Page 52 of Lunar Bound
A novice error. An unforgivable oversight. A failure.
His failure.
"You know what your real problem is?" Dani asked, interrupting his spiral of self-recrimination.
"Please enlighten me," he replied, allowing a thread of sarcasm to enter his tone. It was a habit acquired from Poppy.
"You're mad at yourself because you didn't tell her you loved her."
The accusation struck with precision, sending shock waves through his shadow essence. His form wavered momentarily before he regained control.
"That terminology is imprecise," he managed.
Dani smiled sadly. "No, it's not. And you know it. You love her. You just didn't say it."
She was correct, of course. In those final moments before the extraction field had claimed him, he had spoken of altered states and resonance frequencies. He had used the clinical language of shadow intelligence rather than the simple Earth words that might have comforted her.
I love you.
Three syllables. So small, yet containing multitudes.
"I told her I would return," he said instead.
"That's something, at least." Dani pushed off from the viewport. "And we will go back. All of us. Just, you know, don't shut down until then, okay? Poppy wouldn't want that."
After she left, Lunar remained at the viewport, stars streaking past as the ship approached Zorveya. He allowed himself, just for a moment, to imagine what he should have said.
"I love you, Poppy Jensen. Not as a tactical advantage or a statistical anomaly, but simply, completely, as one being to another. I love your perception, your courage, your warmth. I love how you move through darkness without fear, how you reached for my shadows when others would have recoiled. I will return to you, not because duty demands it, but because existence without you is incomplete."
The words formed perfectly in his consciousness, where they could no longer reach her.
He should have said it. All of it.
Four more days passed before Zorveya appeared on the ship's sensors. The tidal-locked planet hung in space like a visual representation of conflict. One hemisphere blazed with eternal day, the other was shrouded in perpetual night, and between them was the narrow twilight band where Eclipse had lived.
"Home sweet home," Solar remarked as they prepared for planetary approach. His tone suggested the designation was as inaccurate for him as it now felt for Lunar.
"The council has acknowledged our arrival," Gary announced, checking the communication panel. "They have instructed us to proceed directly to the Shadow Chambers for debriefing."
"That is unexpected," Lunar observed. Protocol dictated initial processing through neutral Twilight Belt facilities.
"They are eager for your intelligence regarding Earth," Solar said. "The darkness will be unpleasant, but I did not protest the landing coordinates. I know you must be eager to finish your mission so we can return."
The gesture was not lost on Lunar.
"Perhaps," Lunar agreed.
As they descended through Zorveya's atmosphere toward the dark side of the planet, Lunar felt the familiar pull of his homeworld's energy patterns. The shadowed territory of Lunaris welcomed him. The perfect darkness a balm after the excessive light of Earth and the artificial illumination of the Galaxy Brides vessel.
Yet something had changed. Where once he had found the absolute darkness comforting, now it felt meaningless. Lacking the subtle variations of Earth's night, the interplay of moonlight and shadow that had created such complex patterns. Lacking Poppy's warmth to define its edges.
The landing platform extended from the Council Citadel, a massive structure built into the side of a mountain range that further shielded it from any stray light from the Twilight Belt. As they disembarked, Lunar noted the formal reception. Six council representatives waited with their shadow essences condensed into ceremonial configurations.
"Intelligence Specialist Lunar," the head councilor acknowledged. "Your return is noted with appropriate recognition."
The formal greeting followed shadow protocol perfectly, yet Lunar found himself craving the informal warmth of Earth greetings. A simple "welcome home" or even Poppy's casual "hey you" would have carried more genuine connection than this ritualized acknowledgment.
"Light-Dweller Solar and Earth-Entity Dani," the councilor continued, with noticeably less enthusiasm. "Your presence is accommodated."
