Chapter 90 - Iron and Ember
Khisa stood at the edge of the shipyard, watching sparks fly into the night as hammers struck steel. The rhythmic clang of metal against metal echoed like war drums across the coast. Fires roared in clay forges, casting flickering light on soot-covered faces. This was no longer a makeshift camp. It was a fortress being born.
The moon hung high, casting pale silver across the water. Timber logs were stacked beside scaffolding; the skeletons of new ships jutted from the ground like ribs of sleeping beasts.
But the true forge was not the fire—it was the discipline. Training had resumed, harsher and harder than before. The soldiers trained day and night, skin blistered from salt and sun, muscles sore from dragging timber and hammering hulls.
Khisa watched them push themselves to the edge of exhaustion. He couldn’t help but remember a simpler time.
A sun-drenched field. Children’s laughter echoing as bricks dried in neat rows. He remembered Ndengu lifting three bricks at once, showing off to the younger ones, and Naliaka leaping between them like a dancer. He remembered peace.
But peace would not save them now.
"Ayaan," he said quietly.
[Yes, Khisa?]
"I need a training regiment. Navy SEAL level. In my past life, America had some of the best navies in the world. I’ll use every method to survive this."
[Of course, Khisa. I’ll also add training to recognize sea patterns, currents, and coastal winds. If we control the water, we control our future.]
"Thank you, Ayaan."