Page 59 of Till Orc Do Us Part
It’s not a question.
And some small part of me hopes he’s right.
CHAPTER 18
DROKHAZ
The cursor blinks at me like a judgment.
I sit alone in the regional office’s executive conference room, long after the others have left. The city beyond the glass walls is a sprawl of bruised light—windows glittering against a rain-dark sky, headlights slicing through the streets below like restless fish beneath black ice.
Inside, the hum of the HVAC system is the only sound. Even the clock has been silenced here; in this place, time exists only in the mind and on the balance sheet.
I should be reviewing forecasts. Preparing tomorrow’s earnings call. Finalizing the demolition sign-off.
Instead, I stare at the draft proposal glowing cold and bright before me.
Lowtide Bluffs Redevelopment—Vision Revision 4.
I flex my hands once, twice.
They do not tremble. Not yet.
I think of the boy—Jamie—eyes bright as sea glass as he read his story beneath paper lanterns. Of Rowan standing in the glow, gaze fierce and wary, heart beating loud enough I could almost feel it through the air.
I think of a place built from stories, not steel.
And I begin to type.
PROPOSED REDEVELOPMENT—REVISION 4.
Full structural restoration of western boardwalk sector (historic core).
Preservation of love-lock rail, fish-fry stand, select original vendor stalls.
Foundation reinforcement and upgraded safety compliance.
Modernization limited to non-historic segments.
Prioritized leasing to community artisans, local vendors.
