Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTZ1QFVBHJ9WT2Q860CN72W

The green neon sign above the door buzzed with a low, insectile hum that vibrated in the teeth. Inside The Raven's Nest, the air held the scent of polished wood and stale lager. Maps from forgotten campaigns covered the walls, their edges curling in the damp London heat. Black-and-white photographs watched from the shadows, faces frozen in mid-laugh or mid-shout. Aurora sat at the far end of the bar. She traced the rim of her glass with a thumb. The crescent scar on her left wrist caught the dim light. She wore a black hoodie despite the warmth, the sleeves pulled down over her knuckles. Her straight black hair fell to her shoulders, hiding the line of her jaw. Silas moved behind the bar. His left leg dragged slightly with each step. He polished a tumbler with a rag that looked cleaner than the cloth warranted. The silver signet ring on his right hand clicked against the glass. He set a bottle of tonic in front of Aurora. She nodded. He turned away to wipe the counter. The door opened. A gust of wind from Soho street rattled the bottles on the shelf. A man stepped inside. He shook a wet umbrella. Water spotted the floorboards. He scanned the room, eyes adjusting to the gloom. His gaze landed on the figure in the hoodie. He stopped. The umbrella slipped from his fingers and clattered to the wood. Aurora stiffened. Her hand froze on the glass. Julian walked forward. His shoes squeaked on the varnish. He stopped two feet from her stool. He leaned in, squinting against the shadow of her hood. Rory? She did not turn. She looked at the reflection in the mirror behind the bottles. His face had filled out. Lines bracketed his mouth. He wore a suit that cost more than her monthly rent. You're staring. I thought you were dead. Julian reached out. His hand hovered near her shoulder. She flinched. The movement was sharp, involuntary. He pulled his hand back as if burned. He took the stool next to her. Silas appeared with a glass and poured whisky without being asked. Julian wrapped his fingers around the amber liquid. Cardiff University sent out a missing person alert three years ago. Your father hired a private investigator. My father hires people to fix problems. I was the problem. You vanished during finals. Evan told us you had a breakdown. Aurora took a sip of the tonic. The bubbles stung her throat. She set the glass down. The ice clinked. Evan lies. He sounded convinced. He said you were unstable. Dangerous. She turned on the stool. The hood fell back. Her bright blue eyes locked onto his. The colour was stark against the pale skin. Did he tell you about the bruise on his ribs? The one that matched the heel of my boot? Julian blinked. He took a swallow of the whisky. The liquid burned going down. He set the glass down hard. He said you hit him. In self-defence. I left everything. The degree. The flat. The life you all thought I wanted. You could have called. And said what? That I was sleeping on a friend's floor in London? That I was delivering noodles to pay for a lock on my door? Julian looked around the bar. He noticed the maps. The shadows. The man with the limp watching them from the end of the counter. Silas polished a spot on the wood. His hazel eyes remained fixed on the grain. You look different. People change. You look tired. Time does that. Julian spun the ring on his little finger. Gold flashed in the low light. Your mother cried at the graduation. She held your gown. She wouldn't let go of it. Aurora looked at her wrist. The scar white against the skin. She remembered the accident. A bicycle chain. A summer before the law school letters arrived. Before the fear started. She didn't need the gown. I need you to come home. Just for a weekend. See them. They think I'm a disappointment. They think you're alive. That's enough. Silas moved closer. He refilled Julian's glass. The bottle clinked against the rim. He did not speak. His presence was a wall between the past and the present. He leaned on the bar. The limp settled into his stance. The city is big, Julian. London isn't that big. I found you in twenty minutes. Luck. I went to the Golden Empress. The woman behind the counter said you live upstairs. She said you work for Yu-Fei. Aurora stood up. The stool legs scraped against the floor. The sound echoed in the quiet room. She pulled the hoodie up again. The shadows reclaimed her face. You shouldn't have come here. Why? Because you bring Cardiff with you. You smell of rain and old lectures. You smell of him. Julian stood. He towered over her. Six feet of expectation and history. Evan isn't here. He's everywhere. In the way you look at me. Like I'm broken glass. I look at you like you're my friend. Friends don't disappear for three years without a reason. I gave you a reason. You gave us silence. Aurora walked toward the back of the bar. The floorboards creaked under her boots. She stopped near the bookshelf that lined the rear wall. Her hand rested on a spine of a leather-bound book. She did not pull it. She just let her fingers rest there. Silas watched from the counter. He wiped the same spot on the wood. The rag moved in circles. Julian followed her. He stopped a pace behind. He reached into his jacket. He pulled out an envelope. White. Thick stock. He held it out. Your father sent this. Bank details. A ticket. Aurora looked at the envelope. She did not take it. Keep it. He set it on the shelf next to her hand. The paper whispered against the wood. He's sick, Rory. Liver. She closed her eyes. The blue vanished behind the lids. Her breath hitched. A small sound. Almost imperceptible. That's convenient. It's true. Convenient for him. Guilt is a good lever. He wants to say sorry. He wants to say he was right. Julian dropped his hand. The envelope stayed on the shelf. Dust motes danced in the light from the exit sign. You used to love the law. You talked about justice until my ears bled. I still do. Then fight for yourself. I am. By hiding in a bar in Soho? By surviving. Silas cleared his throat. The sound was dry. He tapped the bar with a finger. Last orders in ten. Julian looked at the bar owner. He nodded. He looked back at Aurora. The space between them felt vast. Miles of road and years of silence stretched across the gap. I'll leave the envelope. Don't. I already did. Julian turned. He walked to the door. He picked up the umbrella. He did not open it. He stepped out into the night. The green neon sign flickered. The door swung shut. The latch clicked. Aurora stood by the bookshelf. She stared at the white envelope. Silas walked over. He picked it up. He tossed it into the bin behind the counter. The paper landed on top of used napkins. He poured two fingers of whisky. He slid it toward her. She looked at the glass. She looked at the bin. You didn't have to do that. He paid for the drink. The rest was noise. He mentioned my mother. People use what they have. She picked up the glass. The liquid swirled. She drank it in one go. The heat spread through her chest. She set the glass down. Empty. Silas wiped the counter. He moved toward the secret room door hidden behind the maps. He paused. Lock up when you go upstairs. I'm not going up yet. Sit then. But don't think too hard. I can't help it. Then don't think. Just sit. Silas disappeared into the back room. The door clicked shut. Aurora remained at the bar. The green light hummed. The maps on the wall showed countries that no longer existed. She traced the scar on her wrist again. The skin felt rough under her thumb. She stared at the door where Julian had left. The wood was solid. Unmoving. She reached for the bottle of tonic. She poured more into the glass. The ice had melted. Water diluted the drink. She drank it anyway.