Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQ0AZBVGSP1P94SAYNM0T9

The abandoned Tube station smelled of damp concrete and rust, the kind of scent that clung to the back of your throat like a bad memory. Detective Harlow Quinn stepped over the police tape, her boots scuffing against the cracked tiles of what had once been Camden Town station. The overhead lights flickered, casting long shadows that stretched and twisted across the graffiti-scarred walls. Her leather watch creaked as she adjusted it, the second hand ticking with the same relentless precision she applied to every case. "Quinn, over here." The voice belonged to DS Carter, a broad-shouldered man with a face that had seen too many late nights and too little sleep. He stood near the edge of the platform, his torch beam cutting through the gloom to illuminate a body sprawled across the tracks. The victim was young, early twenties at most, his dark hair matted with blood. His limbs were splayed at unnatural angles, like a discarded marionette. Quinn crouched beside the body, her sharp jaw tightening as she took in the details. The victim’s clothes were torn, the fabric stiff with dried blood, but there were no defensive wounds on his hands. No signs of a struggle. She reached out, her gloved fingers brushing against the cold skin of his wrist. No pulse, of course, but something else caught her attention—a faint, almost imperceptible tremor beneath her fingertips. "Time of death?" she asked, her voice low. Carter consulted his notes. "ME puts it at around three this morning. No ID on him yet, but we’re running prints." Quinn nodded, her gaze drifting to the victim’s face. His eyes were open, wide and unblinking, the pupils dilated despite the harsh light. She leaned in closer, her breath fogging the air between them. There, just beneath the surface, was something else—something that didn’t belong. A faint, shimmering residue clung to his skin, like oil on water. "Carter," she said slowly, "did you notice this?" He frowned, stepping closer. "Notice what?" She pointed to the residue. "This. It’s all over him." Carter squinted, then shook his head. "I don’t see anything, Quinn. Just blood." Quinn exhaled sharply, her military precision kicking in as she forced herself to focus. She pulled a small evidence bag from her pocket and carefully scraped a sample of the residue into it. The substance clung to the plastic, swirling like smoke trapped in a bottle. "Get this to the lab," she said, sealing the bag. "Tell them to run it for anything unusual. Metals, chemicals, anything that doesn’t belong in a human body." Carter hesitated. "You think this is something more than a mugging gone wrong?" Quinn stood, her knees popping as she straightened. "I think this doesn’t add up. No defensive wounds, no signs of a struggle, and this residue—whatever it is—doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen before." Carter rubbed the back of his neck, his expression skeptical. "Maybe he was high. Some new designer drug, maybe. Or maybe he just fell." Quinn shot him a look. "Fell? From where? There’s no platform above us, no scaffolding. And even if he did, where’s the impact damage? His skull isn’t fractured, his ribs aren’t broken. He looks like he just... collapsed." Carter opened his mouth to argue, but Quinn cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Just get the sample to the lab. And check the CCTV—if there’s any footage of him coming in here, I want to see it." Carter sighed but nodded, pulling out his radio. Quinn turned back to the body, her mind racing. There was something familiar about this, something that scratched at the edges of her memory. She’d seen cases like this before—cases that didn’t fit, that defied explanation. Cases that had cost her partner his life. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small brass compass, its casing etched with strange, looping sigils. The needle spun wildly for a moment before settling, pointing toward the far end of the platform. Quinn frowned. The compass wasn’t hers—it had been Morris’s, left behind in his desk after he’d vanished. She’d kept it, though she didn’t know why. It had never worked before. Not like this. She followed the needle’s direction, her boots echoing against the concrete as she moved deeper into the station. The air grew colder, the shadows thicker. The compass led her to a section of the wall where the tiles were cracked, the grout crumbling. She pressed her palm against the surface, feeling the faintest vibration beneath her fingers. "Quinn!" Carter’s voice cut through the silence. She turned to see him jogging toward her, his expression grim. "We’ve got a problem. The CCTV—it’s all static. Nothing useful." Quinn’s stomach twisted. "What about the sample?" Carter hesitated. "The lab says it’s not registering as anything they recognize. No matches in the system." Quinn exhaled sharply, her grip tightening around the compass. The needle was still pointing at the wall, its movement growing more insistent. She knew what this meant. She’d seen it before, in the weeks leading up to Morris’s disappearance. The residue, the static, the way the evidence just... vanished. She turned back to the wall, her fingers tracing the cracks. There was something here. Something hidden. "Quinn, what the hell is going on?" Carter’s voice was tight with frustration. She didn’t answer. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, curved bone token—another relic from Morris’s desk. She pressed it against the wall, and the moment it made contact, the tiles shimmered, dissolving like mist. A narrow passage opened before her, the air beyond thick with the scent of old magic and older secrets. Carter swore under his breath. "What the—?" Quinn stepped forward, the compass burning in her hand. The needle was spinning wildly now, pointing deeper into the darkness. She knew where this led. She’d been here before, in her nightmares. The Veil Market. She turned back to Carter, her expression grim. "Call for backup. And whatever you do, don’t follow me in there." Before he could respond, she stepped through the rift, the wall sealing itself behind her. The last thing she heard was Carter’s voice, muffled and distant, shouting her name. The market stretched out before her, a labyrinth of stalls and shadows, the air humming with the low murmur of hushed deals and whispered secrets. Quinn’s grip tightened around the compass. She was close now. Too close. And whatever was waiting for her in the dark, she knew it wasn’t human.