The Lumen never returned.

  Outpost Theta fell silent. The biodome cracked. The crystal flowers withered.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  But sometimes, on the edge of sleep, Voss hears it—a distant hum, a flicker of gold in the dust.

  She leaves offerings now: a lock of Mira’s hair, a rusted wrench, a dried Earth leaf.

  “I’m sorry too,” she whispers to the dark.

  And in her dreams, the light still weeps.