For the next few days, this became their rhythm.
Luke and Ilyrana would arrive at the hidden dock not long after morning light crept into the cove, sleeves rolled, hair tied back, minds already prepared for labour rather than theory. There were no speeches, no grand planning sessions to open the day. Just work—steady, repetitive, and surprisingly intimate in how it forced them to understand the ship piece by piece.
At first glance, it might have looked like nothing had changed. The same hull. The same deck. The same tired vessel named Hope, floating patiently in the water. But the longer they worked, the clearer it became that these days mattered more than anyone had expected.
To Luke and Ilyrana, every task was a lesson.
