Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTX7K5HWF1B8DMZRHZ2DD5Y

The Raven’s Nest’s green neon sign blinked a weary pulse against the Soho drizzle, casting long, distorted shadows across the rain-slicked pavement. Inside, the air hung thick with the scent of stale beer, aged wood, and something faintly metallic—like old coins or forgotten secrets. Silas Blackwood polished a glass behind the bar, his grey-streaked auburn hair catching the low light, the neat trim of his beard stark against his weathered face. A slight limp marked his movement as he slid the glass onto the worn oak surface with a soft *clink*. A figure paused in the doorway, hood pulled low against the rain. The hood slipped back, revealing bright blue eyes that scanned the dim interior. Not quite recognition, but a flicker of something sharp. She pushed the door open, the bell above it tinkling a brief, solitary note. Her gaze landed on Silas, and a ghost of a smile touched her lips—a smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by guarded wariness. She didn’t move towards him, instead leaning against the doorframe, one shoulder hunched against the cold. Silas didn’t look up immediately. He wiped the glass again, his movements deliberate, unhurried. The bar was quiet tonight, save for the distant hum of the city outside. He knew most faces that drifted in, knew their stories, their secrets. But this one… this one felt different. The posture, the way she held herself, the intensity in those blue eyes… it stirred something deep in the quiet man behind the bar. He finally raised his head, meeting her gaze. “Rory?” His voice was low, gravelly, carrying the weight of years. The name hung in the air. Aurora Carter—Rory—felt the blood rush to her cheeks, a heat that had nothing to do with the chill outside. “Silas,” she said, her voice smoother than she felt, the old nickname tasting strange on her tongue. “Long time.” She didn’t step further into the bar, remaining framed in the doorway, a silhouette against the neon glow. “I didn’t expect to find you here. Running the nest, I mean.” Silas pushed himself away from the bar, his limp becoming more pronounced as he crossed the small space between them. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes never leaving hers. “Life’s funny that way, isn’t it? The nest keeps me busy, Rory. Keeps me grounded.” He gestured vaguely towards the bar, the signet ring on his right hand catching the light. “Delivery driver, huh? Yu-Fei Cheung’s Golden Empress. That’s a long way from Cardiff University, Pre-Law. What happened?” Aurora shifted her weight, the small crescent scar on her left wrist catching the light as she pulled her sleeve slightly. “Life happened,” she said, her voice tight. “Evan… he wasn’t what he seemed. Cardiff was… complicated.” She avoided his eyes, looking instead at the worn maps on the wall. “I needed out. Needed to disappear.” She took a step forward, into the bar’s dim light, but not towards him. “London’s different. Quieter, in its own way.” Silas nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his hazel eyes. The Rory he remembered was sharp, quick, always ready with a plan. This Rory… she was guarded, her movements measured, her eyes holding a depth of weariness he hadn’t seen before. “You look… different,” he said finally, his voice softer. “More… settled? Or less?” He gestured at her simple coat, the lack of the sharp suits she used to favor. “The delivery job. It suits you, Rory. Less…… flashy.” She flinched at the nickname, the old familiarity jarring. “Settled? Maybe. Less flashy? Definitely.” She took another step, closer now, but still not touching the space between them. “I’m not running anymore, Silas. Not like before. Just… trying to keep my head down.” She paused, the words feeling heavy. “How about you? Still spying for the old crowd? Or just running a bar?” Silas chuckled, a low, dry sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “Spying? No. The nest is my front. My network… it’s quieter now. Fewer fires to put out.” He leaned back against the bar, his gaze drifting to the hidden bookshelf behind him, a silent reminder of the world he’d left behind. “I miss the fire, Rory. Miss the…… the purpose. But some fires… they leave scars. Permanent ones.” He met her eyes again, the hazel reflecting the bar’s amber light. “You left a fire behind too, didn’t you?” Aurora’s breath hitched. The scar on her wrist pulsed, a phantom ache. “Evan… he was a fire,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “A slow, consuming one. I left before it burned everything down.” She looked away, towards the rain-streaked window, watching the blurred lights of the city. “I thought I’d escaped it all. But some things… they follow you. Like shadows.” Silas nodded, understanding the unspoken weight. The years had changed them, but the core… the core still held. The quick mind, the sharp tongue, the hidden scars. “You look like you’re carrying a lot, Rory,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “More than just the weight of a delivery bag.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “You ever think about… going back? Cardiff? Evan?” She turned back to him, her blue eyes fierce in the dim light. “No,” she said, the word final. “Not Evan. Not Cardiff. Not the past.” She took a deep breath, the scent of old paper and beer filling her senses. “I’m building something new here. A quieter life.” She gestured vaguely around the bar. “This… this is mine now. In its own way.” Silas studied her, seeing the resilience beneath the weariness, the intelligence beneath the guardedness. The Rory he remembered was still there, buried under layers of caution and survival. “Building,” he echoed, a slow smile touching his lips. “That’s good, Rory. Really good.” He pushed himself away from the bar, his limp a familiar rhythm as he walked towards her. “Want a drink? On the house. Old times’ sake.” She hesitated, then nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. “Sure,” she said, her voice softer now. “Old times’ sake.” She followed him as he walked towards the bar, the weight of the years between them palpable but not insurmountable. The green neon sign outside blinked its weary pulse, a silent witness to the reunion of two old friends, forever changed by the paths they’d walked.