Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPFT02072J4A799C72GXP6

The doorbell echoed through the cluttered flat, a shrill interruption to the symphony of rustling pages and Ptolemy's contented purring. Aurora, buried under a mountain of research notes, didn't stir immediately. She was used to the occasional late-night visitor; Silas from downstairs often forgot his keys. But this was no timid knock, no hesitant press of the bell. This was insistent, purposeful. She pushed her glasses up her nose, marking her place with a finger before rising. Her heart pounded in her chest, a traitorous rhythm that betrayed her calm demeanor. She knew who it was before she even reached the door. Only one person knocked like that, like they owned the very air around them. Aurora took a deep breath, steeling herself as she turned the three heavy bolts. The door creaked open to reveal Lucien Moreau, standing tall and impeccable in his tailored charcoal suit. His heterochromatic eyes, one amber, one black, bored into hers, as cool and unreadable as ever. Yet, there was a tension in his shoulders, a tightness around his mouth that spoke of more than just the polite smile he offered. "Lucien," she acknowledged, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "What brings you to my door at this hour?" He held up a bottle of wine, a peace offering. "I thought we might catch up, Rory. It's been a while." Aurora raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. "A while? It's been two years, Lucien. And you didn't exactly leave on the best terms." Lucien's gaze flickered to the scar on her wrist, visible beneath her rolled-up sleeve. His jaw tightened, but he didn't comment. Instead, he shrugged, a casual gesture at odds with the intensity in his eyes. "Water under the bridge, non? May I come in?" Aurora hesitated, then stepped aside, allowing him entry. The flat was a mess, books and scrolls strewn about, but Lucien didn't seem to notice or care. He moved with the ease of someone who knew the layout well, placing the wine bottle on the counter with practiced familiarity. "Still researching the arcane, I see," he commented, running a finger along the spine of a dusty tome. Aurora crossed her arms, watching him warily. "You didn't come here to discuss my reading habits, Lucien. What do you want?" Lucien turned to face her, his expression serious. "I need your help, Rory. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." Aurora's eyes narrowed. "My help? With what?" Lucien hesitated, then sighed, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. "There's a... situation. In my world. And I think you're the only one who can help me navigate it." Aurora raised an eyebrow. "Your world? You mean the supernatural one you dragged me into once upon a time?" Lucien nodded, his gaze steady on hers. "Yes. And I know you didn't want any part of it after... after what happened. But this is different. It's not something I can handle alone." Aurora bit her lip, considering. She'd spent the past two years trying to distance herself from that world, from Lucien. But she'd never been able to forget the way he'd looked at her that last night, the pain in his eyes when he'd walked away. And now, here he was, asking for her help. She sighed, uncrossing her arms. "Fine. But only because I owe you one. And because you're my best lead on finding a book I need." Lucien's lips twitched in a small smile. "I knew you couldn't resist a good mystery." Aurora rolled her eyes, but she couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at her own lips. "Don't push your luck, Moreau." Lucien chuckled, the sound warm and familiar, sending a shiver down Aurora's spine. She turned away, busying herself with pouring the wine, trying to ignore the way her heart raced at the sound. As they clinked glasses, Aurora couldn't help but feel a sense of inevitability. She'd thought she was done with this world, with Lucien. But here they were, drawn back together like moths to a flame. She could only hope they didn't get burned again.