Page 87 of Till Orc Do Us Part

But his eyes—gods—they haven’t left me once.

The applause starts slow. Soft.

Then it builds, crashing over me like the sea itself.

But he doesn’t clap.

He steps forward instead.

Through the crowd.

Through the noise.

Like the rest of the world has gone still again.

He reaches me slowly, stopping just shy of the mic.

And he doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t try to explain.

He just holds out his hand.

Open.

Steady.

I stare at it for half a breath.

Then I take it.

And the noise around us melts into something quieter, something real.

Because I know.

Whatever happens next, we beginhere.

CHAPTER 26

DROKHAZ

It begins with the hammer in my hand.

Not a metaphor.

An actual hammer—old, scarred, heavier than it looks. Cass presses it into my palm with a grunt and a crooked grin. The grip is smooth from years of work, the head pitted with use and salt.

“Time you got your hands dirty, giant,” he says.

I turn it once in my palm, feeling its weight settle through my arm. Solid. Real.

“I intend to,” I reply.

The morning air is thick with salt and sawdust. The sea breathes slow and deep beyond the boardwalk—waves glinting steel-gray beneath a brightening sky. A gull screams above, wheeling through wind that still smells faintly of last night’s rain.

I wear jeans and a battered, paint-splattered shirt that once belonged to one of my field teams. No suit. No cuffs. No mask.

Intentional.