Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0021K848VMFVEGN2SXS03

The chain rattled once, then again, before the door cracked open just enough for Eva’s voice to slice through the gap. "What in the name of all that’s cursed are you doing here, Aurora?" Rory stood on the worn welcome mat, shoulders hunched against the drizzle that had clung to East London all afternoon. Her delivery pouch, still strapped across her chest, bore the golden phoenix of the *Golden Empress* faded at the seams. Rainwater glistened in her black hair, framing a face that had learned to wear stillness like armor. Eva hadn’t changed—same auburn curls pinned messily atop her head, same smudged reading glasses perched on her nose, same oversized jumper swallowing her frame. But her eyes, sharp and green as broken glass, hadn’t softened. "I needed to see you," Rory said. Her voice was low, calm, but the fingers curled around the strap of her bag trembled once before she caught them. Eva stepped back, didn’t open the door wider. Ptolemy, the tabby, wound around her ankles and peered out with disinterest at the unwelcome guest. "You *needed*?" Eva’s laugh was brittle. "You vanish for eight months. No note, no message. Just a single text—*I’m leaving, don’t look for me*—and now, out of the blue, you show up soaked and expect to just… walk back in?" "I didn’t know where else to go." That stopped her. Eva exhaled through her nose, studied Rory like she was parsing a spell gone wrong. Behind her, the flat breathed—paper-thin walls humming with the curry house’s extractor fan, the creak of old floorboards, the rustle of scrolls as wind slipped through a cracked window. Then, grudgingly, Eva undid the chain. Rory stepped inside. The warmth hit her first—thick, spiced air layered with old paper, jasmine tea, and the faint metallic tang of dried herbs. Books spilled from sagging shelves. Scrolls lay unrolled on the kitchen table, weighted down by a cracked geode and a half-empty mug of something dark. Symbols Rory didn’t recognize pulsed faintly at the margins under low lamplight. "You still keep wards on the windows," Rory murmured, toeing off her damp boots. "Learned my lesson," Eva said flatly. "People disappearing in the night tends to do that." Rory flinched. Ptolemy circled her legs once, then retreated beneath the sofa. Eva folded her arms. "So. What changed? Did your conscience finally catch up? Or did Yu-Fei fire you for being a ghost?" "I’m not working for Yu-Fei anymore." "Oh?" Eva arched a brow. "And what noble cause has Aurora Carter thrown herself into this time?" "I’m freelance." "Running packages between witches and warlocks? Playing courier in the underbelly again?" Rory’s jaw tightened, a muscle flickering near her temple. "I needed distance. From everything. From *him*." Eva softened—just a fraction. "You didn’t have to disappear from *me*." "You wouldn’t have let me go." "No. I wouldn’t." Eva turned, walking to the kettle. It whistled a moment later, high and sharp. "You scared the hell out of me, Rory. One day you’re here, crashing on my sofa, talking about suing the university for wrongful dismissal when they dropped your funding. The next, you’re gone. No calls. Nothing." "I didn’t want you involved." "Involved in what?" Eva spun, tea spoon frozen in midair. "Evan? Please. I’d already hexed his car tires flat when he followed you here that one time. You think I’d hesitate to ruin the rest of him?" Rory looked down. The scar on her wrist—pale, crescent-shaped—caught the lamplight as she rubbed it absentmindedly. "I didn’t want you to have to," she said quietly. Silence stretched. Eva set the spoon down. She poured hot water into two chipped mugs, dropped in teabags without asking. "You were always the one who thought running was the same as surviving," she said, softer now. Rory took the mug. The heat seeped into her palms. She didn’t drink. "I made a mess of things," she admitted. "With you. With… everything." "Understatement." "I came back because I need help. Not with Evan—he’s in prison. Blackwood Asylum, actually. Fraud, assault, possession of restricted grimoires. Lucien sent him there." Eva froze. "Lucien Moreau? The *Frenchman* helped you?" Rory nodded. "He’s… complicated. But he keeps his word." Eva studied her. "You trust him." "Not blindly. But he's saved my life twice. Once when Evan’s people came after me in Camden. Once when I nearly drowned in the Thames running from a shade he *swore* wasn’t his fault." A faint smile tugged at Eva’s lips. "Sounds like you’ve been busy." "I’ve been trying to stay alive." "And now?" Rory looked up. Her bright blue eyes met Eva’s. Not pleading. Not demanding. Just present. "Now I want to come back. To London. To… this." She gestured vaguely at the cluttered flat, the life still vibrating in its corners despite her absence. "If you’ll let me." Eva didn’t answer right away. She walked to the window, undid a pin, and traced a sigil into the glass. It glowed faintly blue, then faded. A ward reinforced. "You remember the first time you stayed here?" Eva asked. Rory let out a small breath. "You were translating that Sumerian curse tablet. I spilled tea on it." "You *did*. And I screamed so loud the ceiling cracked." Eva turned, a real smile breaking through. "You stayed anyway. Made me laugh about it later. Said cursed tea would give me *extra insight*." "I stand by that." Eva stepped closer. Close enough that Rory could see the freckles dusting her nose, the faint shadow beneath her eyes. She reached out, slow, hesitant, and brushed a strand of wet hair from Rory’s forehead. "You look tired," she said. "I’ve been running for a long time." "You don’t have to anymore." The air between them shifted—charged, fragile. Not quite safe. But open. Eva’s fingers lingered at Rory’s temple, then dropped. "You can sleep on the sofa," she said. "But I’m changing the locks again tomorrow. And if you vanish like that again, I won’t come looking. I’ll let the next curse find you." Rory nodded. "Fair." "And you’re helping me clean this mess." "Deal." Eva turned toward the kitchen, then paused, not looking back. "You could’ve called, Rory." "I know." "I missed you." Rory closed her eyes. For the first time in months, something in her chest cracked, not broke. "I missed you too."