Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTX84HQS6W4T8Q504H9S3MG

The flickering fluorescent lights of the abandoned Camden Tube station cast eerie shadows across the cracked tiles and rusted tracks. Detective Harlow Quinn stepped carefully over the yellow police tape, her worn leather shoes making soft scuffing sounds on the grimy platform. The air hung heavy with the stench of decay and something else - something coppery and acrid that made her nose wrinkle. "Detective Quinn," called a young officer, his face pale in the dim light. "We've got... well, you better see for yourself." She followed him down the platform, past scattered evidence markers and camera flashes, to where the body lay sprawled across the tracks. A young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties, with curly red hair fanned out around her head like a halo. Her green eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling, round glasses askew on her freckled face. Quinn crouched beside the body, her sharp jawline set in a grim line. She noted the worn leather satchel nearby, its contents - books, papers, an old-fashioned compass - scattered across the tracks. The girl's left hand was tucked beneath her, as if she'd been tucking hair behind her ear even in death. "Single stab wound to the chest," the officer said, gesturing to the dark stain spreading across the front of the victim's blouse. "Looks like she bled out pretty quick." Quinn's brow furrowed. Something didn't sit right with her. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and carefully examined the body, noting the lack of defensive wounds, the neat, precise nature of the wound itself. This wasn't a random attack - it was methodical, almost surgical. She stood, brushing dust from her trousers, and surveyed the scene. The station was a mess - debris everywhere, graffiti covering the walls, but there was an odd sense of order to the chaos. As if someone had gone to great lengths to make this look like a random mugging gone wrong. "Detective Quinn?" A voice called from the shadows. "I'm DS Morris, from the Camden division. I was first on scene." Quinn turned to face her colleague, taking in his nervous demeanor, the way his eyes kept darting around as if searching for something unseen. She'd heard whispers about Morris - how his last partner had disappeared under mysterious circumstances three years ago. Unexplained circumstances that had supernatural origins, if the rumors were to be believed. "What's your take on this?" she asked, nodding towards the body. Morris swallowed hard, his gaze flicking to the compass lying near the victim's hand. "Looks like a robbery gone bad. Girl was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time." Quinn shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. Look at the wound - it's too precise, too clean. And why leave the bag? A mugger would have taken it, valuables and all." She picked up the compass, turning it over in her gloved hands. The brass casing was etched with strange symbols, a patina of verdigris covering its surface. As she watched, the needle twitched, pointing not north, but towards a dark alcove at the end of the platform. "Interesting," Quinn murmured. She stood, pocketing the compass. "I think we're dealing with something far more complex than a simple robbery." Morris looked at her skeptically. "What are you suggesting?" Quinn met his gaze steadily. "I'm suggesting that this young woman knew something she shouldn't have. Something dangerous enough to get her killed." She turned back to the body, her mind racing. The girl's appearance - the red hair, the glasses, the books in her bag - it all seemed familiar somehow. Like a piece of a puzzle she couldn't quite place. "We need to find out who she was," Quinn said, pulling out her phone. "And more importantly, what she was doing in a place like this." As she snapped photos of the scene, her eyes kept returning to the compass in her pocket. It felt warm against her thigh, as if it were alive, eager to lead her somewhere. Somewhere dangerous. Quinn knew she was treading on thin ice, delving into a world of supernatural crime that most of her colleagues wouldn't believe existed. But she also knew that sometimes, the truth lay in the shadows, in the places others feared to look. And she was about to shine a light into those shadows, whether the world was ready for what she might find or not.