Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMDSY1PX5J28S7FXDN29GD

The distinctive green neon sign above the entrance flickered as Aurora Carter pushed open the heavy oak door, her bright blue eyes blinking against the dim light. The familiar scents of aged wood and stale beer washed over her, transporting her back to nights spent huddled in a corner booth, pouring her heart out to Silas over cheap whiskey. She scanned the room, taking in the black-and-white photographs and old maps covering the exposed brick walls, until her gaze landed on a figure hunched over the bar, his neat auburn beard catching the glow from the pendant lights overhead. Her breath hitched. Silas. Rory wove through the scattered tables, her footsteps muffled by the sticky floor, until she slid onto the worn leather stool beside him. Up close, she noticed the strands of silver threading through his hair, echoes of the neatly trimmed beard that failed to fully hide the deep lines bracketing his mouth. When had he gotten so old? "It's been a long time, Si," she said softly, the nickname feeling foreign on her tongue after so many years. Up close, she could make out the shape of the silver signet ring he always wore on his right hand where it rested on the bar. He turned to face her, hazel eyes widening in surprise before crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "Rory. Christ, it's good to see you. What brings you back to the Raven?" She shrugged, dropping her gaze to where her slender fingers fiddled with a cocktail napkin. It had always been hard to lie to Silas, especially when those perceptive eyes were fixed on her. "Things got complicated in Cardiff. I needed a fresh start." "'Things', huh?" He chuckled, the sound low and familiar. "And how long are you planning on hiding out here at the bar before facing them again like I taught you?" A wry smile tugged at her lips. "As long as it takes for my past to stop nipping at my heels, old man." Silas signaled the bartender for another drink before turning back to her, his expression sobering. "Listen, kid. You can't outrun your demons forever. At some point, you've gotta turn around and stare them down, or they'll chase you to your grave." Rory nodded, her throat tight. She knew he was right, that the ghosts of her mistakes would forever haunt her until she made amends. But the idea of facing them - facing him - sent a shudder of fear down her spine. Abruptly, Silas stood, wincing slightly as he put weight on his left leg. Of course, the injury that forced him into early retirement. It seemed time had left its mark on both of them. He fished a key out of his pocket and tossed it on the bar between them. "You remember the back room, right? Through the bookshelf. I've got some business to attend to, but the place is yours for the night. Go on, get out of here. Staying in one place too long will only make the running catch up quicker." With a parting squeeze of her shoulder, he limped off toward the secret room, leaving Rory staring after him, the weight of unspoken words and regrets heavy in the air between them. How many nights had they spent trading stories and confessions in this very spot, her head on his shoulder as she spilled her secrets and he absorbed them into his calm silence? Sighing, Rory reached for the key, catching a glimpse of the small crescent-shaped scar on her wrist. She traced it with her thumb, the ghost of a childhood memory flitting through her mind. Perhaps Silas was right. Perhaps it was finally time to stop running and face up to who she was, who she'd become. As she tucked the key into her pocket and stood, resolve straightening her spine, Rory felt a twinge of sadness for the girl she used to be - the girl who had laughed with carefree abandon, who had faced the world with a defiant tilt of her chin. She was long gone now, leaving behind only this shadow of herself, this woman with scars and secrets and a past that wouldn't leave her be. But maybe, just maybe, with Silas' help, she could find her way back to that girl again. Or at least to a version of herself that could look in the mirror without flinching away from her own reflection. It was worth a try, anyway. And so, with one last glance around the bar, at the memories and the might-have-beens that lingered in every corner, Aurora Carter squared her shoulders and went to face down her demons, one scarred piece at a time.