Page 22 of Larz

As the ceremony drew to a close and we walked away from the circle, Larz gestured toward the vast expanse above us. “Our moon is more than a celestial body; it’s a guide for our spirits.”

“How so?”

“Its phases remind us that change is constant,” he continued. “We draw strength from its light—it fuels our technology, heals our sick, guides our path.”

I looked up at it then, trying to see it through his eyes—not just as Earth’s companion lost to me now, but as something more mystical.

“It sounds like your moon is alive,” I mused.

“It is,” he agreed. “It’s alive with the memories of those who came before us.”

We sat on a smooth boulder overlooking a valley bathed in silvery light. Larz seemed contemplative as he gazed at the horizon where moonscape met the sky.

“My father brought me here when I was young,” he shared quietly. “He told me stories about our ancestors’ first glimpse of this moon—how they vowed to protect its beauty and harness its power responsibly.”

I listened intently, feeling closer to him with each word.

“Tell me about Earth,” he blurted.

I hesitated before speaking. Memories flooded back—the good intertwined with the unbearable pain of loss.

“Earth had blue skies,” I began tentatively, “and oceans so vast you couldn’t see where they ended.” My voice cracked slightly as images of home danced behind my eyes.

“Go on,” Larz encouraged gently.

“There were mountains that touched the clouds and deserts, with sands that glowed under the sun like fields of gold.” A smile touched my lips as I remembered more vividly now—the soundof rain against window sills or leaves rustling in an autumn breeze.

“Sounds beautiful,” Larz murmured.

“It was,” I agreed before taking a deep breath. “But we didn’t protect it like your people have done with your moon.” Regret laced my words; guilt still clung to me like a second skin for humanity’s mistakes.

Larz reached out tentatively to touch my hand—a gesture so human it made my chest tighten with emotion.

“We can learn from each other,” he said firmly. “Your memories can help us appreciate what we have even more.”

His words comforted me—offered hope that maybe not everything from Earth had to be lost forever. We sat together in silence then—a warrior from another world and an Earth girl who’d traversed galaxies—united by shared experiences under an alien moonlight that somehow felt like home.

Larz and I wandered back from the sacred stones, our footsteps a silent language in the moonscape’s dust. He led me to a place where Zorvian flora reached for the sky, their leaves shimmering with a bioluminescence that painted our surroundings in hues of violet and green.

“It’s like walking through a dream,” I murmured, my fingers grazing the soft luminescent petals.

He nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon as if he were searching for words in the stars. “Sometimes, I forget how new this all must be for you.”

“It’s not just new,” I admitted. “It’s overwhelming. Your world is so different from what I’ve known.”

“And yet you adapt,” he observed, leaning against a tree with bark that glowed like moonstone. “Your kind is resilient.”

I chuckled without humor. “We had little choice. It was adapt or...” My voice trailed off, unable to voice the stark reality we had escaped.

Larz’s expression softened, his silver eyes reflecting an understanding that went beyond words. “Or perish,” he finished for me.

We shared a silence then, both lost in our thoughts until I broke it with a question that had been gnawing at me. “How do we bridge this gap between us? Our worlds are colliding, and it’s not just about survival anymore.”

He considered this, his gaze turning inward. “It is complex,” he finally said. “Our deeply rooted ways are just as yours are. But roots can intertwine—grow together.”

“I want to believe that,” I said, “but there are those among my people who can’t let go of their fear and prejudice.”

“And among mine as well,” Larz conceded. “Fear can be a powerful barrier.”

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