Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPFKEFYTGM68PQ5MTYD83V

The Raven's Nest hummed with the low murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses. The scent of aged wood and spilled ale mingled with the faint, lingering aroma of tobacco, a remnant of the bar's past. Aurora Carter, or Rory as she was known to her friends, pushed open the heavy door, the green neon sign above flickering slightly as she stepped inside. The dim light cast long shadows, and the walls, adorned with old maps and black-and-white photographs, seemed to whisper stories of the past. She scanned the room, her bright blue eyes adjusting to the dimness. The bar was a familiar sight, a place she had frequented in her younger days, though she hadn't set foot in it for years. The Raven's Nest had a way of making one feel both at home and out of place, a sentiment that suited her current mood. "Well, look what the cat dragged in." The voice was deep, familiar, and laced with a hint of amusement. Rory turned to see Silas Blackwood standing behind the bar, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. His grey-streaked auburn hair was neatly combed, and his beard, matching his hair, was neatly trimmed. He leaned slightly on his left leg, a slight limp evident in his gait. "Silas," Rory acknowledged, her voice steady despite the surprise. She walked over to the bar, her boots clicking softly on the worn wooden floor. "I didn't know you'd taken over this place." Silas chuckled, a warm sound that seemed to fill the room. "Took over? More like inherited. Old Man Raven retired and left it to me. Figured I'd give it a shot." He gestured to the barstool in front of him. "Sit. It's been ages." Rory hesitated for a moment before sliding onto the stool. The leather was worn smooth, and it creaked slightly under her weight. She glanced around the bar, taking in the changes and the things that had stayed the same. "It's been what, five years?" "Six," Silas corrected gently. He poured her a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light. "Neat, right?" Rory nodded, her fingers brushing the glass as he slid it towards her. She took a sip, the burn familiar and comforting. "You remember." "Of course I remember," Silas said, his voice soft. "You think I'd forget how my best friend takes her whiskey?" The word "friend" hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Rory looked down at her glass, tracing the rim with her finger. "A lot has changed, Silas." Silas leaned against the bar, his hazel eyes studying her. "You've changed," he said finally. "Not in a bad way. Just... different." Rory met his gaze, her bright blue eyes searching his. "I left Cardiff," she said. "After... everything. I couldn't stay there anymore." Silas nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Evan?" Rory's fingers tightened around her glass. "Yeah. Evan." She took another sip of her whiskey, the burn a welcome distraction. "I couldn't stay. Not after what he did." Silas reached out, his hand covering hers. His touch was warm, familiar. "I'm sorry, Rory. I should have been there." Rory shook her head, her black hair swaying slightly. "You couldn't have known. None of us could." Silas sighed, his gaze drifting to the photographs on the wall. "Time has a way of changing things, doesn't it?" Rory followed his gaze, her eyes lingering on a photograph of the two of them, young and carefree. "We were so young," she said softly. Silas chuckled, a bitter sound. "And stupid. God, we were stupid." Rory smiled, a small, sad smile. "We were happy." Silas looked at her, his eyes soft. "We were. For a while, at least." The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with the weight of shared history and unspoken regrets. Rory took another sip of her whiskey, the liquid warming her from the inside out. "What about you, Silas? What happened to you?" Silas leaned back, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "I retired," he said. "After Prague. The knee was never the same, and I couldn't keep up with the field work." Rory nodded, her eyes flickering to the slight limp in his gait. "I'm sorry, Silas." Silas shrugged, a small, sad smile on his lips. "It is what it is. I opened this place, kept in touch with old contacts. It's not a bad life." Rory looked around the bar, her eyes taking in the details. "It suits you," she said finally. Silas chuckled, a warm sound that filled the room. "Thanks, Rory. That means a lot coming from you." Rory smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her face. "I mean it. You've built something here, Silas. Something real." Silas looked at her, his eyes soft. "So have you, Rory. You've built a life, a new start. That's something to be proud of." Rory looked down at her glass, her fingers tracing the rim. "I don't know about that," she said softly. "I'm still figuring things out." Silas reached out, his hand covering hers. "We all are, Rory. We all are." The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with the weight of shared history and unspoken hopes. Rory looked up at Silas, her bright blue eyes meeting his hazel ones. "It's good to see you, Silas," she said softly. Silas smiled, a warm, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "It's good to see you too, Rory. It's good to see you too." The Raven's Nest continued to hum with the low murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses, a testament to the passage of time and the weight of unspoken regrets. But in that moment, in that dimly lit bar, two old friends found a sense of peace, a sense of home. And for now, that was enough.