Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQRVWRFC75TGQWQCWC1P52

The dimly lit interior of the Raven's Nest was as warm and welcoming as ever. The old photographs and maps adorning the walls cast a nostalgic glow, punctuated by the gleaming Fabergé egg-shaped lights that illuminated the polished mahogany bar. Silas surveyed his domain from his usual perch, his keen hazel eyes scanning the room. A flash of familiar auburn caught his gaze. His heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be... And yet, as the figure turned, Silas knew with a sinking certainty that it was her. Maria, his former partner and lover, whose betrayal had cost him his career, his pride, and nearly his life. She was even more stunning than he remembered. Her auburn hair, once wild and unruly, was now cut in a sharp, fashionable bob that framed her face. But her eyes, those piercing blue eyes, were unchanged—full of secrets and hidden depths. Silas took a deep breath, steeling himself. He couldn't avoid her indefinitely. Heaving himself off his barstool—the knee injury still plagued him on damp nights like this—Silas limped towards her table, his heart pounding in his chest. "Maria," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. "Long time no see." She looked up, startled. For a moment, a gamut of emotions flashed across her face—recognition, shock, fear, maybe even longing. But then it was gone, replaced by a cool, composed mask. "Silas," she replied, her voice as smooth and dangerous as a blade. "I had heard you retired. Opened a bar, I believe." He nodded, gesturing to the empty chair across from her. "May I?" She shrugged, a vague, dismissive gesture. "It's a free country." Silas settled into the chair, his mind racing. What was she doing here, after all these years? Was she hunting him down for some kind of twisted revenge? Or perhaps seeking to finish what they had started, all those years ago, before the world came crashing down around them? "You look well," he offered, hoping to break the tension. "London agrees with you." A wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Does it? I had hardly noticed, so engrossed have I been in my work." "Ah, yes. The life of an operative. It does tend to consume one." She raised an eyebrow. "You speak from experience, I believe." Silas leaned back in his chair, regarding her thoughtfully. "We both do, don't we? Tell me, Maria—what brings you to my little corner of the world after so long? Surely it can't be just the drink." She met his gaze, her blue eyes as hard and cold as ice. "Curiosity, perhaps. A desire to see what became of the man I once knew." "And what do you see?" Maria surveyed the room, taking in the old photographs and the familiar faces manning the bar. When she turned back to Silas, there was a flicker of something almost wistful in her eyes. "I see a ghost from my past," she said softly. "A reminder of the sins I've long sought to escape." Silas felt a pang in his chest. He had imagined this moment so many times over the years—moments of confrontation and recrimination, of accusations and denials. But now, faced with the reality of it, he found himself strangely at a loss. "I've thought about you a lot, over the years," he admitted. "I've wondered what became of the woman I thought I knew. The woman I...loved." Maria's eyes widened, and for a moment, Silas thought he saw a flicker of genuine emotion in their depths. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared, replaced by a cool, guarded neutrality. "Silas...we both made choices, in the heat of the moment. Choices that defined us, perhaps." "Ah, but did they, Maria? Did they truly define us? Or are we more than the sum of our mistakes?" She was silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the swirling amber liquid of her drink. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and measured, as if carefully considering each word. "I don't know, Silas. I honestly don't know. All I know is that those choices...they shaped me, in ways I can never fully erase. And I wonder if you're any different." Silas was silent, weighing her words. He knew there was no easy answer, no clean resolution. Whatever had passed between them was long gone, lost in the mists of time and the rounding path of their lives. But even so, he felt a flicker of...something. Regret, perhaps. Or maybe just a longing for what might have been. "I suppose we'll never know," he said finally, draining the last of his drink. "Shall we raise a toast to old times, then? The times that made us who we are?" Maria raised her glass, her eyes never leaving his. "To old times," she echoed. "May they rest in peace." They touched glasses, the crystal ringing out like a death knell in the crowded bar. As Silas watched Maria drain her drink and rise from the table, he couldn't help but wonder what the road ahead would bring. But one thing was certain—whatever lay in store, he wouldn't face it alone. Not this time.