Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTX914SVRW9EEVGRJPV7QQ6

Green neon flickered above the doorway, casting a thin halo on the wet cobblestones. The Raven’s Nest breathed out a low hum, old maps and black‑and‑white photographs lining the walls like weary witnesses. A thin wisp of cigarette smoke curled from a corner, mingling with the scent of fried rice and spilled beer. Aurora pushed the door open, the bell tinkling. Her bright blue eyes scanned the room, catching the glint of a silver signet ring on a man's right hand. She paused, the scar on her left wrist catching a sliver of light as she brushed a stray lock of straight, shoulder‑length black hair from her face. He was behind the bar, a tall figure in a worn leather jacket, his hair a mix of auburn and grey streaks that fell to his shoulders. A slight limp shifted his weight onto his right leg, the left knee favouring the bar’s edge. He turned, his hazel eyes narrowing for a heartbeat before relaxing into a faint smile. “Rory,” he said, voice low, the word slipping out like a secret. She set down the delivery bag with a soft thud, the clatter of plates echoing faintly. “Silas. Still got that signet on your hand.” His fingers brushed the ring, the silver catching the neon glow. “It’s never left me. You’ve changed.” Aurora’s shoulders tightened. The years had carved lines into her posture, the city’s grind sharpening the edges of her once‑cool head. “I’m still delivering, same routes, same traffic. Only the city’s louder now.” He lifted a glass, the amber liquid catching the light. “London’s always louder. You used to hear the rain on the roof of the old flat, not the sirens.” She laughed, a sound that cracked the tension. “You think I miss the rain? I miss the quiet. The way we used to talk about law and literature over cheap coffee.” Silas placed the glass down, his thumb brushing the scar on her wrist without touching it. “You left the law for the kitchen. You left the city for the bar. I stayed.” A flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossed her face. “You kept your bar, your network. I kept the delivery routes, the night shifts. The world kept turning.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on the polished wood, his beard catching a stray droplet of condensation. “You ran from Evan. I ran from a botched operation in Prague. Both of us chose exits.” Aurora’s eyes flicked to the bookshelf that concealed a hidden back room, the secret that only a few knew. “You ever use that room for anything other than… meetings?” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sometimes for old friends. Sometimes for new deals. Sometimes for the ghosts that won’t leave.” She took a sip of the beer she’d ordered, the foam clinging to her lips. “Ghosts. That’s what we’re all made of now, isn’t it? The past we think we left behind.” He tapped the bar with a knuckle, the sound echoing like a clock. “You used to be the one who could think out of the box. You still are. You just box yourself in.” Aurora’s scar caught a flash of the neon sign, a crescent shape mirroring her own. “I thought I could outrun everything. I thought I could outrun you.” Silas’s eyes softened, the hazel deepening. “You never outran anything. You just changed the direction. The city’s streets are the same, the alleys still whisper.” She pressed her palm against the wood, feeling the grain. “I delivered a package to a man who said he’d change my life. He never showed up. I thought I’d wait forever.” He reached for a glass, his limp shifting his weight carefully. “I waited for a call that never came. I thought I’d keep the bar running, keep the secrets safe. I thought I’d keep you out of the mess.” Aurora’s voice lowered, the words barely above a whisper. “What if we both chose wrong? What if we both missed the chance to be something else?” Silas lifted his glass, the amber catching the neon. “We chose what we could. You chose the street, I chose the bar. The weight of time is a thousand pounds, but we keep walking.” She laughed again, this time without mirth, a sound that seemed to scrape the walls. “You always liked the weight. You always liked the secret room, the hidden whispers.” He turned his head, the silver ring catching the light. “The secret room is just a room. It’s what we bring in that matters.” Aurora stepped closer, the delivery bag now forgotten on the floor. “We were kids once, Silas. We talked about the world changing. We thought we’d be the ones to change it.” His gaze lingered on the scar, the crescent shape a reminder of a childhood accident she never fully healed from. “You still have that scar. It’s a map of where you’ve been.” She stared at the neon sign, green letters humming in the night. “And you have that ring. A map of where you’ve stayed.” Silas lifted a bottle, his fingers steady despite the limp. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we stayed on the same path?” Aurora’s eyes flicked to the doorway, where rain began to patter against the glass. “Every night I wonder. Every night I hear the rain on a roof that isn’t mine.” He poured a measure, the liquid sliding into the glass with a soft splash. “The rain never stops. It just finds new places to fall. The bar finds new patrons, the city finds new shadows.” She took the glass, the coolness of the glass against her palm grounding her. “You still own the Raven’s Nest. You still keep the secrets. You still wear that ring.” He tilted his head, a faint grin playing on his lips. “I still wear the ring. I still keep the secrets. I still have the bar.” Aurora’s gaze lingered on the bookshelf that concealed a door, the wood worn by countless hands. “Do you ever wish you could open that door for someone else? To let them in?” Silas’s eyes softened, the hazel turning to a muted gold. “I wish I could have opened it for you, when you needed it. I wish I could have told you I was proud of you, before you left.” She swallowed, the taste of beer mingling with the metallic hint of rain. “I was scared, Silas. I was scared of the law, scared of the city, scared of yourself. I thought I could run.” He placed the glass on the bar, the sound echoing like a promise. “Running doesn’t erase the footprints. They stay behind, in the dust, in the scars.” Aurora’s shoulders relaxed, the weight of the past easing just enough to breathe. “Maybe we’re both just trying to keep our footprints from being trampled.” He leaned back, his limp shifting his weight, his hand resting on the bar, the signet ring catching the neon glow. “Maybe. Or maybe we’re just trying to keep the night from swallowing us whole.” The rain intensified, a steady drumming on the windows, the neon sign flickering in rhythm. Aurora stood still, the delivery bag now a forgotten weight, the scar on her wrist a silent witness. Silas watched her, his posture steady despite the limp, his eyes reflecting the green glow. She turned to leave, the door swinging open with a sigh. “I should go. My routes call.” He nodded, the smile faint but genuine. “Take care of yourself, Rory. The city will wait.” She stepped into the rain, the neon sign reflected on the wet pavement, the bar’s door closing softly behind her. The sound of the bell rang once more, a brief note in the night. Silas watched the door, his hand lingering on the ring, the weight of time settled in the quiet. The Raven’s Nest breathed again, the neon sign pulsing, the secret room waiting behind the bookshelf, the night stretching beyond the bar’s dim light.