Chapter 46: The Mark and the Moon
It was time to return.
Frank had considered staying behind in the Garden, lingering in the only place that had come to feel like peace—but that wasn't an option. His team was returning to Earth, and although he didn't admit it aloud, he missed home. He missed his mother, the normality of her voice, and the world he'd left behind.
Out of the 50 people who had traveled to the Core, only 20 remained.
The rest… had died, been mutated, or gone mad. Some, Frank knew, had simply chosen never to leave.
Ironically, it was his habit of dropping weeds and plants at their camp that had tipped them over their assigned quota. Thanks to that, they could leave early.
At first, he planned to stay behind while the others left. But Earth was calling. He hadn't seen his family in years. He could reapply for another mission cycle in a year—if he still wanted to return.
So, he packed his bags and boarded the ship.
The journey back wasn't smooth.
Unlike the relatively uneventful trip to the Core, the return was plagued by complications. Midway through, they hit a storm—an asteroid belt tangled with magnetic anomalies. They were forced to drift for a week in low-power mode until it cleared.
It took them one month to reach Earth's orbit, even at superluminal speeds.
As Earth came into view, nestled beside its familiar moon, the illusion fell away.
From afar, the moon looked barren—a dead rock.
But as they descended, its true surface shimmered into view. Vast structures revealed themselves: domes, towers, defensive satellites, and dock stations anchored into the crust like metallic vines.
They landed at a station called The Bee.
Due to past mishaps—pandemics, plagues, and pathogen outbreaks—everyone had to go through triple quarantine before setting foot on Earth. Even one idiot skipping screening in the past had cost millions of lives.
Each of them was placed in a personal chamber, tested for mana contamination, mutations, and alien bio-signatures.
Frank's team passed. No issues. No infections.
For the first time in two years, he slept without clutching a blade.
The moon was a strange in-between.
Not quite Earth. Not quite alien.
But it had service.
Frank called his mother, and for a few minutes, the universe felt small again. He had left her money before departing, set up automated transfers, and now he asked, "Do you need anything?"
"No," she said. "Just come home."
The news, however, revealed something was off.
Earth had changed.
So had the Moon.
He hadn't noticed it earlier, but now he did: the Moon Base was more crowded, filled with species he didn't recognize—horned beings, radiant figures, machines that walked like men.
At first, he thought they were visitors.
Then he noticed the giant spaceships docked above and around the moon's surface. Scanners floated past, cataloging everything. Even he was eventually scanned—though being part of the Okolis fleet gave him clearance.
Still, something was different.
Then he noticed it: the Dryads.
There were more of them now, and when they looked at him, their eyes softened. Reverent. Curious. Warm.
One even bowed.
That had never happened before.
It wasn't until later, staring at his reflection in a decontamination chamber, that he saw it—a subtle marking, like a vine etched in silver, trailing up his neck.
A Dryad's mark.
He had no memory of receiving it.