Page 97 of Till Orc Do Us Part

Rowan.

Her hair catches the lantern glow—loose and wild as the tide. She wears a dress the color of sea-foam shadow, fabric clinging soft to her skin. Her eyes, wide beneath the lights, gleam with something fierce and new.

Jamie tugs at her hand, laughing, half-dragging her through the crowd.

She lets him.

And her smile makes the stars seem dim.

I cannot look away.

They reach the fish shack first—reborn now in lantern light and fresh-sanded wood. Children swarm the space, voices overlapping. Jamie darts to his framed drawings, pointing with boundless pride.

"This one’s the lighthouse. And this is Mama and me. And Mr. Drokhaz helped hang them!"

Rowan crouches to listen, her gaze soft, her mouth trembling at the corners.

I shift deeper into the shadowed arch of the nearest stall.

I do not know if I belong among them.

I fought for this.

Bled for it—in ways no boardroom would ever grasp.

But belonging... is another battle entirely.

I watch her.

Watch them.

Jamie’s curls bob as he points out each page. Rowan’s hand brushes his shoulder, lingering just a breath too long.

A woman who fought with her whole heart, who stood when others fled.

A boy who trusted without question.

And me.

A builder of towers.

A breaker of things meant to endure.

I stand apart.

Not because they would push me away.

But because I do not yet know if I can step forward.

My fingers curl loose at my sides.

Above me, the rooftop exhibit glows—a testament to stories and scars alike.

I should be there.

But my eyes find Rowan again—her face tilted toward Jamie’s joy, her body framed in lantern fire and shadow.

And in the hush of my heart, beneath the sea’s steady song, one truth roots deeper than all the rest: