AI The abandoned Tube station beneath Camden smelled of damp earth and rusted metal, the faint hum of the city above a distant echo . Detective Harlow Quinn stepped over the cracked tiles of the platform, her sharp jaw set as she surveyed the scene. Flickering emergency lights cast long shadows across the graffiti-strewn walls, and the faint scent of sulfur lingered in the air. She adjusted her worn leather watch , her movements precise, military. The Veil Market was supposed to be a myth, a whispered rumor among the criminal underworld. Yet here she was, standing in its heart.
“Detective Quinn.” The voice came from behind her, smooth and calm. Eva Kowalski emerged from the shadows, her red curls catching the dim light. She pushed her round glasses up her freckled nose, her worn leather satchel slung over her shoulder. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Harlow’s brown eyes narrowed . “Neither are you, Ms. Kowalski. Care to explain?”
Eva tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit. “I was called in. Research purposes. The Market’s been... compromised.”
Harlow scanned the area. The scene was sparse—a single body lay crumpled near the edge of the platform, limbs twisted unnaturally. Blood pooled beneath it, dark and congealed. She crouched, her boots crunching on broken glass. The man’s face was pale, his eyes wide and unseeing. A brass compass lay beside him, its verdigris casing etched with intricate sigils. She picked it up with gloved hands, the needle spinning wildly.
“Veil Compass,” Eva said, her voice low . “Points toward supernatural rifts. Whoever he was, he wasn’t lost.”
Harlow turned the compass over, her sharp gaze taking in every detail. “Cause of death?”
“You tell me.” Eva gestured to the body . “No obvious wounds. No signs of struggle. Just... dead.”
Harlow’s expression hardened. She stood, her eyes sweeping the platform. The evidence didn’t add up. The man’s posture suggested sudden, violent death, yet there were no marks on his body. The blood pool was too large for a natural death, its edges jagged, almost as if it had burst from within.
“You see it, don’t you?” Eva’s voice was soft, almost cautious. “This wasn’t a murder.”
Harlow glanced at her, her tone clipped. “What are you suggesting?”
“Something... otherworldly . This place, the Market, it’s not just a black market. It’s a nexus. A weak spot between our world and... others.”
“Fantasy,” Harlow muttered, her jaw tightening . “Supernatural nonsense.”
Eva’s green eyes met hers, unflinching. “Three years ago, Detective Morris disappeared on a case, didn’t he? No trace. No explanation. You’ve been chasing answers ever since.”
Harlow’s body went rigid. “What do you know about Morris?”
“Enough to know you’ve been looking in the wrong places.” Eva stepped closer, her satchel brushing her hip. “This man—he wasn’t killed by a person. He was killed by something that doesn’t belong here. Something that slipped through the cracks.”
Harlow’s fingers tightened around the compass. The needle spun faster, pointing erratically toward the shadows. She exhaled sharply, her mind racing . The evidence was inconsistent—no weapon, no motive, no plausible cause of death. Yet Eva’s theory, as far-fetched as it sounded, filled the gaps.
“You’re saying this is supernatural.”
“I’m saying it’s something you can’t explain with forensic science.” Eva’s voice was steady, but her fingers gripped her satchel strap tighter. “And if you don’t act fast, more people will die.”
Harlow’s gaze flicked to the body, then to the shadows beyond. The Market was eerily silent, the usual bustle of vendors and buyers absent. The emergency lights flickered again, and for a moment, she thought she saw movement—a flicker of something dark, shifting in the corner of her vision.
“What am I supposed to do, Kowalski? Call a priest?”
Eva’s lips twitched, but her expression remained serious. “You need to find the rift. Seal it. Before whatever killed him comes back.”
Harlow glanced at the compass in her hand. The needle had settled, pointing toward a rusted door at the far end of the platform. She fixed Eva with a hard stare. “You’re coming with me.”
Eva hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
They moved toward the door, the air growing colder with each step. Harlow’s hand hovered near her sidearm, her instincts screaming that something was wrong. The door creaked open with a push, revealing a narrow stairwell descending into darkness. The compass needle jerked sharply downward.
“Down there?” Harlow’s voice was tight.
“Down there,” Eva confirmed.
Harlow took a deep breath, her training overriding her unease. “Stay behind me.”
The stairs groaned under their weight , the darkness swallowing the light from the platform above. The scent of sulfur grew stronger, mingling with something metallic, coppery. Harlow’s pulse quickened , her sharp eyes scanning the shadows. At the bottom of the stairs, the corridor widened into a cavernous chamber, its walls lined with crumbling brick.
In the center of the chamber, a faint shimmer hung in the air —a distortion, like heat rising from asphalt. The compass needle pointed directly at it, trembling violently.
“The rift,” Eva whispered.
Harlow’s jaw clenched . “How do we close it?”
“We need to disrupt the energy. Something that anchors it to our world.” Eva rummaged in her satchel, pulling out a small, leather-bound book. She flipped through the pages quickly , her eyes scanning the text. “There’s a ritual—an incantation. But it requires... blood.”
“Whose blood?”
Eva hesitated. “Yours.”
Harlow’s eyes narrowed . “You’re joking.”
“The rift feeds on life force. Your blood, combined with the incantation, could sever its connection.”
Harlow stared at the shimmering rift, her mind racing . The case, the body, the compass—it all pointed to something beyond her understanding. But Eva’s explanation, as insane as it sounded, was the only thread that made sense.
“Do it,” she said, her voice firm .
Eva nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she opened the book wider. She reached into her satchel again, pulling out a small dagger with an intricate hilt. “This might hurt.”
“Just get it over with.”
Eva took Harlow’s hand, the blade cold against her skin. She murmured something under her breath, a string of words that sounded ancient, foreign. The blade pressed into Harlow’s palm, and she hissed in pain as blood welled up. Eva guided her hand toward the rift, the droplets falling into the shimmering distortion.
The air rippled, a low hum vibrating through the chamber. The rift flickered , the distortion warping and twisting. Harlow’s blood dripped steadily, the incantation growing louder as Eva chanted. The shadows around them seemed to writhe, as if alive.
“Almost there,” Eva murmured, her voice strained .
The rift pulsed once, twice, then collapsed with a deafening crack. The chamber fell silent, the air suddenly still. Harlow’s hand throbbed , but she ignored the pain, her sharp gaze fixed on the spot where the rift had been.
“It’s done,” Eva said, her voice soft .
Harlow exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly . “What now?”
“Now,” Eva said, tucking the book back into her satchel, “you keep looking. There are more rifts, more things that don’t belong here. And if you’re serious about finding answers... you’ll need my help.”
Harlow glanced at her, then at the compass still in her hand. The needle had gone still, pointing nowhere. She pocketed it, her expression unreadable .
“Let’s get out of here.”