Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7GX992P8B4X7FFC4RZSBH

The air tasted like wet concrete and ozone. Detective Harlow Quinn wrinkled her nose, the scent clinging to the back of her throat even through the N95 mask. Water dripped from the vaulted ceiling of the abandoned tube station, each drop echoing in the cavernous space. The Veil Market hadn’t chosen a charming location for its monthly full moon gathering. Crime scene tape, a garish yellow against the grime-covered walls, cordoned off a small circle of chaos. A body lay sprawled amidst overturned stalls and scattered wares – glittering powders, dried herbs, strange idols carved from obsidian. The victim, a man Quinn didn't recognize, wore the distinctive mark of a Shade artisan – a spiraling tattoo on his left wrist. “Standard robbery gone wrong, wouldn't you say?” Sergeant Davies asked, his voice amplified by the acoustics of the tunnel. He gestured to the scattered merchandise with a gloved hand. “Quick grab, things got heated.” He scrubbed a hand over his closely shaved head. "Looks like he resisted." Quinn ignored him, her gaze sweeping over the scene. The body was positioned oddly, almost theatrically. His limbs were arranged at unnatural angles. It resembled a poorly staged tableau rather than the result of a struggle. She knelt, careful not to disturb anything. The man's eyes were wide, vacant, fixed on a point somewhere beyond the low ceiling. No defensive wounds. Minimal bruising. "Look at this," Davies said, pointing down. A small, intricately carved bone token lay a few feet from the body. The entry requirement for the Veil Market. "Proof he was here legit." Quinn’s eyes narrowed. Something felt…off. Too clean. Too convenient. Davies had leapt to conclusions before. Usually wrong. She ran a gloved finger along the damp concrete floor, noticing something the others had missed. Faint, almost invisible lines – scratches, perhaps? – that led away from the body and towards a side tunnel. "The scratches," she murmured, more to herself than to Davies. "Do we know if anyone has been in there?" Davies glanced toward the tunnel, shrugged. "Search team's already gone through it. Nothing. Just more abandoned tunnels, damp walls, rats." Quinn stood, her gaze fixed on the tunnel entrance. “Rats don’t make precise parallel scratches like these.” She pulled out a small evidence bag and carefully collected the token. "Davies, I want a full forensic sweep of this tunnel. Every inch. And I want someone to check for residual magical traces." Davies scoffed. “Magical traces? Quinn, we’re the Metropolitan Police, not the X-Files.” Quinn’s jaw tightened. She’d heard that tone before – condescending, dismissive. A familiar irritation sparked within her. “Just do it, Sergeant.” Moments later, a frantic voice crackled through her radio. "Detective Quinn, we have a situation. Evie Kowalski requesting immediate assistance." Quinn frowned. Eva. Aurora's childhood friend. She'd briefly met her a few times, a nervous, bookish woman with a strange fascination for the occult. What was she doing here? "Patch her through," Quinn said into her radio. Eva's face appeared on the small screen of her radio, her round glasses slightly askew, her curly red hair a tangled mess. A smear of dirt decorated her freckled complexion. She tugged at her hair behind her left ear, a tell-tale sign of her anxiety. “Detective Quinn, thank goodness! I… I think I’ve found something. Something you need to see.” Her voice trembled slightly. "It's in the restricted archives, at the museum." Quinn glanced at Davies, who was busy barking orders into his own radio. “I’m on my way, Eva. Give me your location.” Leaving Davies to oversee the scene, Quinn headed towards the museum. The night air felt colder outside the tube station, a sharp contrast to the damp warmth underground. She hailed a taxi, giving the driver the museum's address. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Detective,” the taxi driver remarked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. Quinn didn’t reply. She was already replaying the scene at the Veil Market in her mind. The body. The scratches. Eva’s urgent call. It didn't add up. The British Museum loomed before her, an imposing neoclassical structure bathed in the glow of streetlights. She flashed her badge at the security guard and hurried inside, the echoing footsteps bouncing off the marble floors. Eva was waiting for her in the restricted archives, a dimly lit chamber filled with ancient scrolls, dusty tomes, and strange artifacts. The air hung heavy with the scent of aged paper and forgotten secrets. “I found this,” Eva said, pushing a brittle parchment across a table. The parchment depicted a complex diagram, a swirling vortex of lines and sigils. “It’s a ritual. An extraction ritual. Used to… to pull something from another dimension.” Quinn leaned closer, her eyes scanning the diagram. “Extraction… What kind of thing?” Eva hesitated, her voice barely a whisper. “A Shade. A powerful Shade. They’re… they’re creatures of pure shadow, bound to our world by intricate rituals.” “So, someone was trying to bring a Shade into our world?” Quinn questioned. “Not just anyone. According to this, it takes a specific catalyst. A vessel.” Eva pointed to a symbol within the diagram – a stylized representation of a human heart. “And the ritual requires a sacrifice. A conduit to anchor the Shade’s presence. The victim at the Veil Market… he was the conduit.” Quinn considered this, her mind racing. The lack of defensive wounds. The unnatural positioning of the body. The scratches leading away from the body. The Shade wasn’t fighting. It was *leaving*. “The scratches,” Quinn said, realization dawning. “They weren’t made by someone fleeing. They were made by something… *unmooring* itself.” She looked up at Eva, her brown eyes sharp with understanding. “The Shade didn’t kill him. It *used* him.” Eva nodded, her face pale. “It left behind a residue, a trace of its essence. I felt it the moment I walked in here. It’s… unsettling.” Quinn pulled out her worn leather watch, checking the time. The full moon was nearing its zenith. The Veil Market, with its ever-shifting location, was a dangerous place. And now, it seemed, it was a gateway. “Davies is still at the scene,” Quinn said, her voice resolute. “I need him to secure the area. And I need a team to start tracking residual Shade energy. This is bigger than a robbery, Eva. This is something… far more complex.” She paused, her gaze hardening. "Someone orchestrated this. And I intend to find out who." Eva looked at Quinn, a flicker of hope in her green eyes. "I can help. I know these rituals. I can identify patterns, anticipate their movements." Quinn nodded. "Then let's get to work.”