Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTY36Z4JW9MVZT4KD1221B8

The abandoned Tube station beneath Camden was a labyrinth of rusted tracks and shattered tiles, the air thick with the scent of mildew and something metallic Detective Harlow Quinn couldn’t quite place. Her boots echoed against the cracked concrete as she approached the yellow tape cordoning off the scene. The flickering light from a malfunctioning bulb overhead cast long shadows across the platform, distorting the faces of the forensic team already at work. A uniformed officer stepped forward, his voice strained. “Detective Quinn, over here.” She nodded, her sharp jawline set in a tight line, and followed him past the tape. The body lay sprawled on the edge of the platform, a man in his thirties wearing a trench coat that had seen better days. His face was pale, almost translucent, and his eyes were wide open, frozen in a look of sheer terror. Quinn crouched beside the body, her brown eyes scanning the scene with military precision. She noted the position of the hands, the posture, the lack of visible wounds. Her fingers brushed against his coat pocket, feeling something hard and flat inside. She pulled it out—a small brass compass, its casing etched with protective sigils and coated in a patina of verdigris. The needle trembled faintly, pointing toward the shadows beyond the platform. “What’s this?” she muttered, turning it over in her hands. A familiar voice cut through the hum of forensic chatter. “A Veil Compass. Rare piece.” Quinn glanced up to see Eva Kowalski stepping forward, her curly red hair tucked behind her left ear and her worn leather satchel slung over one shoulder. Round glasses perched on her freckled nose, she adjusted them as she crouched beside Quinn. “What are you doing here?” Quinn’s tone was clipped, her suspicion evident. “I was called in.” Eva’s green eyes flicked toward the body. “The forensics team wanted an expert opinion. Given the... unusual circumstances.” Quinn’s brow furrowed. She stood, her worn leather watch catching the dim light as she gestured toward the body. “Unusual how? His ID says he’s a Nathaniel Graves, freelance journalist. No signs of struggle, no wounds, no obvious cause of death.” Eva leaned closer, her fingers brushing against the man’s coat. “Look at his shoes.” Quinn’s gaze dropped. The soles were scuffed, almost melted, and there was a faint smell of sulfur. “And this.” Eva reached into her satchel and pulled out a notebook, flipping to a page filled with etched symbols. She held it up next to the markings on the compass. “These sigils—they’re protective charms. Designed to ward off entities from the Veil.” Quinn frowned. “The Veil?” Eva tucked her hair behind her ear again, a nervous habit Quinn had noticed. “A term used in occult circles to describe the barrier between our world and the supernatural. The Veil Market”—she gestured around them—“exists in the spaces where that barrier is thin.” Quinn glanced back at the compass, its needle still trembling. “So this points to supernatural rifts or portals?” Eva nodded. “Exactly. And if he had one on him, it means he was investigating something... otherworldly.” Quinn’s jaw tightened. “And you think that’s what killed him?” Eva’s expression was somber. “Possibly. The burns on his shoes suggest he encountered something he wasn’t prepared for. Something from the other side.” Quinn sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “You know how this sounds, right? ‘Otherworldly entities’? ‘Supernatural rifts’? That’s not exactly standard procedure.” Eva straightened, her satchel shifting against her hip. “Detective, I know it’s outside your usual scope. But I’ve seen things like this before. The archives at the British Museum—they’re full of accounts people would dismiss as fiction. But they’re real.” Quinn’s gaze hardened. “Real or not, I need evidence. Something concrete.” Eva hesitated, then reached into her satchel again. She pulled out a small vial filled with a shimmering silver liquid. “This is lunar mercury. It reacts to supernatural energy.” She uncorked the vial and dipped a dropper into it, then carefully let a drop fall onto the compass. The liquid hissed as it touched the brass, spreading out in intricate patterns that matched the sigils etched into its face. The needle suddenly spun wildly before pointing sharply toward a dark alcove further down the platform. Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell was that?” Eva corked the vial, her hands steady despite the tension in her voice. “It’s proof. Something supernatural happened here. And whatever it was, it’s still close.” Quinn glanced toward the alcove, her hand instinctively moving to her sidearm. “If you’re right...” Eva interrupted. “I know you don’t trust me. But this isn’t just about solving a case. It’s about protecting people from things they don’t understand. Things that could kill them.” Quinn’s gaze flicked back to the body, then to the compass still trembling in her hand. “Fine. But if this turns out to be some elaborate hoax, you’re out of here.” Eva nodded, her glasses reflecting the flickering light. “Fair enough.” Quinn stepped toward the alcove, her boots crunching against the debris-strewn floor. The shadows seemed to deepen as she approached, the air growing colder. She raised her flashlight, the beam cutting through the darkness to reveal a jagged crack in the wall, its edges glowing faintly with an eerie green light. Eva was right beside her, her voice barely above a whisper. “A rift. This is where it happened.” Quinn’s grip tightened on her flashlight. “And what exactly is on the other side?” Eva hesitated, her freckled face pale in the glow. “Nothing good.” Quinn glanced back at the compass, the needle now pointing directly at the crack. She took a deep breath, her military training kicking in. “You’re staying out here.” Eva’s eyes widened. “Detective, you can’t—” “I’m not arguing.” Quinn’s tone left no room for debate. She holstered her flashlight and pulled out a pair of gloves, snapping them on with practiced efficiency. “If there’s something dangerous in there, I can handle it.” Eva’s hand twitched toward her satchel. “At least take this.” She handed Quinn a small pouch filled with white powder. “Salt infused with iron. It disrupts supernatural energy.” Quinn took it reluctantly, slipping it into her pocket. “Fine. But stay back.” She stepped forward, her boots silent against the floor. The crack in the wall seemed to pulse as she approached, the green light growing brighter. She paused, her instincts screaming at her to turn back, but she pushed forward, her hand resting on her sidearm. The moment she crossed the threshold, the world shifted. The air was thick, heavy, and smelled of rot and ash. The tunnel beyond was twisted, its walls covered in pulsating veins of light. Shadows moved in the corners of her vision, darting just out of reach. Quinn’s heart pounded, but she forced herself to focus. She pulled out the compass, its needle spinning wildly before settling on a direction deeper into the tunnel. “Alright,” she muttered under her breath. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.” She moved carefully, her flashlight cutting through the oppressive darkness. The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever, the air growing colder with every step. And then she saw it. A figure stood at the end of the tunnel, its silhouette distorted and shifting. It turned slowly, its eyes glowing with a sickly green light. Quinn’s hand instinctively went to her sidearm, but she hesitated. The compass in her other hand was vibrating violently now, the needle spinning out of control. The figure tilted its head, its voice a low, grating whisper. “You should not be here.” Quinn’s grip tightened on her gun. “And you shouldn’t be messing with people in my city.” The figure chuckled, a sound that sent chills down her spine. “Your city? This is a place beyond your comprehension.” Quinn stepped forward, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her. “Maybe. But I’m not leaving until I get some answers.” The figure moved then, faster than Quinn could react. It was on her in an instant, its cold hands wrapping around her throat. She gasped, struggling to breathe as her vision blurred. And then she heard Eva’s voice, distant but clear. “Detective! Throw the salt!” Quinn’s fingers fumbled for the pouch in her pocket. She pulled it out and threw it toward the figure, the powder exploding in a burst of white light. The figure recoiled, its grip loosening as it hissed in pain. Quinn stumbled back, coughing as she raised her gun. But the figure was gone, vanished into the shadows. Eva appeared beside her, her face pale but determined. “Are you okay?” Quinn nodded, her breathing ragged. “What the hell was that?” Eva’s expression was grim. “A shade. They’re drawn to rifts like this. They feed on fear.” Quinn holstered her gun, her hands shaking slightly. “And you just let me walk into that?” Eva’s gaze was steady. “You wouldn’t have believed me if I told you. Sometimes you have to see it for yourself.” Quinn looked back at the tunnel, the green light fading as the rift began to close. She exhaled slowly, her mind racing. “Alright. Let’s pull together everything we’ve got. And Eva?” “Yes?” “Next time, lead with the part about the feeding on fear.” Eva’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Noted.” Quinn turned back toward the rift, her sharp jawline set in determination. “Now let’s figure out how to stop this from happening again.”