Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRJGAAQ15XKC1HX4FWJT2T

Aurora pushed open the heavy door to The Raven's Nest, the green neon sign casting an otherworldly glow behind her. The murmur of low conversations and the clinking of glasses greeted her. It had been a long day of navigating London's chaotic streets, delivering orders for Golden Empress. She hoped a drink in Silas' bar might provide some solace. The familiar scent of aged whisky and worn leather filled her lungs, grounding her. "Evening, Rory," Silas' voice rumbled from behind the bar. Aurora nodded towards him. "Hey, Si. How's the leg tonight?" Silas gave a wry smile, his hazel eyes twinkling under the dim overhead light. "As stubborn as ever. You know how it is." "Yeah, I do." She took a seat at the bar and drummed her fingers on the polished wood. "Can I get my usual?" Without another word, Silas turned to prepare her drink. Aurora glanced around, noting the familiar faces clustered at their usual spots, and then her eyes caught sight of someone she hadn't seen in years. Her breath hitched for a moment. It was Eva. Eva's hair was shorter, her once vibrant red locks now edged with silver. The sparkle in her eye had dimmed, replaced by something more akin to resignation. Aurora felt a pang of sorrow, remembering the wild dreams and infectious laughter of her youth. Noticing Aurora’s stare, Eva looked up and their eyes locked. "Aurora," Eva's voice carried a mixture of surprise and uncertainty, mingled with the faintest hint of a Welsh lilt. "Eva." She smiled, though it felt forced. The years between them stretched out like a chasm. Eva stood and walked over, each step hesitant as though she was testing unfamiliar ground. Aurora couldn't help but notice the frayed edges on Eva’s denim jacket and the battered leather satchel hanging off her shoulder. "Mind if I join you?" Eva’s voice was quiet. "Of course." Aurora gestured to the empty stool beside her. Silas placed her drink in front of her and raised an eyebrow at the new addition. "Just catching up with an old friend," Aurora explained. "Four years?" Eva winced as she took a seat. Aurora looked sideways at her, fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "Maybe five." Eva sighed, shoulders slumping. "I heard you were in London. Finally decided to hunt you down." "They keep you busy up north?" Aurora ventured. "Something like that." Eva's hands fidgeted with the strap of her satchel. "Spent some time in Glasgow after... you know... the thing with Evan." Aurora nodded. No need to rehash the past. "How's your family?" "They're good. Mum's still at the old school, Dad's retired." Eva kept her eyes fixed on the bar, avoiding Aurora's gaze. "And you? How've you been?" Aurora took a sip of her drink, letting the burn of the whisky settle her nerves. "Surviving. Delivering food, living above a bar." She laughed, but it felt hollow. "How’s the gallery? You always talked about running one." Eva chuckled, a bitter edge to it. "Got into curating after all. But it’s not the gallery I imagined. Mostly just end-of-year shows for art students." "Still, that's something." "Yeah," Eva muttered, more to herself than to Aurora. Silas drifted over to check if they needed anything else. Aurora shook her head, and he moved on with a knowing nod. "Do you ever think about Cardiff?" Eva finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Sometimes," Aurora admitted. "More than I'd like to." "Do you remember that night at the pier?" Eva's voice softened with nostalgia. "We snuck in after hours with a couple of bottles." "Yeah..." Aurora’s eyes grew distant. "You and me, talking about how we’d conquer the world." Eva smiled ruefully. "The dreams we had..." "Big dreams." Aurora’s voice lowered, touched with regret. "Things change." Eva reached out tentatively, placing a hand on Aurora's wrist, just below the crescent-shaped scar. Aurora flinched but didn’t pull away entirely. "Can we... maybe... be friends again?" Eva asked, her voice brittle. "Rebuild what we had?" "Do you think we can?" Aurora's voice held an edge of challenge, mingled with hope. "We owe it to ourselves to try, don’t we?" Eva squeezed her wrist gently. The weight of unspoken regrets hung between them, heavier than any words could capture. Aurora searched Eva's face, looking for the spark of the girl she used to know. She searched her own heart for forgiveness for herself and for Eva. Silas' soft footfalls approached again. "Another round?" Aurora looked at Eva, silent communication passing between them. Eva nodded ever so slightly. "Yeah. Another round," Aurora affirmed, feeling the stirrings of something long-dormant within her. Silas poured the drinks and quietly moved on, a wise old man leaving the two friends to navigate their fragile truce. Eva spoke first. "Do you ever hear from Evan?" Aurora stiffened slightly. "No. I made sure he couldn't find me." "Good," Eva nodded. "He was bad news." "You don't need to remind me," Aurora muttered, finishing her first drink and pushing it aside. "I'm sorry. Really, Aurora. For leaving when you needed me." Eva's voice carried the weight of years of guilt. Aurora took a deep breath. "I know you are. And I'm not blameless. I shut you out." Eva took a long gulp of her drink, eyes watering slightly from the burn. "Maybe we were just kids dealing with big problems." "Yeah," Aurora conceded. "But we're not kids anymore." "No," Eva agreed. "We're not." They sat in silence for a while, the bar’s bustle drifting around them. The tension between past and present hummed, speaking volumes. "You know," Eva said softly. "I've never stopped wishing things were different." "Same here." Eva's face finally transformed into a small, tentative smile. "So, what now?" Aurora allowed herself a real smile this time. "We start fresh. One step at a time." Eva's grip on Aurora's wrist tightened for just a moment before letting go. "I’d like that." "Me too." Their conversation turned lighter, accompanied by easy laughter that felt almost foreign, yet familiar. Eva asked about Aurora's deliveries, and Aurora inquired about Eva's latest art show. The past never fully left, but it no longer gnawed at their every word. Silas observed from the periphery, a slight smile pulling at his lips. He saw the healing beginning with each exchanged glance, each hesitant laugh. The weight of time and unspoken regret still loomed, but its chain seemed to lighten with each passing second. Maybe, just maybe, old friends could bridge the gap. In the end, it wasn't about forgetting the past. It was about acknowledging it and choosing to move forward anyway. Aurora and Eva toasted the future, uncertain yet brimming with the possibility of renewal.