Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRF5M7GNCS1XVH5FWCAT33

The abandoned Tube station beneath Camden smelled of damp concrete and something rusted, slumbering beneath layers of dust and neglect. Flickering fluorescent tubes cast uneven pools of sickly yellow light across the cracked tiles and scattered debris. Detective Harlow Quinn pulled up in her battered sedan, the leather strap of her watch catching the weak glare as she stepped out. Her sharp jaw clenched beneath close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. She gestured for the small figure waiting near the station's edge—her partner, Detective Marcus Reid. Reid brushed stray hair from his forehead, voice low. "You sure about this, Harlow? Not your usual scene." "Nothing about this makes sense." Quinn studied the scene—no signs of forced entry or struggle, yet the small pool of dried blood congealed on the concrete, darkening the grime. "No footprints, no chatter. Just... silence." Reid nodded toward the tunnel entrance. "Looks untouched. Maybe a clean-up job, or something supernatural. You know how folks around here talk." "Yeah," Quinn muttered, her eyes narrowing. "Supernatural seems more likely." They moved into the station through a side door left ajar, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the cracked tiles. The air grew colder, the flickering lights casting unsettling shadows that flicked like living things. Inside, the scene was eerily pristine—no signs of chaos, no signs of typical violence. A thin web of dried blood stretched across a low section of wall, and an abandoned, crushed cigarette package lay near the bloodstain. But nothing else seemed disturbed. Reid crouched near the blood, frowning. "No signs of Eva's usual clutter. No torn clothing, no weapons." "Exactly." Quinn kneelt and looked closer. The bloodstain had irregular edges, darkening the floor in a peculiar pattern. She tapped her finger against it, then looked up at Reid. "There’s something off about this." Reid straightened, brushing dirt from his knees. "I’ve been here before, you know. Same kind of setup. Blood, but no other evidence. It’s like... the scene doesn’t belong to the crime." Quinn circled the area slowly, her gaze sharp. “You said you saw nothing out of place?” Reid shook his head. “Nothing obvious. But I’ve been told this station’s got a history. Old myth, folk tales. People say it’s cursed. Maybe that’s where we're headed.” She paused, eyes drifting toward the shadows. She reached into her coat and pulled out her worn leather watch, flicking the face of it. She’d been told before to trust her instincts, and right now, they buzzed with a persistent, nagging sensation. "Reid," she said softly. "What about those sigils you mentioned last week? The ones on the alley? Could they relate?" He looked at her, surprised. “You think someone’s trying to send a message?” “Better,” she said. Her voice dropped. “They’re trying to hide something. Or control it.” Reid hesitated, then nodded. “You think this blood's not what it seems?” She studied the bloodstain again, noticing how it seemed almost too uniform in its darkness. No flecks or splatters. It was as if it had been painted on, deliberately placed. A faint scent wafted from the air—something metallic, but layered with a strange, charred undertone. Quinn’s eyes caught a glint of something just beyond their line of sight. She stepped closer and reached out, but her fingers encountered only cool, dust-choked air. Reid brushed past her and pointed to the floor. “Hey, what about this?” She followed his gaze—marked faintly into the dust, a series of jagged grooves. Not footprints. More like claw marks—sharp and irregular, as if something had scraped or dragged itself across the floor. “Claws,” Quinn murmured. “That’s new.” Reid looked skeptical. “You sure? Looks like melting wax or something.” “Wax doesn’t scratch the floor like that.” She crouched, studied the grooves. “Almost like someone— or something— was trying to claw their way out.” The air grew colder, and Quinn’s gaze drifted to the shadows beyond. Something about this scene was... orchestrated. It wasn’t just the absence of signs of violence. It felt like a warning. Her instincts sharpened. “Reid, you remember that report about the Veil Market, right? The one with the bone token?” He nodded. “Yeah. The underground market beneath Camden. Rumour is it moves location every full moon. Used to deal with enchanted objects, banned alchemy, all sorts of shit. You think someone’s getting gear from there?” She shrugged. “Possible. Or maybe they’re hiding something more dangerous than a cursed object. The blood, the claw marks, the silences—they’re telling us this isn’t ordinary.” A sudden rattle echoed from deeper into the station, startling them both. Quinn froze, her hand instinctively reaching for her weapon. She motioned for Reid to stay quiet. Slowly, she moved toward the sound, careful not to disturb the silence. The shadows seemed to pulse with a life of their own—shadows that didn’t quite match the flickering light. In a narrow corridor, she spotted a faint flicker—like something shimmering just out of sight. When she peered around, she saw the faint outline of a brass compass lying half-buried in the dust. Its face, etched with protective sigils, shone from beneath a layer of grime. She reached down and picked it up, noticing how the needle pointed not to a way out, but toward an unseen rift, a portal of sorts. Verdigris patina coated its casing, the face marked with delicate symbols. “Reid,” she called softly. “Look at this.” He hurried over. "What is it?” She held up the compass. “Something here wants to tell us where to look next. Or... what to find.” Reid studied it. “That’s no ordinary compass.” “No,” she agreed, pocketing it carefully. “It’s from the Veil Market. Crafted by a Shade artisan. We’re chasing something deeper. Something bigger.” The station’s silence pressed heavily on them. Quinn’s mind raced through every piece of evidence—the blood, the claw marks, the compass. The pieces fit, but they refused to assemble into a full picture. She looked at Reid, her expression hard. “Let’s find out who’s behind this. Before it’s too late.” Reid nodded, voice steady. “We’re not walking out of here without answers.” The shadows seemed to deepen as they turned to leave, the abandoned station swallowing their figures and the strange, dark secrets they carried.