Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQYVWPJQVDDJF46TDVQ0MC

The neon glow of *The Raven’s Nest* pulsed like a slow heartbeat against the London night, casting jagged shadows across the bar’s worn wooden floor. The air smelled of stale beer and something sharper—burnt coffee, maybe, or the faint metallic tang of old wounds. Aurora Carter stood at the counter, her fingers brushing the rim of a glass as she watched the door. She hadn’t been here in years, not since she’d left Cardiff, not since the weight of her past had pressed down on her like a physical thing. She turned just as the door swung open. Silas Blackwood stepped inside, his presence cutting through the dim light like a blade. His grey-streaked auburn hair was slightly dishevelled, his beard shadowed under the bar’s dim glow. He moved with that quiet authority she remembered, though now there was something in his gait—something heavier, slower. His limp wasn’t as pronounced tonight, but it wasn’t gone. Aurora’s breath caught. She’d thought she’d outrun him. Thought she’d outrun this. “Rory,” Silas said, his voice low, rough. He didn’t wait for her to move. He crossed the space between them in two strides, his hand outstretched before she could react. The scar on her wrist—small, crescent-shaped—flared beneath his touch. “You look different,” he said. She didn’t pull away. “And you.” A flicker of something passed over his face—regret, maybe, or the ghost of a memory. “I’ve been busy.” “Busy,” she echoed, the word hanging between them like a question. She stepped back, her heels clicking against the tiles. “You’ve got a bar now.” “And you’ve got a life.” She laughed, sharp and bitter. “Life’s a joke, Silas.” He didn’t smile. “You always were a stubborn little thing.” The bar’s owner, a wiry man with a permanent scowl, cleared his throat from behind the counter. “Looks like we’ve got company.” Silas didn’t look away. “Aurora Carter.” She turned to face him fully, her bright blue eyes sharp. “Aurora Carter. Rory. Laila. Carter. Malphora.” The names rolled off her tongue like old debts. “You’ve changed.” “You’ve changed too,” he said, his voice dropping to something darker. “You left me.” The words hit her like a punch. She swallowed, her throat tight. “I had to.” “And now?” Now, she thought, was when she’d stopped believing in anything but the next step. Now, she’d learned to walk fast, to disappear when the weight got too heavy. Now, she was just another face in the crowd, another name in a ledger. Silas exhaled, slow and deliberate. “You ever miss it?” The question hung between them. Miss what? The old world? The life she’d left behind? The person she’d been? She didn’t answer. “You ever think about the things you left behind?” he pressed. She turned away, her fingers tightening around the glass. “I don’t think about them.” “You don’t have to.” His voice was rough, almost dangerous. “But you do.” The bar’s owner leaned over the counter, his voice a growl. “Right. If you’re gonna be trouble, you can go outside.” Silas didn’t move. “Aurora.” She faced him again, her breath steady. “What do you want?” He reached into his coat, pulled out a folded piece of paper. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. “This was in my pocket when I came in.” She took it, her fingers brushing his. The paper was yellowed at the edges, the ink smudged. She unfolded it, her eyes scanning the words before she looked up at him. “You ever read this?” She didn’t answer. Instead, she handed it back. Silas took it, his jaw tight. “You’re not going to read it?” She shook her head. “No.” He studied her for a long moment. “You’re not the same person who left me.” She didn’t deny it. “I’m not.” “You’re still me.” The words struck her like a blow. She looked away, her vision blurring. “You’re not the same person who sent me away.” Silas’s hand found hers again, his grip firm. “I’m sorry.” She pulled back, her breath coming fast. “You don’t have to say that.” He didn’t let go. “I do.” The bar’s owner’s voice cut through the silence. “Right. If you’re gonna be a nuisance, you can go.” Silas didn’t release her. “Aurora.” She turned back to him, her eyes burning. “I don’t want to talk about this.” “You’re not leaving.” She tried to step away, but his grip was too strong. “You’re not my father.” Silas’s face darkened. “I’m not?” She didn’t answer. The words hung between them, heavy and unspoken. Silas released her, stepping back. “I’ve got a job for you.” She didn’t look at him. “A job.” “It’s simple. Just get it done.” She turned to the door, her pulse hammering in her throat. “I don’t do jobs.” Silas’s voice was low, dangerous. “You always did.” She didn’t look back. “I don’t anymore.” The door clicked shut behind her. She stood there for a moment, her breath steady, her mind racing. Then she turned, her shoulders stiff. The bar’s owner watched her, his expression unreadable. “You’re leaving,” he said. She nodded. “I am.” The neon sign flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the bar. Aurora Carter walked out into the London night, her steps quick and sure. She didn’t look back. Silas watched her go, his hand resting on the signet ring on his right hand. He exhaled, slow and deliberate. He’d known she’d come back. He’d known she’d never leave. He turned back to the bar, his voice rough. “Right. Let’s get this place ready for the weekend.”