingertips along the surface of an old poster, the torn edges crumbling beneath her touch. “There’s nothing here.” Mason groaned beyond her. “Your imagination is running away with you again.” Quinn shut him out, straining to listen. Silence wrapped around them, but it was something more than just ordinary absence; it hummed with potential chaos. “Did you hear that?” she whispered, eyes narrowing. “What?” Mason stretched his ears, straining for an echo lost on the wind. “Footsteps,” she snapped, moving deeper into the shadows. “Someone’s here.” “Quinn, wait—” His voice faded as her instinct propelled her forward. The corridor opened into a larger chamber, construction debris strewn across the floor, and a distinct metallic tang enveloping the stale air. She paused, surrounding herself with the tenseness of the moment. Her gaze darted—nothing moved. Just silence. A shiver located itself at the base of her spine. “Who knows this place?” Quinn murmured, prowling hungrily through the clutter. “The whispers aren’t unfounded. This isn’t just about explosions and bruises; this is bigger.” She found it, half-buried underneath a broken beam—a compact brass compass, its face etched with protective sigils, verdigris patina glinting dully in the thin light. The Veil Compass? In the middle of a murder scene? A chill washed over her. She pocketed it without hesitation, her heart pounding. “Quinn!” Mason's voice surged with urgency. “Get back here—” She turned. Just then, footsteps echoed through the chamber, and her body ignited with adrenaline. Shadows darted against the far wall. “Get down!” She dropped to the floor, kicking debris aside, and peered around the corner, pulse racing. Mason cursed softly behind her, but she focused on the flickering shadows ahead. If her hunch was right—and it usually was—this was it. The figures emerged slowly, fluidly, their forms wrapping around the edges of the flickering light. Quinn gritted her teeth, guessing they were the ones who’d dragged the victim here. The thieves of shadows, gathering fragments of wishes and secrets they had no right to claim. “Mason.” Each word escaped in a ragged whisper, her voice steady despite wild thoughts clawing within. “What?” he returned, glancing nervously at the encroaching darkness. “Be ready.” She bolted toward the flickering shadows, directing the first of her questions. But her heart raced with another realization: it was no longer just about the dead. It was about the truth sealed within those hidden spaces, nestled deep in the heart of the Veil Market. And she would unearth it.