Page 55 of Lunar Bound
As they were separated, Lunar being led deeper into the shadow levels while Solar and Dani were escorted toward the Twilight Belt, he felt a strange calm settling over him. The council believed they could contain him through traditional means, shadow barriers, energy-dampening fields, and constant surveillance. They did not understand how Earth had changed him.
In his assigned chamber, a space designed for shadow-dwellers to regenerate in perfect darkness, Lunar allowed his essence to expand fully for the first time since leaving Earth. He reached outward, sensing the Citadel's security systems, the movement of guards, the energy patterns that regulated access to different levels.
And beneath it all, he felt a faint resonance, a distant warmth that he had carried with him across the stars. Poppy's energy signature, permanently etched into his own.
I will return to you, he promised silently. Not as a shadow operative following mission parameters, but as Lunar, who loves Poppy Jensen with every particle of his existence.
For the first time in his life, duty and desire aligned perfectly. And nothing in the universe would stop him from finding his way back to her.
Chapter
Sixteen
Poppy awoke, reaching for something that wasn't there.
She'd done this every morning for thirty-seven days. Her hand stretched across the cot, fingers seeking the cool darkness that had once enveloped her while she slept. Each time, the empty space beside her felt like a physical blow.
Dawn light filtered through the cabin's heavy curtains. She kept them closed because brightness hurt in ways she couldn't explain. She preferred shadows now. They reminded her of him.
"You're up early," Rowan observed from the small kitchen table where she sat nursing a cup of coffee. Eclipse's twilight form hovered protectively beside her.
"Couldn't sleep," Poppy mumbled, though it was only partially true. She'd slept, but her dreams had been filled with Lunar. His star-patterned darkness had wrapped around her, and his cool touch had been a tease against her skin. Waking from those dreams was always worse than not sleeping at all.
"Eclipse made oatmeal," Rowan offered. "There's cinnamon."
Poppy nodded her thanks, though food held little appeal these days. She went through the motions anyway, spooning the warm cereal into a bowl and sitting across from them. Rowan and Eclipse exchanged one of those looks that said they were worried about her again.
"I'm fine," she said before they could start. "Just tired."
"You were working on the array until three," Eclipse noted, his twilight essence pulsing with what she'd learned was concern. "The transmission probability remains unchanged since yesterday."
The array. Her lifeline to sanity. A cobbled-together mess of salvaged electronics, modified radio equipment, and parts Eclipse had helped her design based on Zorveyan communication principles. For five weeks, she'd devoted every spare moment to building it, fine-tuning it, sending signals into the void.
"I modified the frequency modulator," she explained, stirring her oatmeal without eating it. "Thought maybe we were missing his bandwidth."
They didn't answer, which was answer enough. They thought she was wasting her time, that Lunar was gone forever, that the council would never let him return. They were too kind to say it directly, but she could see it in Rowan's sympathetic glances and Eclipse's careful explanations of Zorveyan politics.
"I'm going to check on the south perimeter," she announced, abandoning her breakfast. She couldn't bear their pity today.
Outside, the morning air held autumn's first bite. The forest surrounding their hidden cabin had begun its seasonal transformation, green giving way to gold and crimson. When they'd first arrived here, fleeing Milano's pursuit, the trees had been in full summer glory. Now they were preparing for winter.
How much time would pass before she saw him again? Would seasons change? Would she grow old waiting?
Poppy pushed the thought away. She wouldn't allow herself to think like that. Not today.
She walked the narrow trail that formed their security perimeter, checking the simple alarm systems they'd rigged among the trees. Eclipse could sense approaching threats better than any technology, but they maintained the alarms as backup and to give Poppy something tactical to focus on.
A shadow moved differently from the others, drawing her attention to a clearing. For one heart-stopping moment, she thought—hoped—it was Lunar. But it was just a deer, browsing on fallen leaves before bounding away at her approach.
Her disappointment was a physical ache, a hollow feeling beneath her ribs that never quite went away. She'd tried to explain it to Rowan once, this constant sensation of missing something vital.
"It's like he took part of me with him," she'd said. "Like there's an actual piece missing."
Rowan had nodded, understanding in a way only someone who'd connected with a Zorveyan could. "Eclipse says they leave energy signatures on compatible beings. A kind of resonance."
Resonance. That was as good a word as any for this phantom connection, this sense that despite light years of separation, some thread still stretched between them.
Sometimes, in the deepest part of night when she worked on the array, she could almost feel Lunar's presence. It was a brief coolness against her skin, a shifting in the shadows that had nothing to do with Earth physics. In those moments, she would hold perfectly still, afraid that the slightest movement might break whatever fragile connection remained.
