Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7P87B5D8YKQ9MMA3C8726

The abandoned Tube station was supposed to be off-limits. That was the official line, anyway—the kind of bureaucratic nonsense that made Quinn’s teeth grind. But here she stood, boots crunching over broken glass and the skeletal remains of a collapsed ticket barrier, her breath fogging in the cold air that smelled of damp stone and something older, something *wrong*. Eva Kowalski was already there, her round glasses reflecting the dim glow of her phone’s flashlight. She didn’t look up as Quinn stepped over the threshold, her satchel slung over one shoulder, her curly red hair tucked behind her ear in that nervous habit Quinn had come to recognize. “Took you long enough,” Eva muttered, her voice tight. “Thought you’d get lost in the paperwork again.” Quinn didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The scene before her was impossible to ignore. The walls of the station were lined with the remnants of a makeshift barrier—charred wood, rusted nails, and something that looked like old rope, though it wasn’t quite right. Too thick. Too *wrong*. And in the center of it all, half-buried in the rubble, was a body. A man. Or what had once been a man. His skin was pale, almost translucent, stretched too tight over his bones. His face was frozen in a rictus of terror, his mouth open in a silent scream. But it wasn’t the body that had Quinn’s stomach twisting. It was the way he was *positioned*. As if he’d been thrown against the wall—not killed by a single blow, but *hurled*, like a ragdoll. And the blood. There was too much of it. Too *dark*. Eva followed her gaze. “Yeah. Not a pretty sight.” She adjusted her glasses, her fingers trembling just slightly. “But you know what this is, right? Another one of those supernatural freak accidents. The kind that happens when the Veil gets too thin.” Quinn crouched beside the body, her gloved fingers brushing against the cold metal of the man’s watch—a cheap, mass-produced thing, the kind you’d find in any pawn shop. But the way it lay, the way the face was cracked, suggested something more. “This isn’t an accident,” she said, her voice low. “And it’s not supernatural.” Eva exhaled sharply. “You’re wrong. You always are.” Quinn ignored her. She turned her attention to the ground, where the first drops of blood had pooled into the cracks of the concrete. It wasn’t red. It was black, thick and viscous, like oil. And it wasn’t drying. It was *spreading*, seeping into the stone as if the very ground was drinking it in. She pulled out her notebook, her pen scratching against the paper. “Who called this in?” “Some guy from the Museum. Said he recognized the watch. Said the victim was one of his colleagues.” Eva’s voice was flat, but Quinn could hear the undercurrent of fear. “He didn’t want his name on the report.” Quinn didn’t look up. “Why not?” “Because he’s not the only one who’s seen this kind of thing.” Eva’s fingers dug into the straps of her satchel. “Because the Veil Market’s been moving. And it’s not just moving. It’s *expanding*.” Quinn finally looked at her, her sharp jaw set. “What do you mean?” Eva hesitated. “The last time I was there, the entrance was in some abandoned warehouse. Now it’s here. And it’s not just the location. The *feel* of it is different. Like it’s… hungry.” Quinn stood, brushing the dust from her knees. “And you think this is connected.” “Of course I do.” Eva’s voice was sharp now, defensive. “You think I’d come here if I didn’t?” Quinn didn’t answer. She walked over to the body, her boots crunching over the glass and debris. She crouched again, this time closer to the man’s face. His eyes were open, glassy, staring up at nothing. But it wasn’t just the lack of life that was unnatural. It was the way his pupils were *dilated*, not from fear, but from something else. Something that made them look like they were filled with ink. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Veil Compass, the small brass casing warm against her palm. The needle spun wildly, as if caught in a storm, before finally settling on something just beyond the edge of her vision. She turned, following the direction the compass was pointing. And there it was. A rift. Not the kind you’d see in the movies—no swirling colors, no screaming monsters. Just a *gap*. A tear in the fabric of the world, thin enough to see through, but thick enough to feel. It pulsed, like a living thing, and the air around it was thick with the scent of ozone and something metallic, like blood. Quinn’s breath caught. “What the hell is that?” Eva didn’t answer. She was staring at the rift too, her face pale. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Quinn turned back to the body. She reached out, her fingers hovering just above the man’s chest. The blood was still spreading, still *moving*, as if it had a mind of its own. She pressed her palm to the ground beside him, feeling the warmth of the blood seeping into the stone. And then she saw it. A *pattern*. A series of symbols, etched into the concrete in the blood. They were old, older than anything she’d ever seen before, older than the city itself. And they were *complete*. She pulled her hand back, her fingers coming away dark. “This wasn’t an accident,” she said, her voice steady now, her mind racing. “This was a *sacrifice*.” Eva’s breath hitched. “What?” Quinn turned to her, her eyes locked onto the rift. “This man wasn’t killed by some supernatural freak show. He was *used*. And whatever’s on the other side of that rift… it’s not done with him yet.” Eva’s hands were shaking. “You think it’s still here.” Quinn didn’t answer. She was already moving, her boots crunching over the glass and debris, her eyes locked on the rift. She pulled the Veil Compass from her pocket, the needle spinning wildly again, before finally settling on something just beyond the edge of her vision. And then she saw it. A *shadow*. Not the kind you’d see in the dark. Not the kind that moved with the light. This was something else. Something that *pulsed*, like a heartbeat, and it was *hungry*. Quinn’s breath caught. “Eva.” Eva didn’t answer. She was staring at the shadow too, her face pale. “What is it?” Quinn didn’t have time to answer. The shadow *moved*, shifting, changing, becoming something else. Something *wrong*. And then it spoke. A voice, low and guttural, like it was coming from the depths of the earth itself. “Detective Quinn.” Quinn’s blood ran cold. She turned to Eva, her eyes wide. “Run.” Eva didn’t need to be told twice. She turned and ran, her boots pounding against the concrete, her satchel slamming against her legs. Quinn didn’t move. She stood there, her eyes locked on the shadow, her fingers tightening around the Veil Compass. And then the rift *ripped*. A wave of darkness crashed over her, swallowing her whole.