Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY99DFWGGN3C6X2J0565369

The air in the abandoned Tube station was thick with the scent of damp stone and something older—something that clung to the walls like a second skin. Detective Harlow Quinn adjusted the strap of her leather satchel, her fingers brushing the worn leather watch on her wrist. The station’s flickering fluorescent lights cast long, jagged shadows across the concrete floor, where the remnants of a crime scene stretched out like a half-finished puzzle. She stepped over the tape, her boots crunching on broken glass. The body lay sprawled in the center of the alcove, its face twisted in a rictus of pain, but the wounds were familiar—too precise, too surgical. The coroner’s report would call it a homicide, but Quinn had seen worse. This wasn’t just a knife wound. The edges of the cut were too clean, too *wrong*. The skin around it was bruised, but not from impact. It was as if something had *pulled* at it. “Detective Quinn,” a voice cut through the silence. She turned to see DS Morris, her partner from three years ago, standing just beyond the perimeter. His face was pale, his jaw set in that way Quinn knew so well—he was either about to argue or about to agree with her. “You’re early.” Quinn didn’t answer. She knelt beside the body, her fingers tracing the line of the wound. The needle of the Veil Compass she’d pulled from her satchel hummed faintly against her palm. The needle didn’t point north. It didn’t point east. It pointed *down*, toward the floor, where the air seemed to thicken, pressing against her skin like a second breath. “You’re not supposed to be here,” Morris said, his voice low. “The Veil Market’s not for the likes of us.” Quinn didn’t look up. “It’s a crime scene.” “And you’re the only one who can see what’s really going on.” He stepped closer, his breath warm against her ear. “You know what this is.” She exhaled through her nose. “A murder. With supernatural elements.” Morris’s fingers brushed hers, just for a second, before he pulled back. “Not just any supernatural elements. Something’s *feeding* on this place.” Quinn’s gaze flicked to the body again. The wound wasn’t just a cut. It was a *tear*. Something had ripped through the flesh, not with a blade, but with something that left no blood. No *clot*. Just a clean, gaping hole. “You’re saying it’s not a human killer,” Quinn said. Morris’s jaw tightened. “I’m saying it’s not just a killer.” A noise from the shadows made them both freeze. Quinn’s hand instinctively went to the Veil Compass, the brass casing cold against her palm. The needle didn’t move. It stayed pointed down, as if the rift beneath them was waiting. Then the lights flickered. Not just dimmed. *Flickered*. Like something was pulling at the power grid, like the station itself was breathing. Morris’s voice was a whisper. “Eva’s here.” Quinn’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t expected Eva Kowalski to be involved, but then again, neither had she expected this. The Veil Market wasn’t just a place for black-market deals. It was a place where the veil between worlds thinned, and things that shouldn’t see daylight walked among mortals. She stood, her boots echoing against the concrete. “We need to move.” Morris followed her lead, his steps quick. “You’re not taking me with you.” “You’re not leaving me alone with this.” The shadows deepened. The air hummed, vibrating against Quinn’s bones. Then, from the darkness, a voice—soft, almost musical—whispered: *“You should have stayed away.”* Quinn’s blood turned to ice. She didn’t recognize the voice. But she knew the tone. The way it slithered into the back of your mind, just before something *else* took over. The Veil Compass’s needle twitched. Not toward the floor. Toward the ceiling. And then, from above, the station groaned. The ceiling tiles shifted, as if something was trying to climb down. Quinn’s pulse roared in her ears. Morris grabbed her arm, his grip iron. “Run,” he hissed. They didn’t have to be told twice. The station erupted. The Veil Market’s entrance was a rift in reality, a doorway that shouldn’t exist. Quinn and Morris stumbled through it, the air around them warping like liquid fire. The Veil Compass’s needle spun wildly, pointing in every direction at once. “Eva!” Quinn shouted, her voice echoing through the shifting space. “Where are you?” A figure emerged from the darkness—a woman with curly red hair and round glasses, her satchel slung over one shoulder. She looked like a scholar, but her eyes were hollow, her skin too pale, too *wrong*. “You shouldn’t have come,” Eva said, her voice dripping with something that wasn’t quite fear. “This isn’t for you.” Quinn’s fingers tightened around the Veil Compass. “What is this place?” Eva’s gaze flicked to the body. The wound was still there, still *wrong*. “A place where the dead don’t stay dead.” Morris lunged, grabbing Eva’s arm. “What do you mean?” Eva’s smile was a knife twist. “You know what I mean. The Veil Market doesn’t just sell things. It *collects* them.” Quinn’s mind raced. The coroner’s report. The clean wounds. The way the air had thickened beneath the body. Something was feeding on this place. Something that didn’t belong in the mortal realm. And it was hungry. The Veil Compass’s needle finally settled, pointing toward the body. Not down. Not up. *At* the body. Eva’s eyes widened. “You have to stop it.” Quinn didn’t hesitate. She pulled the Veil Compass from her satchel, the brass casing cold against her palm. “We’re taking this down.” Morris grabbed her wrist. “No. We’re taking it *elsewhere*.” Quinn’s jaw clenched. “Not until we know what’s really happening.” Eva’s voice was a whisper. “Then you’ll all die here.” The station erupted again. This time, the rift didn’t just open. It *screamed*. The air around them twisted, and Quinn felt something pull at her, something that wasn’t quite a hand, not quite a shadow. It wrapped around her ankle, and she stumbled back, the Veil Compass clattering to the ground. Morris was already moving, his boots pounding against the shifting floor. “Run!” Quinn didn’t have time to think. She grabbed the Veil Compass, her fingers brushing the sigils etched into the brass casing. The needle spun, pointing not at the body, but at something else—something that pulsed in the darkness, something that wasn’t just a rift, but a *door*. And then the station was gone. They were back in the abandoned Tube station, but it wasn’t the same. The air was cleaner, the shadows sharper. The body was still there, but something was different. The wound had closed. The skin was smooth, unmarred. Quinn exhaled, her breath steadying. Morris was beside her, his face pale but his eyes sharp. “What the hell was that?” Quinn looked at the Veil Compass. The needle was still pointing down, toward the floor. But this time, it wasn’t just a compass. It was a key. She picked it up, her fingers brushing the sigils. “We need to find out what’s really happening here.” Morris’s voice was a growl. “And how do we do that?” Quinn’s gaze flicked to the body again. The wound was gone. But the air still hummed, vibrating against her skin. Something was still here. Something that shouldn’t be. She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. “We call for backup.” But before she could press the button, the station erupted again. This time, the rift wasn’t just a doorway. It was a *mouth*. And it was hungry.