Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR7YVXSKWRSKBDX0BG12JV

The Raven's Nest hummed with the low murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses punctuating the air like a heartbeat. Dim light flickered from the green neon sign outside, casting a soft glow on the faces of patrons scattered across the bar. Silas stood behind the counter, polishing a glass, his hazel eyes scanning the room with a practiced ease. He caught sight of Rory as she slipped through the door, her straight black hair framing her bright blue eyes, a hint of uncertainty in her posture. “Rory!” Silas called, a smile breaking across his face. He set the glass down and wiped his hands on a towel, moving to greet her. “Si,” she replied, her voice steady but laced with a hint of nostalgia. She stepped closer, the familiar scent of aged wood and whiskey wrapping around her like a long-lost embrace. Silas studied her, noting the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist, a remnant of childhood mischief. “You look good. London suits you.” “Thanks. It’s been a ride,” she said, glancing around the bar, her gaze lingering on the old maps and photographs that adorned the walls. “I didn’t expect to find you here.” “Life has a way of leading us to unexpected places.” He gestured toward a vacant table in the corner. “Care for a drink?” “Sure.” She followed him, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. They settled into the worn leather seats, the weight of years pressing down between them. Silas poured two glasses of amber liquid, sliding one across the table. “To old friends.” “To old friends,” she echoed, raising her glass. The warmth of the whiskey spread through her, but it couldn’t chase away the chill of memories that lingered in the back of her mind. “So, what’s new?” Silas leaned back, his expression curious yet cautious. Rory hesitated, the words caught in her throat. “I’m working at a restaurant. Delivery mostly. It’s... not what I imagined, but it pays the bills.” “Still running from the law, I see.” He chuckled softly, but the laughter didn’t reach his eyes. “Something like that.” She shifted in her seat, the leather creaking beneath her. “What about you? Still playing the spymaster?” “Retired, mostly. This place keeps me busy.” He gestured around the bar, his gaze drifting to the patrons. “But I still have my contacts. You never really leave that life behind.” Rory nodded, the weight of his words settling heavily between them. “I guess some things never change.” “True.” Silas’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “But you’ve changed, Rory. You seem... different.” “Different how?” She crossed her arms, a defensive gesture that felt instinctive. “More guarded. Like you’re carrying something heavy.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What happened?” She looked away, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. “It’s a long story.” “Got time.” He studied her, the lines on his face deepening with concern. “You know I’m here if you want to talk.” Rory took a deep breath, the air thick with unspoken words. “I left Cardiff to escape... Evan. It wasn’t easy. I thought I could start fresh, but the past has a way of creeping back in.” Silas’s expression softened. “I remember him. A real piece of work.” “Yeah.” She forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I thought I could handle it. I thought I was stronger.” “Strength isn’t just about handling things alone.” He leaned back, his gaze steady. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.” “I know that now.” She met his eyes, the vulnerability in her voice cutting through the tension. “But it took me a while to realize it. I spent too long pretending everything was fine.” “Pretending can be exhausting.” Silas’s voice held a note of understanding. “You don’t have to pretend with me.” Rory’s heart raced. “I just... I don’t want to burden you with my problems.” “Rory, we’ve known each other long enough. You could never be a burden.” He paused, his expression shifting. “But you need to let someone in. You can’t keep running.” “I’m not running anymore.” She straightened, a flicker of defiance igniting within her. “I’m just trying to figure things out.” “Figuring things out is part of living.” Silas’s tone softened, a hint of encouragement lacing his words. “But you can’t do it alone.” Rory looked down at her glass, the amber liquid swirling like her thoughts. “I don’t know how to let go of the past.” “Start by sharing it.” He leaned forward, his eyes locked onto hers. “What do you want to let go of?” The question hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. Rory swallowed hard, the memories flooding back—Evan’s anger, the feeling of being trapped, the nights spent in fear. “I want to let go of the fear. The feeling that I’m always looking over my shoulder.” “Then you need to confront it.” Silas’s voice held a quiet strength. “Face it head-on. You’re stronger than you think.” “I don’t feel strong.” She shook her head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I feel lost.” “Lost is just a place on the map.” He gestured to the old maps on the wall, their edges frayed and worn. “You can find your way back.” Rory’s gaze followed his gesture, the maps telling stories of journeys taken and paths forged. “What if I don’t know where to go?” “Then start with what you do know.” Silas leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “What do you want?” “I want to feel safe.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, raw and unfiltered. “Then let’s work on that.” He smiled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You’re not alone in this.” Rory felt a flicker of warmth in her chest, a small spark of possibility igniting within her. “I appreciate that, Si. I really do.” “Good.” He raised his glass again, a gesture of solidarity. “To new beginnings.” “To new beginnings.” She clinked her glass against his, the sound resonating like a promise. As they sipped their drinks, the conversation flowed, weaving through memories and laughter, the weight of the past slowly lifting. The bar buzzed around them, but in that moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.