Chapter 372: The Letter That Waited

I keep looking at the sign for a few more seconds.

HALCYON CIVIC DEVELOPMENT

The name bothers me in a specific way. Not because I recognize the company right away, but because I’m certain I’ve seen it somewhere before. I run my eyes over the panel again and find, near the bottom, a smaller line that almost disappears between legal notices and registration numbers.

A STARDEEP COMPANY

My attention locks there.

Stardeep.

Now I remember.

In my first life I never had any reason to track every company orbiting that name. Most of them looked like exactly what they claimed to be: haulers, developers, logistics firms, holdings, investment funds, and service providers spread across the districts. Some small enough never to appear in the news.

The parent company was another story.

Stardeep Company was one of the terrestrial structures controlled by Valerius.

The kind of empire that never uses the same name on two consecutive doors.

I look at the condemned building behind the fence.

Halcyon handles land acquisition and redevelopment.

A civil arm.

A Deepwarden arm.

’They’re taking ground on both sides.’

That doesn’t mean they bought this place because of Rhayne. I have absolutely nothing yet to support a conclusion like that. It could be a simple real estate deal, one more cheap property swallowed by a company that buys hundreds a year.

Even so, coincidence and Deepwarden are two things I’ve learned not to put together easily. And depending on when they did this, the answer gets a lot more conclusive.

Behind me, Rhayne keeps looking at what’s left of the building without saying a single word.

I set my thoughts aside and go back to her.

"Rhayne."

Her eyes stay fixed on the empty windows.

"They’re gone..."

Her voice comes out low.

"All of them..."

I could say we don’t know that yet. That maybe they were relocated, maybe there’s another building, maybe the orphanage only changed addresses.

That would be true.

It would also be useless right now.

I take her hand.

Rhayne finally looks at me when, instead of just holding it, I turn her palm over and set it against my face.

Her fingers touch my cheek.

She freezes.

"Den...?"

"I’m with you."

I keep her hand there.

"Remember the first time you did this?"

The storm-cloud gray eyes stay on mine.

She knows exactly what I’m talking about.

"I was on your side back when touching me tore my soul out of my body."

Her mouth moves a little, almost forming an answer.

"Now look."

I wait.

Nothing happens.

No cold runs through me. No energy drains away. No window opens in front of my eyes.

Just Rhayne’s hand against my skin.

"Do you feel it?"

She nods slowly.

"Nothing."

"Exactly."

I run my fingers over her wrist, keeping her palm in place.

"So listen. We’re going to find out where they went. If they changed addresses, we’ll find them. If somebody shut this place down, we’ll find out who did it. I was on your side back when being near you had a price."

I hold her eyes.

"I’m staying on your side now."

Rhayne goes quiet.

She doesn’t blush.

She doesn’t try to turn her face away.

She just watches me for a few seconds, like she’s putting those words somewhere she doesn’t want to lose them.

Then her fingers move slightly against my cheek.

"Thank you, Den."

She takes her hand back.

There’s no awkwardness in the gesture.

Only understanding.

I look at the building again.

"Where the hell do you move an entire orphanage to?"

The question comes out more for me than for her.

Rhayne hugs her own arms.

"I don’t know."

I take out my phone.

I have a number that can turn a question like that into information much faster than any public terminal.

I call Garen.

It rings.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Nothing.

I let it ring a few more seconds before hanging up.

"No answer?" Rhayne asks.

"No."

I look at the screen.

"He’s probably in Thirstfall."

I look for another contact.

Masters Series Corp.

The first time I walked into that building, I had to get through a lobby where a receptionist almost threw me out before she found out who I was there for. Today I have no intention of going up a hundred and seventeen floors.

I just need someone on the other end to do the work for me.

I place the call.

The answer comes fast.

"Masters Series Corporation, good afternoon. How may I help you?"

"I need to speak to one of Mr. Azurea’s assistants. It’s urgent."

There’s a small pause.

"Who’s calling?"

"Mr. Sands."

Another pause.

Shorter this time.

"Dryden Sands?"

"Yes."

"One moment, please."

The transfer happens immediately.

No questions about the reason.

No scheduling.

No attempt to talk me into sending an email.

That’s new.

While I wait, Rhayne moves a few steps away. She goes up to the metal barrier and tries to see inside through a gap between the panels.

The call connects.

"Mr. Sands."

Male voice.

Professional.

In the background, I hear a woman speaking quietly.

"What does he want?"

The man seems to move the handset away a little.

"How can I help you?"

"Before we start, what’s your name?"

There’s a small hesitation.

"Elias Shaw, sir. Executive assistant to President Azurea."

"All right, Shaw. I need you to look into a company called Halcyon Civic Development."

On the other end, silence.

Not long.

But enough.

"Halcyon," he repeats.

"That’s right."

I walk a few steps while I watch Rhayne at the fence.

"They acquired a property in District 3. I want to know when they bought it, who they bought it from, what the justification for the condemnation was, and everything that happened to the institution that operated here before."

"Which institution?"

"An orphanage."

I hear keys.

"Address?"

I look at the street sign.

"District 3. Esmeralda Quarter. Acacia Street, nine twenty-one."

More keys.

"Understood."

"I want the acquisition date, the previous owner, the eviction authorization, where the staff and the children went, whether the institution was transferred, whether it changed names, and which agency authorized the sale."

Shaw stays quiet while he takes it down.

"I also want Halcyon’s corporate structure and any company connected to the operation of that property."

The woman’s voice comes up in the background again.

"Did he say Halcyon?"

Shaw answers something I can’t make out.

Then he comes back to me.

"I can pull that, but it won’t be immediate."

"I can’t stay on the line."

I look at Rhayne.

She’s near a demolished section of the fence, trying to recognize a corridor behind a broken wall.

"Send me everything by message at this number as soon as you have it."

"Confirming, the number you’re calling from?"

"Yes."

"All right. I’ll put the request through."

"Thank you, Shaw."

"Mr. Sands."

He sounds like he’s about to say something.

I wait.

"Never mind. We’ll be in touch."

The call ends.

I put the phone away.

Rhayne is still near the blocked entrance.

I go over to her.

"Want to go in?"

She looks at me like the question is absurd.

"Go in?"

"Yes."

"Den, we can’t."

She points at the chain strung between two posts.

"It’s private property now."

I look at the chain.

Then at her.

"Says who?"

I find a point where the old links were closed with a newer metal seal. I brace my foot against the base of the barrier, wrap part of the chain around my hand, and pull.

The first effort only makes the metal groan.

On the second, the rusted bracket gives.

The chain hits the ground with a flat thud.

Rhayne’s eyes go wide.

"Den..."

"If anybody complains, you say you tried to stop me."

"I did try."

"Perfect. We already have a reliable witness."

I step over the chain.

She stares at me for a few seconds before following.

The inside of the building changes the feeling of the street entirely.

The light disappears fast.

Most of the windows were covered with external panels, and the ones still open let in only narrow bands of brightness between dust and broken concrete. The power is off. The air smells of old wood, plaster, and trapped damp.

Our steps make short echoes through the corridors.

Rhayne walks more slowly now.

Not because of her legs.

She looks at the spaces like someone trying to find people inside them.

We pass a long room where children’s chairs are still stacked against a wall. There are pale marks on the floor showing where larger furniture sat for years before it was removed. Further on, a door stands open to a room that’s practically empty.

Rhayne stops.

"This was the study room."

I look inside.

Two broken tables are left.

A child’s drawing is still taped to the wall with old tape.

She moves on before I can say anything.

In the next corridor, she touches a doorknob.

"This door always stuck."

She tries to open it.

The door resists exactly as promised.

Rhayne lets out a short breath through her nose.

It doesn’t quite become a laugh.

We keep going.

The old kitchen is at the back.

I recognize it by the different flooring before we even walk in. Some cabinets are still on the walls, doors open and shelves empty. There’s a long counter in the center and an old refrigerator unplugged near the wall.

Rhayne looks around the room.

"They left a lot behind."

"Whatever had no resale value."

I go over to the refrigerator.

There are papers held on by magnets.

A shopping list.

Two old notices.

A calendar.

I run a finger down the page.

Some days have small marks. Others are circled. There are notes about deliveries and names written in the margins.

Then it simply stops.

I do the math.

"This place didn’t close when you went into Diving."

Rhayne comes closer.

"How do you know?"

I point at the calendar.

"Look at the last mark."

She looks.

"Six months ago..."

"Yes, roughly."

Rhayne stares at the page.

"I’ve been submerged about eight months."

"Right."

I run my eyes over the notes.

"If this calendar really tracked the kitchen’s routine and nobody just stopped filling it in for some other reason, the orphanage probably kept running for about two months after your Dive."

She looks at me.

"You can tell that from a calendar?"

"Inference helps more often than you’d think."

I point again.

"It’s a lead. Not proof. But somebody marked almost every day for months and then the notes ended all at once. The kitchen probably stopped operating around that time."

Rhayne touches the last mark with her fingertip.

"So they were still here."

"Probably."

She stands there a few seconds looking at the date.

Then she lifts her face toward the corridor.

"My room was upstairs."

"Second floor?"

"Yes."

"Then let’s look. We need to check."

Rhayne hesitates.

"Check for what?"

"Whether they left anything behind or threw it all out. Whether there’s something you can still use."

She looks at the stairs at the end of the corridor.

"It’s dark."

"Watch your step."

I use the flashlight on my phone.

"Technology."

She gives me a sideways look.

"Impressive. Do you need applause?"

"I’ve waited eighteen years for this moment."

The comment pulls a small laugh out of her.

That’s enough for me.

We go up.

The second floor is in worse shape. Parts of the corridor have wide cracks, and sections of the ceiling lining have already come down onto the floor. The accumulated dust records our footprints as we go, while webs occupy the corners and the frames of doors nobody has opened in months.

Rhayne takes the lead without having to think about the route. She passes two rooms, then a third, slowing as she approaches the next door. There’s still a small label stuck to the wood, plain, with no decoration on it.

RHAYNE

She stares at her own name for a few seconds. I don’t say anything. Rhayne takes the handle and opens the door slowly.

The room is almost exactly as she left it.

A thin layer of dust covers the bed, the nightstand, the desk, and the chair pushed against the wall. Some webs have formed near the window, where narrow bands of light manage to get past the panels installed outside. Despite the state of the building, nobody seems to have come in here to strip the room.

The bed is still made. A book sits on the desk, a small box occupies the same corner of the wall, and a jacket still hangs behind the door.

Rhayne steps in slowly and runs her fingers across the surface of the desk, leaving a clean line in the dust. She touches the cover of the book without moving it, then goes to the bed and presses her palm against the blanket, as if she needs to confirm that these things really did keep waiting for her.

I stay near the door and let her take the room at her own pace.

She opens the small box, looks at what’s inside for a few seconds, and closes it again. When she turns to look at the rest of the room, her attention catches on something on the nightstand.

An envelope.

Rhayne goes over and picks it up. There’s dust on the paper, but the layer is thinner than what’s built up on the furniture, as if someone put it there some time after she left.

She turns the envelope over in her fingers, studying it and showing it to me at the same time. There’s no sender, no indication of origin, and the flap is still sealed.

"This wasn’t here."

I move a little closer.

"You’re sure?"

"I’m sure."

Rhayne opens the envelope carefully and takes out a sheet folded in half. Her eyes run over the first lines, and the change in her expression arrives before I can ask what she found.

"Rhayne?"

She doesn’t seem to hear me. She keeps reading in silence until her lips start following the words on the paper.

"’If you ever see this letter, little Rhayne...’"

Her voice breaks for a moment. She tightens her grip on the page, breathes, and forces her eyes to keep going.

"’I won’t be among you anymore.’"

I stay quiet while she looks for the end of the message. When she finds the signature, she spends a few seconds looking at it before saying the name, almost without voice.

"Arthur..."