Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTXS7603876GJ0MTFSVJ99Z

The green neon sign above the door buzzed with a low, electric hum that vibrated in the teeth. Inside The Raven's Nest, the air hung heavy with the scent of polished wood and stale lager. Maps covered the walls, yellowed edges curling away from the plaster, pinned beneath black-and-white photographs of faces long forgotten. Aurora Carter sat at the far end of the bar, her fingers tracing the rim of a half-empty pint glass. The crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist caught the dim light as she rotated the glass. Silas Blackwood moved behind the counter, his left leg dragging slightly with each step. He wiped a spot on the mahogany surface with a rag, his hazel eyes scanning the room without really seeing it. The silver signet ring on his right hand clicked against a bottle neck as he set it down. The door opened. A gust of cold London air swept through the room, carrying the smell of rain and exhaust. A woman stepped inside. She shook a wet umbrella, water droplets flying onto the worn floorboards. Her coat was expensive wool, cut sharp at the shoulders. She scanned the room, eyes adjusting to the gloom. When her gaze landed on the figure at the end of the bar, she froze. Aurora looked up. The bright blue eyes narrowed. Eva walked over. Her heels clicked on the wood, a sharp contrast to the soft jazz playing from the corner speakers. She stopped two stools away from Aurora. Rory. Aurora did not smile. She took a sip of her beer. Eva pulled out the stool and sat. The movement was stiff. She placed her hands on the bar, palms down. Her nails were manicured, pale pink. Aurora's hands were rough, cuticles short and clean but skin weathered from handling delivery boxes and motorcycle grips. Silas approached. He looked at Eva, then at Aurora. The usual? Aurora nodded. Eva looked at Silas. Gin and tonic. Lime. Silas turned to the back shelf. The glass bottles clinked. Ice cracked in the scoop. You look different. Aurora set the glass down. The liquid rippled. Time passes. Three years. Something like that. Eva turned on the stool to face her fully. The neon light from the window cast a green tint across her cheekbones. She looked older. The softness around her jaw had hardened. I looked for you. After you left Cardiff. Aurora picked at a label on the beer glass. It peeled away in a strip. You looked in Cardiff. I moved to London. I called your parents. And? They said you didn't want to be found. Aurora lifted the glass again. The condensation wet her fingertips. They told the truth. Silas placed the gin and tonic in front of Eva. He slid a napkin under the base. He did not speak. He moved back to the other end of the bar, picking up a cloth to polish a tap. The limp was more pronounced when he turned away. Eva wrapped her hands around the cold glass. She did not drink. I heard about Evan. Aurora's hand stopped on the glass. The blue eyes locked onto Eva. What did you hear? That it was bad. Before you left. It was. I should have done something. When you came to uni that last semester. You wore long sleeves in July. Aurora took a long drink. She swallowed hard. You were busy. Exams. Your own life. Don't do that. Do what? Make it sound like I had a choice. You did. Everyone does. Eva flinched. She took a sip of the gin, the ice clinking against her teeth. I was scared. Of him. Of what he might do if I intervened. And now? Now I'm here. Aurora laughed. It was a dry sound, devoid of humour. It echoed off the maps on the wall. You're here because you're visiting. Or passing through. I live above this place. Eva looked around the room. She studied the photographs, the shadows in the corners. You live in a bar? I live in a flat. The bar is downstairs. It's dark. It's quiet. Silas moved back toward them. He refilled Aurora's water glass without being asked. He caught Aurora's eye. She gave a slight shake of her head. He nodded and moved away, the silver ring flashing under the low lights. Your mother worries. She shouldn't. She's your mother. She's a teacher. She teaches children to follow rules. I broke a few. You left law school. Pre-law. I never started the actual law. You were going to be a barrister. Like your father. I'm a delivery person. For a Chinese restaurant in Soho. Golden Empress. Eva stared at her. The judgment hung in the air, unspoken but heavy. You were brilliant. Top of the cohort. I was tired. You ran away. I left. Same thing. Aurora stood up. The stool scraped against the floor. She towered over Eva by an inch in her boots. She walked to the window. The green neon sign reflected in the glass, overlaying her face. Outside, rain streaked the pane. Running implies fear. I walked out the door. I took a train. I found a job. I found a place to sleep. You found a hiding spot. Aurora turned back. Her black hair fell straight around her shoulders. Safety costs money. Hiding costs nothing. Eva stood up as well. She smoothed the front of her coat. The wool whispered against itself. I'm getting married. Next month. Aurora walked back to the bar. She sat down again. Congratulations. He's a solicitor. In Cardiff. Safe. He's good. Good. Eva picked up her drink. Her hand shook slightly. She set it down before taking a sip. Come back. For the wedding. I work. Take a day off. Deliveries don't stop for weddings. I'll pay for the ticket. I don't need charity. It's not charity. It's family. We aren't family. We were. Aurora looked at her left wrist. She rubbed the scar with her thumb. The skin was smooth but the memory of the impact remained. People change. You stayed there. I came here. You wear wool coats. I wear leather jackets that smell like grease. You marry solicitors. I live above a spymaster. Eva's eyes widened. She looked at Silas. He stood in the shadows, cleaning a glass. He did not look up. What? Nothing. You said spymaster. Figure of speech. He owns the bar. He looks like... Like what? Like someone who knows things. He knows how to pour a drink. That's enough for me. Eva leaned in. The scent of her perfume was floral, cloying. It fought with the smell of beer. I miss you. Aurora looked at the door. The green neon buzzed. You miss who I was. I miss my friend. She died in Cardiff. That's not fair. Life isn't fair. Evan taught me that. You taught me that silence is easier than speech. I didn't teach you that. You practiced it. Every time I showed up with a bruise and you asked about the weather instead. Eva opened her mouth. She closed it. She reached for her bag on the stool. I have to go. My train leaves in an hour. Okay. Will you call? Aurora picked up her beer. She drained the last of it. She set the glass down with a solid thud. I have shifts. Just think about it. The wedding. I'll think about it. Eva slid off the stool. She hesitated. She reached out a hand toward Aurora's shoulder. She stopped mid-air. She pulled her hand back and adjusted her coat instead. Take care, Rory. You too, Eva. Eva walked to the door. She opened it. The bell above the frame chimed. The cold air rushed in again, swirling the dust motes near the floor. She stepped out into the rain. The door closed. Silas walked over. He picked up the empty gin glass. He looked at the door, then at Aurora. She looked rich. She looked trapped. You looked tired. I am tired. He poured another inch of beer into her glass. On the house. Aurora ran her thumb over the scar on her wrist. She looked at the reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The maps stared back. The faces in the photographs watched. Keep it. I'm working in twenty. Yu-Fei will wait. Yu-Fei doesn't pay me to sit. Yu-Fei pays you to deliver. You're still here. Aurora stood up. She pulled on her helmet from the hook under the counter. The straps hung loose. Difference between sitting and waiting. She walked toward the back room. The bookshelf stood against the wall, slightly ajar. She pushed it open. The hidden room behind it was dark. Where are you going? To check the route. The rain is heavy. The roads are empty. Silas leaned on the bar. His knee bent stiffly. Don't rush. Aurora paused in the doorway. The light from the bar cut across her face, leaving one eye in shadow. If I rush, I get there sooner. If you rush, you crash. Aurora stepped into the dark room. The bookshelf swung shut behind her, cutting off the light from the bar. The neon buzz continued on the other side of the wood.