Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQJTB8CCXEQ6C0YC1V2QFP

The abandoned Tube station reeked of damp concrete and rust. Quinn stepped over the police tape, her boots clicking against the cracked tiles. The beam of her torch cut through the gloom, illuminating the graffiti-scarred walls of the old Camden platform. A uniformed officer nodded at her from beside the body. "Detective Quinn. Down here." She adjusted the worn leather strap of her watch, the second hand ticking in time with her pulse. The victim lay sprawled near the edge of the platform, one arm twisted beneath him, the other flung out as if reaching for something. His face was frozen in a rictus of surprise, eyes wide and unblinking. A pool of dark liquid spread beneath his head, glistening under the harsh light. "Who found him?" Quinn crouched beside the body, her sharp jaw tightening as she took in the details. "Night watchman. Heard a noise, came down to check. Found him like this." The officer shifted his weight, his radio crackling with static. "Called it in straight away." Quinn's fingers hovered over the victim's jacket. No wallet, no phone. Just a single bone token on a leather cord around his neck. She plucked it between gloved fingers, turning it over. The edges were rough, carved with symbols she didn't recognize. "Odd place for a mugging," she muttered. "Maybe he was meeting someone. Wrong place, wrong time." The officer shrugged. "Happens." Quinn stood, her gaze sweeping the platform. The walls were covered in layers of tags, but one stood out—a fresh sigil painted in what looked like blood. It pulsed faintly under her torchlight, the edges shimmering like heat haze. "Did you see that?" She pointed. The officer squinted. "See what?" The sigil flickered again, then vanished. Quinn exhaled through her nose. "Never mind." She moved to the edge of the platform, shining her torch down the dark tunnel. The tracks disappeared into blackness, but something glinted in the distance. A small, brass object half-buried in the gravel. "Stay here," she ordered, swinging herself down onto the tracks. The gravel crunched under her boots as she approached. The object was a compass, its casing etched with strange markings. She picked it up, brushing off the dirt. The needle spun wildly before settling, pointing straight at the wall. Quinn frowned. She turned the compass over. The back was warm to the touch, almost humming. "Detective?" She looked up. The officer was watching her from the platform, his expression puzzled. "Get forensics down here. And tell them to bring a UV light." --- The station buzzed with activity by the time Eva arrived. She stepped carefully over the police tape, her round glasses fogging in the damp air. Her satchel thumped against her hip as she adjusted the strap, her freckled fingers tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "Quinn. You called?" Quinn turned, the compass still in her hand. "You're late." "Traffic." Eva's gaze flicked to the body, then away. "What've you got?" Quinn held up the compass. "Found this near the tracks. It's not standard issue." Eva took it, her fingers tracing the sigils. "This isn't just a compass. It's a Veil Compass. Points to supernatural rifts." Quinn's eyes narrowed. "You're telling me this thing is magic?" "Not magic. Just... attuned." Eva turned it over, her thumb brushing the verdigris patina. "Someone's been using it to navigate the Veil Market." Quinn crossed her arms. "The what now?" Eva hesitated. "It's an underground market. Moves every full moon. Sells things that aren't exactly... legal." Quinn's jaw tightened. "And you know this how?" Eva's cheeks flushed. "Research. The British Museum has records. Restricted archives." Quinn exhaled sharply. "So our victim was into some shady supernatural black market, and now he's dead in an abandoned Tube station. That about sum it up?" Eva nodded. "The bone token around his neck is the entry requirement. You can't get in without one." Quinn turned back to the body. The UV light had revealed more sigils on the platform, glowing faintly under the blacklight. "And the symbols?" "Warding. Protection against... things that shouldn't be here." Eva adjusted her glasses. "Someone didn't want whatever they were doing to be seen." Quinn crouched beside the body again. The victim's fingers were curled into the gravel, as if he'd been dragged. She pried them open. A scrap of paper was clutched in his palm, the edges singed. She unfolded it carefully. A single word was scrawled in smudged ink: *Shade*. Eva leaned in. "That's not good." Quinn stood, her mind racing. "What's a Shade?" Eva's voice dropped. "Something that doesn't belong in this world. They craft things. Dangerous things." Quinn's watch ticked loudly in the silence. She looked at the compass, then at the body. The pieces weren't adding up. "Alright. Let's say I believe you. Why kill him here? Why not just take him out somewhere quiet?" Eva's gaze flicked to the tunnel. "Because this isn't just a murder. It's a message." Quinn followed her gaze. The compass in her hand pulsed once, the needle trembling. Then the lights went out.