Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRMN91VADMJMQ43S5KSVDD

The abandoned Tube station reeked of damp stone and something older, something that clung to the air like the scent of rusted iron. Detective Harlow Quinn stepped over the cracked tiles, her boots crunching on broken glass. The flickering fluorescents above buzzed weakly, their light casting long, jagged shadows across the walls. She’d been here before—once, twice—always with the same hollow feeling settling in her gut. “You’re late,” DS Carter muttered from where he leaned against a rusted escalator. His tie hung loose, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Thought you’d forgotten.” Harlow didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The body was the same as the reports described—a woman, face down in a puddle of something dark and glistening. Not blood. Not quite. The air around her was wrong, thick with the stench of old magic. Carter followed her gaze. “Yeah, that’s her. Name’s Lila Vex. Worked at the museum. Said she was researching something ‘unsettling’ before she vanished.” Harlow crouched, fingers brushing the woman’s wrist. No pulse. No breath. Just cold, dead flesh. She turned the body slightly, revealing the back of Lila’s neck. A jagged mark, too precise to be a scratch. A symbol, etched in something that looked like dried blood—or something darker. “You see this?” Harlow asked, voice low. Carter crouched beside her, squinting. “What, the mark?” “No. The *way* it’s done.” She traced the edges with her thumb. “No pressure. No drag. Like it was stamped, not carved.” Carter exhaled through his nose. “Could’ve been a knife. Sharp one.” “Sharp enough to leave no drag?” Harlow stood, brushing dirt from her knees. “And look at her hands.” She pointed to Lila’s fingers, curled as if she’d been trying to grip something just before she died. “No defensive wounds. No struggle marks. She didn’t fight.” Carter frowned. “So what, she just… let it happen?” “Or she didn’t see it coming.” Harlow’s gaze flicked to the far corner of the station, where the walls seemed to pulse faintly, like veins under skin. “You feel that?” Carter hesitated. “Feel what?” “The air.” Harlow stepped closer to the wall, pressing her palm against the cold stone. “It’s *wrong*. Like the room’s holding its breath.” Carter didn’t move. “You’re talking like this is supernatural.” “Am I?” Harlow turned, her sharp jaw set. “Or am I just saying what the evidence suggests?” Carter opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t have an answer. Harlow’s eyes darted to the ceiling, where the fluorescents flickered again. A shadow moved—just for a second—before the light steadied. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Carter cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s take notes. What do we know?” Harlow didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked to the far end of the station, where the tracks curved into darkness. The air here was thicker, heavier. She crouched, running her fingers along the edge of a rusted platform. Something glinted beneath her touch—a small brass object, half-buried in the grime. She pulled it free. The Veil Compass. Carter’s voice cut through the silence. “What the hell is *that*?” Harlow didn’t look up. “That, Detective, is a problem.” Carter stepped closer, squinting at the compass. The needle didn’t point north. It didn’t point anywhere. It just… *hung*, as if waiting for something. “Where’d you find it?” Carter asked. “Under her.” Harlow stood, holding the compass out between them. “In her hand.” Carter’s expression darkened. “You’re saying she brought it here?” “Or it brought her.” Harlow’s voice was quiet, deadly. “And now we need to find out who else she was looking for.” Carter exhaled sharply. “You think this is connected to the museum?” Harlow didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The way the air hummed, the way the shadows moved—it wasn’t just a crime scene. It was a warning. And she wasn’t going to ignore it.