Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTXHA56B12YXEN9BPSPYDDV

The green neon sign buzzed overhead, casting a sickly pallor over the wet pavement of Soho. Aurora Carter pushed open the heavy oak door of The Raven's Nest and stepped out of the rain. Water dripped from the hem of her jacket onto the worn floorboards. The air inside smelled of stale beer, lemon polish, and old paper. Maps covered the walls, their edges curling in the humidity. Black-and-white photographs watched from the shadows, faces frozen in moments long past. She moved toward the bar, her boots making no sound on the wood. The place was empty save for one man polishing a glass behind the counter. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Grey streaks ran through his auburn hair. A neat beard framed a jawline that looked carved from stone. He set the glass down and looked up. Hazel eyes met bright blue. The man's hand paused on the counter. He wore a silver signet ring on his right hand. The metal caught the dim light. Aurora stopped three feet from the bar. She placed her hands on the surface. The wood felt cool under her palms. She turned her left wrist slightly. The crescent-shaped scar stood out against her skin, pale and thin. Silas Blackwood straightened his spine. He stepped around the end of the bar. A slight limp dragged his left leg with each step. He stopped in front of her. You look like your father. His voice was low, rough like gravel under a boot. People tell me that. Aurora kept her gaze fixed on the bottles behind him. Rows of amber and green glass lined the shelves. Dust motes danced in the light from the neon sign outside. They told me you were dead. Silas reached for a bottle of whiskey. He poured two fingers into a tumbler. He slid it across the wood. The liquid sloshed against the side. I heard you were in Cardiff. Studying law. I left. She wrapped her fingers around the glass. The warmth seeped into her skin. She did not drink. You left everything. I left what I needed to leave. Silas leaned against the bar. He crossed his arms over his chest. The fabric of his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders. Eva told me you were coming to London. She did not tell me you would walk through my door. I did not know this was your place. Aurora looked around the room. The maps showed borders that no longer existed. The photographs depicted men in suits standing outside buildings that had been bombed out during the war. You live upstairs. I sleep upstairs. I do not come down. Silas nodded. He tapped his signet ring against the wood. A dull thud echoed in the quiet room. Why tonight? The rain got worse. Aurora lifted the glass. She took a sip. The whiskey burned her throat. She set the glass down. You changed. Time does that. You look tired. Silas rubbed his left knee. His fingers pressed into the fabric of his trousers. The knee gives me trouble when it rains. Old injury. Prague. I remember you walking without a limp. You were ten years younger. So was I. Silas walked around the bar again. He stood on the other side of the wood. He picked up a rag and wiped a spot on the counter. He wiped the same spot three times. Your father asked me to look out for you. Before he died. Aurora flinched. Her hand tightened around the glass. He is dead? Three years ago. Heart attack. She looked down at the drink. The amber liquid swirled as her hand shook. She stilled her hand. He never called. He did not know how. Silas tossed the rag into a sink behind him. It landed with a wet slap. You ran away from Evan. Aurora lifted her head. Her black hair fell across her face. She brushed it back with a sharp movement. How do you know that name? Eva talks. She worries. She should not have told you. She told me you needed a place. I gave you the flat. I did not ask questions. Aurora stepped back from the bar. The floorboard creaked under her weight. You knew him? I knew of him. Silas walked toward her. He stopped when he saw her shoulders tense. He raised his hands. Palms open. I am not him, Rory. Do not call me that. Silas dropped his hands. He turned away. He walked back to the shelves. He picked up a bottle of gin. He held it up to the light. Your mother taught me how to make a proper martini. In Cardiff. Before you were born. Aurora watched his back. The grey streaks in his hair looked like ash in the dim light. She loved this city. She loved you. Silas set the bottle down. He turned around. He leaned his hips against the counter. You have his eyes. I have my mother's eyes. You have his stubbornness. Aurora finished the whiskey. She set the glass on the counter. The clink sounded loud in the silence. I need to go upstairs. It is late. I know. The rain hammered against the window. The green neon sign flickered. A buzz filled the air, then stopped. The room plunged into darker shadow. Silas reached into his pocket. He pulled out a key. He placed it on the bar. For the back door. Less noise. Aurora looked at the key. Brass, worn smooth by touch. Why give me this? Because you will not ask for it. She picked up the key. The metal felt cold. She closed her fist around it. Thank you. Silas nodded. He picked up the glass she had used. He turned toward the sink. Rory. She stopped. Her hand rested on the door handle. Do not stay away so long next time. Aurora opened the door. The sound of the rain rushed in, loud and demanding. She stepped into the hallway. The light from the bar spilled onto the worn carpet. I make no promises. She pulled the door shut. The latch clicked. Silas stood behind the bar. He held the glass in both hands. He stared at the spot where she had stood. The wood retained the heat of her palms for a moment, then cooled. He set the glass in the sink. He turned off the tap. The silence returned to the room. He looked at the maps on the wall. The borders remained fixed. The people in the photographs remained still. He rubbed his knee again. He walked to the window. He looked out at the street. The green neon sign reflected in the puddles on the pavement. He turned back to the bar. He picked up the rag. He wiped the spot where she had placed her glass. He wiped it once. He wiped it twice. He set the rag down. He waited. The clock on the wall ticked. The sound measured the seconds. He poured another drink. He did not drink it. He watched the door.