Run: 2026-02-19-01KHV16Z6M0HF7WESG4J96CXPY

Rain hammered the pavement outside The Raven's Nest, blurring the distinctive green neon sign into a smeared emerald ghost. Aurora pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped out of the London downpour. 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 of history. Aurora scanned the room. Only one customer sat at the bar. Silas Blackwood wiped a glass with a rag, his movements slow and deliberate. The grey streaks in his auburn hair caught the low light. He wore a waistcoat over a white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A silver signet ring glinted on his right hand as he turned the glass. He looked up. The rag stopped moving. Aurora walked toward him. Her boots clicked against the wood. She stopped two stools away from him. Silas set the glass down on the counter. The clink echoed in the quiet room. He studied her face, his hazel eyes narrowing. Aurora tucked a strand of straight black hair behind her ear. The movement exposed the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. Silas reached for a bottle of whiskey. He poured two fingers into a tumbler. He slid it across the bar toward her. You look different. Aurora wrapped her hands around the glass. The warmth seeped into her palms. Time does that. Five years. Six. Silas leaned on the bar. His weight shifted to his right leg. The left knee stayed stiff. He rubbed his thumb over the rim of his own glass. Cardiff feels like a lifetime ago. It was. You left without saying goodbye. Aurora took a sip. The alcohol burned her throat. She set the glass down. There wasn't time for goodbyes. Silas nodded. He looked at the maps on the wall behind her. His gaze lingered on a chart of the English Channel. Eva told me you were in London. She didn't say you were hiding. I'm not hiding. You walk like someone checking the exits. Aurora turned on her stool. She faced the room. The door stood behind her. The kitchen lay to the left. One way out. Old habits. Silas poured himself a drink. He raised the glass but didn't drink. You studied law. Pre-Law at Cardiff. You wanted to argue cases in a courtroom. Stand behind a desk. Wear a suit. Plans change. They do. Silas took a sip. He winced as the liquid went down. He placed the glass back on the coaster with precision. What do you do now? I deliver food. For who? Yu-Fei. Golden Empress. Silas let out a short breath. It sounded like a laugh but lacked humour. From barrister's daughter to delivery rider. That's a shift. It pays the rent. And the flat above the bar? Aurora tightened her grip on the tumbler. I haven't moved in yet. Silas tilted his head. You say that like you're convincing yourself. Aurora looked into the amber liquid. Her reflection stared back, distorted by the curve of the glass. Her bright blue eyes looked darker in the dim light. I needed space. From me? From everything. Silas straightened up. He walked around the bar. The limp pronounced itself with every step. He stopped in front of her. He smelled of sandalwood and tobacco. You ran from Evan. Aurora flinched. The name hung in the air between them. Everyone knows that. Not everyone. I know. Silas reached out. He hovered his hand near her wrist. He didn't touch the scar. He pulled his hand back. He hurt you. He's gone. Is he? He's not here. Silas turned away. He walked back to the taps. He checked the pressure gauge on the beer line. His back remained straight, but his shoulders slumped slightly. You were brilliant, Rory. You could have dismantled any argument they put in front of you. You had the mind for it. I have a different mind now. For survival. Yes. Silas turned back. He leaned against the counter. He crossed his arms. The silver ring caught the light again. I could have helped. You were in Prague. I came back. You were recovering. I could have made time. Aurora stood up. She walked to the window. Rain streaked the glass. The green neon sign buzzed outside. You had your own wounds. That doesn't mean I abandoned you. You didn't abandon me. I left. Same thing. Aurora turned around. She leaned against the window ledge. The condensation soaked into her jacket. I couldn't ask you for anything. Not after what happened to your leg. Not after the operation went wrong. You lost your career. I lost a job. I didn't lose my friends. You lost a part of yourself. I saw it. Silas walked toward her. He stopped a foot away. He looked down at her. He stood a head taller. We all lose parts. It's what we keep that matters. Aurora looked at his knee. She remembered the stories about the botched operation. The silence that followed his return to London. The bar opening as a cover. You opened this place to watch the city. I opened it to have a place where people could find me. Did you want me to find you? Silas looked at the door. The lock clicked as the wind pushed against it. I hoped. Aurora pushed off the window. She walked back to the bar. She picked up her glass. She drained the rest of the whiskey. I'm here now. For how long? I live in the city. That's not an answer. It's the only one I have. Silas picked up the bottle. He offered to pour more. Aurora shook her head. He put the bottle down. Eva worries. She worries too much. She loves you. I know. Silas rubbed his beard. The grey hairs stood out against the auburn. You look tired, Rory. I am. Sleep helps. Not always. Silas reached under the counter. He pulled out a set of keys. He placed them on the bar. The metal clattered against the wood. What are these? The flat. Above the bar. Aurora stared at the keys. I told you. I haven't moved in. You will. I didn't ask for this. You don't have to ask. Silas pushed the keys closer. They slid across the polished surface. They stopped against her hand. Take them. Aurora looked at the keys. Then at Silas. Why? Because you're safe here. The locks are good. The walls are thick. And you? I'll be downstairs. Aurora picked up the keys. The metal felt cold. This doesn't fix the last six years. No. It doesn't fix Evan. No. It doesn't fix Prague. Silas picked up his glass. He finished the whiskey. He set the glass down. The sound was final. Nothing fixes the past. We just build around it. Aurora closed her hand around the keys. She slipped them into her pocket. I have a shift tomorrow. At the restaurant? Yes. Go home. Rest. I need to work. You need to sleep. Aurora grabbed her jacket. She pulled it tight around her. I'll think about it. Silas nodded. He picked up the rag. He started wiping the counter again. The circular motion resumed. Don't think too long. The rain isn't stopping. Aurora walked to the door. She put her hand on the handle. She looked back. Silas didn't look up. He focused on the wood grain. Goodnight, Silas. Night, Rory. Aurora opened the door. The sound of the rain rushed in. She stepped out into the night. The green neon sign flickered above her head. She pulled her collar up. She walked down the street. Her hand stayed in her pocket. Her fingers traced the teeth of the key.