Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR97KFVVX3RVJJ1KQR8ZN5

Detective Harlow Quinn arrived at the scene, a dilapidated Tube station beneath Camden, known by those in the shadows as the Veil Market. Her footsteps echoed through the eerily quiet tunnels, amplifying the sense of abandonment. A harsh fluorescent light flickered above, casting a ghostly glow over the dank corridors. The air was filled with a mix of mildew, decay, and something faintly metallic. "Quinn, over here," called a familiar voice. She made out the figure of Detective Sergeant Harper, a broad-shouldered man with a perpetually furrowed brow. His voice was tinged with discomfort. "This doesn't add up." Quinn nodded and approached, her eyes scanning every nook and cranny. The Market, usually bustling with a hidden economy of supernatural trade, now lay silent. Booths, once filled with forbidden artifacts and shadowy figures, were abandoned and in disarray. "What do we have?" Quinn asked, her voice steady. Harper gestured to a scene roped off by crime scene tape. "Body of a young man, early twenties. Can't find any ID on him. No obvious cause of death. No signs of struggle." She crouched beside the body, her sharp eyes examining. The victim lay with eyes open, yet they displayed an unsettling blankness. His skin was pale, unnaturally so, as if drained of life itself. Her gaze moved to his fingertips, noticing faint burn marks. "Look at his hands, Harper," she pointed out. "What do you make of that?" Harper rubbed his chin. "Could be chemical burns. Maybe he got mixed up with something dangerous down here." Quinn frowned. "Possible, but why only the fingertips? And why no other burns or marks anywhere else?" She stood, her mind sifting through the threads of anomalies. Small brass compass lay beside the body, catching her eye. She picked it up, noticing the verdigris patina and etched sigils on its face. "Seen one of these before?" she asked Harper, holding it up. He shook his head. "Looks like an antique, though. Maybe he was a collector?" "Not an ordinary compass," Quinn muttered, more to herself. "This is a Veil Compass, attuned to supernatural energy. Could explain why he was here." Harper looked baffled. "Supernatural energy? Come on, Quinn. You don’t really buy into that, do you?" She locked eyes with him. "Something happened here, something beyond the ordinary. We can't ignore the signs just because they don't fit our conventional understanding." Harper sighed, conceding. "Alright. What's your theory, then?" Quinn paced, her worn leather watch ticking softly. "Let’s assume he was using the Compass to find a supernatural rift or portal. Something must have gone wrong, possibly fatally." She turned her attention to a nearby booth, partially obscured by shadows. Flipping open her flashlight, she saw a clutter of alchemical substances, some spilt and broken. A pungent odor wafted up, causing her nose to wrinkle. "Harper, look at this. These substances, they're not ordinary. Banned alchemicals," she stated, carefully picking up a shattered vial with gloved hands. "Someone clearly didn’t want anyone to find out what they were doing," Harper mused. Quinn's gaze darted back to the body, then to the scattered paraphernalia. "Let’s consider a ritual. These substances," she pointed towards the booth, "could have been part of a failed ritual. Something that required precision and power." "Ritual? As in magic?" Harper's eyebrows arched skeptically. "Stay open-minded, Harper," she replied. "The Market is known for trading enchanted items and forbidden knowledge. It fits." She moved back to the body, her eyes narrowing on an overlooked detail—a faint set of symbols near the man's neck. "These markings, they're not random. Ritual glyphs.” Harper leaned in for a closer look, his face blanching. "How did we miss that?" "Because you were looking for simple answers," Quinn said, standing up. "But there's nothing simple about the Veil Market." She roved the area one last time, a puzzle assembling in her mind. “If he was attempting something risky, perhaps opening a rift, and it went awry, it might have backfired catastrophically.” Harper exhaled, rubbing his temples. "So, what now?” "We need to find out who he is, who he was working with, and why he was here,” she summarized. “I'll reach out to one of my contacts who knows the supernatural underworld better than anyone.” **** Eva Kowalski arrived within the hour, her curly red hair glowing even in the dim light of the abandoned station. She pushed her round glasses up her nose, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her left ear as she approached the crime scene. “Eva,” Quinn greeted with a nod. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.” “No problem. You said it was urgent.” Eva’s eyes scanned the area, taking in the unsettling ambiance. Her gaze fell on the body, and she visibly paled. “Oh my.” “Indeed,” Quinn replied. “We need your expertise. Can you make sense of these symbols?” Eva knelt beside the body, her fingers lightly tracing the glyphs without touching them. “These are ancient,” she murmured. “Sumerian, perhaps. They denote a ritual of crossing, often used to open gateways between realms.” Harper looked incredulous. “You’re saying he tried to open a portal?” Eva nodded, her curiosity piqued. “But without the proper safeguards, the energy backlash could have been fatal. That would explain the burns.” Quinn interjected, “Do you recognize this Compass?” Eva glanced at the Veil Compass with a mix of intrigue and concern. “It’s a Shadow Compass, used to locate rifts. Very rare. Only a few Shade artisans know how to make them.” Harper scratched his head. “Why would he need to do this down here, in the Market?” “Likely because no one would notice,” Eva explained. “Or because the Market itself is a nexus of supernatural activity. Either way, he was playing with forces he couldn’t control.” Quinn felt the pieces falling into place. “We need to find out who sold him the Compass and these substances. Someone in the Market knows something.” Eva adjusted her glasses, determination shining in her green eyes. “I can help with that. I know a few vendors who deal in this sort of... merchandise.” Harper seemed to resign himself to the surreal turn of events. “Alright, but where do we start?” “Start by questioning the regulars,” Quinn directed, stepping into her role with military precision. “Anyone seen acting suspiciously recently.” Eva interjected, "Also, check if any other Market patrons have ended up in similar situations." Harper nodded, setting off to talk to the few Market stall owners who had dared to linger nearby. Quinn watched him go, her mind turning over the implications. “Eva, can you stay and help me gather more information on these glyphs?” “Of course, Harlow.” Quinn studied the worn leather satchel slung over Eva’s shoulder, filled with tomes that held secrets most people couldn’t even fathom. They had a long night ahead of them, unraveling the mystery at the heart of the Veil Market. And as unsettling as the day's discoveries were, Quinn felt a rare flicker of something akin to hope. Maybe, just maybe, they were edging closer to the truth behind DS Morris's death, and the shadows that lurked just beyond the edge of the known world.