The door sealed behind them with a quiet groan of timber.
Arthur's fingers lingered at the latch only a moment before he stepped fully into the wide room, coat trailing behind him. Lanterns flickered gently overhead, held steady by the stabilizers worked into the beams, casting warm arcs across the ship's unclaimed heart. Arthur's eyes passed over them once functional, for now. But they wouldn't last long. He'd replace them soon, one by one, with proper beastcores. Light that responded to presence, not oil.
Lyn watched without speaking.
She had seen his work before. But this wasn't that. This was something far more interesting.
Arthur moved toward the central stand, where the cradle waited. The beastcore rested in his grip like it belonged to the world and nothing else. Its pale surface shimmered faintly in rhythm with his steps.
He placed it gently on the floor beside the cradle.
