Luna Eclipse

The cake sat in the center of the kitchen table, sixteen candles flickering in the afternoon light.

Luna stared at the flames. Something felt off. Wrong. The air tasted sharp. Metallic.

"Make a wish, mija," her mother said from across the table.

Luna leaned forward. The candles seemed too bright. She could hear them. Actually hear them. The tiny hiss and crackle of wax melting. The whisper of flame consuming oxygen.

When had she started hearing things like that?

She closed her eyes and blew.

The room erupted in cheers. Her little brother Diego whooped. Her father clapped. Miguel squeezed her shoulder from where he stood behind her chair, and several of her friends from school laughed and whistled.

The touch burned.

Luna flinched. Just slightly. But Miguel noticed.

"You okay?" he whispered.

She forced a smile and looked up at him. "Yeah. Just startled me."

Lie. She wasn't startled. His hand on her shoulder felt like heat. Like pressure. Like too much.

Her mother started cutting the cake. Chocolate with vanilla frosting. Luna's favorite since she was six.

But when the plate landed in front of her, the smell hit like a wave.

Too sweet. Too strong. Overwhelming.

She could identify everything. Flour. Sugar. Cocoa powder. Eggs. Butter. Vanilla extract. Even the baking soda. She could smell all of it separately and together and it was too much.

"Luna?" Her friend Jenna leaned across the table. "Girl, you look pale. You feeling sick?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure? Because you look like you're about to pass out."

"I'm fine," Luna repeated. Her voice came out sharper than she intended.

Jenna held up her hands. "Okay, okay. Just checking."

Luna picked up her fork. Her wrist itched. She scratched at it absently with her other hand, then froze.

Something was wrong with her skin.

She pulled her hand into her lap under the table and twisted her wrist toward the light streaming through the kitchen window.

A mark.

Faint silver lines. Barely visible. But there. And they were getting brighter.

The pattern looked like a crescent moon with shadow bleeding into it. Something sat at the center. An eye maybe? She couldn't tell. It was too small. Too faint.

But it was glowing.

On her wrist.

Growing brighter with each second.

"Luna."

Her father's voice. Low. Serious. Not his birthday party voice.

She looked up.

He wasn't smiling anymore. He was staring at her lap. At where her hands were hidden.

"Show me your wrist."

The table went quiet. All conversation stopped. Diego stopped eating. Miguel straightened behind her. Jenna and the other friends looked between Luna and her father with confusion written across their faces.

Luna's throat tightened. "What?"

"Your wrist, Luna. Put it on the table. Now."

Her hands were shaking. She could feel them trembling as she slowly lifted her right hand and placed it palm down on the tablecloth.

The mark pulsed with pale silver light.

Her mother made a sound. Sharp and broken. Like someone had