Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQSQHW0PXNC35JHWZYPX60

The Raven's Nest hummed with low conversation and the clinking of glasses. The air, thick with the scent of aged whiskey and wood polish, absorbed the laughter and whispers that bounced between the antiquated maps hanging crookedly on the walls. A single flickering neon sign bathed the bar’s entrance in a vibrant green glow, beckoning lost souls to seek shelter inside. Aurora Carter leaned against the polished oak counter, a delivered order clasped in her grip, her bright blue eyes scanning the faces of the patrons. Over the clatter of dishes and the soft murmur of dialogue, a familiar laugh echoed through the dim light. She turned, reconciling the sound with the ghost of her past. Then she saw him. Silas Blackwood stood at the far end of the bar, his auburn hair threaded with strands of grey, a marked difference from the man she'd once known. The subtle limp in his gait registered in Aurora's mind, a reminder of life’s unforgiving nature. She hadn’t expected to see him here, a ghost from her earlier days lingering in the distance while she wrestled with the present. He caught her gaze, and a flicker of recognition sparked in his hazel eyes. A slow smile crept across his face, tinged with surprise and a hint of nostalgia. “Rory,” he called, his voice steady but edged with a roughness that revealed the years. The din of the bar faded momentarily as she stepped closer, uncertainty battling with relief in her chest. “Si,” she replied, trying to suppress the excited tremor weaving into her tone. “It’s been what, three years?” “More, I think.” He watched her, the amusement lingering in his eyes, yet a shadow passed over his features. “You look… different.” Aurora smirked, lifting her chin defiantly. “Different good or different bad?” “A mix, perhaps.” His gaze dropped to the scar on her wrist as if tracking time's reckless hand. “You’ve had some events in between.” “Life,” she replied curtly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You’ve got some changes too.” He nodded, rubbing his thumb over the silver signet ring on his right hand. “I’ve traded one life for another, I suppose. How’s delivery treating you?” “Challenging. At least it keeps things interesting. Not quite the courtroom drama I thought I’d end up in.” She gestured to the bar, her smile faltering. “At least it’s better than being stuck back in Cardiff.” Silas studied her, the memories of old conversations and shared dreams hanging heavily between them. “You shouldn't have had to run away,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t just about running.” The tension from her words twisted in the air. “Evan…” The name lingered, a bitter taste pressing against her tongue. Silas shifted, nodding slowly. “I learned about him. Got some... vague whispers through the network. It’s a shame. You deserved better.” “Nobody deserves what that man handed me,” she snapped, eyes narrowing. “I came here to put that behind me.” “Good.” Silas offered her a softened expression, a blend of sympathy and frustration. “But you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. You’re strong, Rory, but strength isn’t just jumping forward. Sometimes it’s about looking back.” “Thanks, but no thanks.” She crossed her arms, the warmth evaporating. “I didn’t expect a therapy session.” He let out a breath, the weight of their shared past hanging thick. “It’s not about that. It’s just… you’ve changed, and not just the surface level. I see it in your eyes.” The remark surprised her. She glanced away, not wanting to reveal too much of the storm brewing beneath her calm facade. “It’s called adulting.” “Adulting,” he mused, half-smirking. “Sounds exhausting.” “Exhausting doesn’t cover it.” Aurora shifted her weight, her gaze drifting to the bar’s wooden shelves lined with aged bottles. “But I’m making it work. I have a plan. I’ll be gone from this soon.” “Where will you go?” He leaned forward, earnestness breaking through the contemplation. “The world is bigger than Cardiff or London, but… and I don’t mean to pry, what’s the endgame?” “Freedom,” she stated, a sigh escaping her lips. “Something I thought I’d have before all of this.” “Is it only about freedom?” Silas shifted again, watching her with an intensity that unnerved her. “Or is there more?” “My heart doesn’t really belong to this world anymore.” The words tumbled out, unwarranted and raw. “Maybe you’ve just become disconnected,” he suggested, an odd glimmer in his eyes. “Or lost track of who you are.” “Who I am?” She scoffed, a sharp laugh escaping her. “Does that even matter? People change, Si. We don’t stay the same.” “True,” he agreed, his voice a low murmur, “but not all changes are for the better.” The honesty stung, and Aurora turned away, her heart racing. She spotted a group in the corner, raucous laughter erupting while clinking glasses cheered their peculiar exploits. “We used to sit in places like this,” she said, forcing a smile, creating a bridge across the tension. “Laughing about stupid things.” “Yeah, like that one time we tried to start a band,” he chuckled, his eyes brightening with the memory. “Let’s not bring that up.” She shook her head, laughing lightly to mask the underlying strain. “Right, the worst idea ever. We couldn’t even hold a note between us,” he smirked. The fondness spilled out, but it passed, slipping back into an awkward silence. The thrill of nostalgia faded, rushing into the complexities of what remained unsaid. “You’re still the same Rory,” Silas said softly, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smile that held a hint of sadness. “Just a more… guarded version.” “And you’re still sticking your nose into everyone’s business,” she teased, fighting feelings that threatened to surface. Her mind rebelled against the thought that she’d let herself get caught in this moment. “Old habits,” he shot back, the ghost of his past self flickering in his eyes. “I still care about the few people I let in.” “Do you?” The question hung in the air, challenging the unspoken truths that shaped their lives apart. “Yeah,” he answered, his voice a steady anchor amidst the storm swirling in the room. “I do. And I’m still here, Rory. You can let people in without it becoming a burden.” Her breath hitched. “It’s not that simple, Si.” Silas leaned on the bar, an earnest expression etched into his features. “Sometimes it’s just about being open. You might be surprised what connections can provide.” “And what if they drag me back?” she countered, her defenses rising again, her heart pounding with memories of what she left behind. “Either way, you can face it.” He met her stare directly, unwavering. “Or run again.” The air thickened, the laughter around them fading into background noise. She sensed the weight of his words, felt the familiar pulse of their shared understanding crashing against the walls erected over years of silence and regret. Aurora’s heart raced, the barriers crumbling slowly with each second spent in his presence. The past lingered, but perhaps she could handle it here, even if only for a moment. “Maybe,” she said finally, a breath trembling out with uncertainty. And just like that, the burden of their shared silence hovered, unspoken but felt, between lifelong friends forced to confront who they had become.