Chapter 16
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.
Poppy completed her circuit of the perimeter and headed back toward the cabin. The modified scanner she always carried detected no sign of Milano's specialized equipment. They'd been careful, changing locations twice before finding this abandoned ranger outpost. So far, it had remained secure.
Eclipse met her at the cabin door, his twilight form pulsing with what might have been excitement.
"Rowan has made contact with a journalist," he said without preamble. "Someone who might help expose Milano's operations."
Poppy nodded, processing this development. "Is it safe?"
"We are taking extensive precautions," Eclipse assured her. "Anonymous data drops, encrypted communications."
"Good." Exposing Milano had become their shared mission, something to focus on besides waiting and worrying. "I have some photos from the extraction site we could include. The weapons they were using weren't standard military issue."
Inside, Rowan was sorting through files, her reporter's training evident in her methodical approach. She looked up when Poppy entered, her expression softening.
"How's the perimeter?"
"Secure," Poppy reported, then hesitated. "I think I felt something again last night. Through the array. I think it was his energy calling out to me."
Rowan set down her files. "What kind of something?"
"A pattern in the static. Soft clicks." Poppy tried to keep the desperate hope from her voice. "It could have been interference, but..."
"I will examine the recording," Eclipse offered, his twilight essence rippling with encouragement.
"Thanks." Poppy managed a small smile. She appreciated that they never dismissed her hunches outright, even when they seemed far-fetched. "I'll be in my room for a bit."
Her room was barely more than a closet, but it had space for her cot and the small table that held her most precious possessions.
There was a collection of shadow stones she'd gathered, similar to the ones she'd given Lunar.
Next to those was a shirt she'd been wearing when he'd enveloped her in his essence, now folded carefully as if it might still contain traces of him.
And, finally, a small notebook filled with calculations and frequency notations for the array.
Poppy sat on the edge of her cot, reaching for the largest of the shadow stones. Black tourmaline, cool and weighty in her palm. She closed her eyes, letting her consciousness drift the way she had when connecting with Lunar.
"Where are you?" she whispered to the emptiness. "Are you thinking of me?"
The stone remained inert, offering no answers. Yet sometimes, when she held it just right, she imagined she could feel a distant echo of his energy, a ghost of the connection they'd shared.
Was it real or just desperate wishful thinking? She couldn't tell anymore.
Hours passed as Poppy alternated between helping Rowan organize evidence against Milano and working on her array.
The routine was familiar now. First, she’d check the frequencies, then adjust the calibration, send a signal pattern, listen for any response, and repeat.
Logically, she knew the chances of reaching across light years with cobbled-together Earth technology were infinitesimal.
But logic had little to do with why she kept trying.
As evening fell, Eclipse prepared dinner while Rowan continued sorting through files.
Their domesticity would have been comical under different circumstances, an alien diplomat cooking pasta while a fugitive journalist built a case against a shadowy corporation.
Somehow, they'd found normalcy in their shared abnormal situation.
"You should eat something real," Rowan said when she caught Poppy grabbing an energy bar instead of joining them at the table. "Eclipse actually makes decent pasta now."
"Only minor molecular combustion occurred during preparation," Eclipse added in what Poppy recognized as his attempt at humor.
She smiled despite herself. "I'll eat. I just need to check one more frequency adjustment."
The array waited in what had once been a storage room, now transformed into her makeshift communications center.
Solar panels on the cabin roof powered it, while a complex arrangement of antennas on the surrounding trees boosted its signal.
Eclipse had helped with the design, incorporating elements of Zorveyan technology using Earth components.
Poppy adjusted the final dial and sent out the same signal she'd been transmitting for weeks. The pulses meant nothing to her, but Eclipse assured her Lunar would understand them.
Static answered her, as it always did. She was about to switch it off when something changed in the sound. There was a barely perceptible shift in the white noise, a patterned clicking where there should be none.
Her heart raced as she adjusted the reception frequency, trying to isolate the signal. For a moment, she thought she'd imagined it. Then it came again, clearer this time.
Three pulses. Pause. Three pulses.
"Eclipse," she yelled, her voice cracking with sudden emotion. "Eclipse, I need you!"
He appeared almost instantly, his twilight essence flowing through the doorway with liquid grace. "What is it?"
"Listen," she urged, adjusting the volume so the faint signal became audible.
Eclipse's form went absolutely still, his twilight essence contracting with what might have been shock. "That is a Zorveyan distress protocol."
"Is it—" Poppy couldn't finish the question, afraid of both possible answers.
"The energy signature is shadow-based," Eclipse confirmed, moving closer to the equipment. "It is similar to Lunar's pattern, though distorted by distance."
Poppy's legs gave out, and she sank onto the chair, her hands shaking. "He's alive. He's trying to reach us."
"It appears so," Eclipse agreed, his normally measured tone carrying a hint of excitement. "The transmission is coming from Zorveyan space, but it has been modified to penetrate Earth's atmosphere. Most interesting."
"Can we respond? Can we let him know we received it?"
Eclipse considered the array's capabilities, his essence pulsing as he calculated. "Perhaps. With modifications to boost the return signal."
Rowan appeared in the doorway, drawn by the commotion. "What's happening?"
"It's Lunar," Poppy said, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. "He's sending a signal."
The next hours passed in a blur of activity. Eclipse guided Poppy through modifications to the array while Rowan gathered additional power sources to boost their transmission. They worked with frantic purpose, afraid the faint connection might vanish as suddenly as it had appeared.
When they were ready, Poppy's hands hovered over the transmitter, suddenly uncertain. What if it wasn't him? What if they were giving away their location to Milano or some other threat?
"The energy signature matches," Eclipse reassured her, sensing her hesitation. "And the transmission pattern is one only Lunar would know to use."
She nodded, took a deep breath, and sent their reply. It was the same pattern, followed by a series of pulses that Eclipse said would register as an Earth coordinate signature.
Then they waited.
Minutes stretched into an hour with no response. Poppy's initial elation began to fade into doubt. Had they imagined it? Had the connection been lost?
Just as she was about to give up, the static cleared for two seconds, and through the speakers came a single word, distorted but unmistakable:
"Coming."
Poppy stared at the array in shock, tears filling her eyes. "Did you hear that?"
Rowan squeezed her shoulder. "We heard it."
"He's coming back," Poppy whispered, as if saying it too loudly might make it untrue. "He's actually coming back."
Eclipse's twilight essence pulsed with cautious optimism. "It would appear so, though the logistics of such a journey are extraordinarily complex. The council would not easily permit his return."
"But he found a way," Poppy insisted, clinging to the single word like a lifeline. "He promised he would, and he found a way."
That night, Poppy lay on her cot staring at the ceiling, sleep impossible despite her exhaustion. One word played through her mind on endless repeat.
Coming.
She reached for the shadow stone beside her bed, clutching it to her chest. For the first time in thirty-seven days, the hollow feeling beneath her ribs had eased slightly. The missing piece hadn't returned, but now there was something else in its place.
Hope.
Outside her window, the night shadows seemed to pulse with new life, as if responding to her changed emotional state. Poppy watched them, imagining Lunar moving through them, his star patterns swirling as he found his way back to her across impossible distances.
"I'm waiting," she whispered to the darkness. "However long it takes, I'll be here."
The shadow stone in her hand seemed to grow warmer, though she knew it was probably just her own body heat. Still, she liked to imagine it was responding to her words, carrying them across the void to where Lunar might somehow hear them.
The missing piece of her remained missing, but now she understood. He hadn't taken it with him. He'd left it with her, a part of his essence embedded in hers, waiting to be made whole again when he returned.
Coming, the darkness seemed to whisper back. Coming home to you.