It was a full moon tonight. Soft, bright, and it almost seemed like it was pulling her closer. She’d always loved the moon, it just felt so… comforting. Like a mother coming in for a hug, or a cake coming out of the oven, or maybe a blanket wrapping around when she was cold. Luna pondered the possibilities for a while, letting herself soak in the moonlight. There were so many ideas, so many thoughts, that other people simply didn’t notice. “But I do. That’s all that counts.” Noah had taught her that when other kids teased her about her ideas. Even though they were only twins minutes apart, Noah had always felt older, stronger somehow. “But I do. That’s all that counts.” she whispered again into the night. Luna had always thought she and Noah looked like the moon and its shadow. They were twins, but they felt so different. She was pale and soft-featured, with long waves of dark brown hair that shimmered in the light. Her eyes were turquoise—bright, curious, and just a little too wide, like she was always on the edge of discovering something. Noah had the same eyes. But they were different somehow. Even though they were both 15, his features felt older. Sharper. Like they’d seen things he wouldn’t talk about. His hair was darker, messier, always looked like he just went for a swim. Their jawlines matched. Their smiles didn’t. They both had the scar. Faint, crescent-shaped, tucked near the wrist like a secret. His was smaller, but still there. Almost like he was trying to hide something. However, she wasn’t going to let that ruin this perfect moment. Leaning against the big oak tree, she pulled out her journal. She wrote- Things I Love About Right Now: The way the moonlight makes everything look like a dream The smell of grass after sunset The fact that Noah made tea without asking The quiet She believed in the little wonders of life, small victories that got her through difficult times. She glanced at her arm, her eyes lingering on the faint crescent scar. She didn’t remember where it came from, it had been there for just about forever. Luna had been ashamed of the scar. She hid it and wore long sleeves. Feeling the wind breeze against her bare arms, she realized how far she had come. “They didn’t break me.” It was hard sometimes with all the teasing, but the scar felt special now. It was a part of her, just a birthmark. An applaud to her name. Luna stretched her arms as she walked into the kitchen. A sweet and herbal scent filled the air as Noah poured the tea. Sinking into the nearest chair, she gave her twin a grateful smile. “Chamomile tea,” he said, not looking up. “You remembered.” Noah shrugged. “You drink it everyday.” “Still, thank you.” He flashed her a sliver of a smile, handing her a mug. He lowered into the chair next to her, and she leaned into his shoulder. He placed an arm around her and let out a sigh. She felt warm inside, feeling his protective energy. He stroked her check as they both took a sip of the warm tea. She felt a tingle as the liquid hit her tongue with an earthy sweetness. Luna let the warmth settle in her chest, the tea grounding her like roots in soil. She glanced at Noah’s wrist, where his sleeve had slipped just enough to reveal a faint shimmer. The same scar, hidden, and faint. “How did we get these scars?” she asked quietly. He stiffened, “They're just birthmarks.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Luna looked at him for a second, her eyes begging him to say more. When he didn’t, she decided to leave it at that as they drank the rest of their tea in silence. Curling up in bed she traced her finger along her scar, more aware than ever that it perfectly matched her name. Was it meant to be there? Was it not a birth mark, but a mark of her? How did she get it if it wasn’t a birthmark? She smushed her face into a pillow. Luna was stuck between wishing she could have the answers and being terrified to know at the same time. What if the truth changed everything? Or maybe even ruin everything. But Noah had the scar too, so it couldn’t be about her right? “Ugh! Just stop with the questions!” she screamed into her quiet room. Her shout echoed off the wall. She buried her face deeper into the pillow, her breath shaky as she felt tears fall down her cheeks. (Continued in Notes and Credits)
A soft knock tapped against her door. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. It creaked open anyway, slow and careful. Noah appeared in the moonlight, his hair messy, his eyes gentle. “You okay?” he asked, voice low. Luna didn’t move. “I’m fine.” He stepped closer, then sat at the edge of her bed. “I heard you talking to yourself.” She peeked out from under the pillow. “I wasn’t talking.” Noah gave a half-smile, but she could tell that he didn’t believe her. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered near the scar, but didn’t touch it. “I just… I hate not knowing,” Luna whispered. Noah nodded slowly. “Me too.” She looked at him. “Do you think it means something?” He didn’t answer right away, looking like he’d aged thirty years. Luna whispered the question she was dreading. “Does Dad know?” Noah’s face hardened. “Let’s not worry about the past,” he said quietly. “He left 5 years ago.” He pulled the blanket up around her and whispered, “Get some sleep.” She didn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, her dreams full of scars and a hollow voice. “It’s your time to save.” She woke up with her face running with cold sweat, as she jolted upright. “It’s your time to save?” she whispered into the night. Luna paced her room for a while, needing to move. She recognized that voice. Where was it from? She collapsed on the floor shaking. Burying her face, she focused on breathing as the room spun around her. A hand. A wish. A prophecy. But why her? Why now? What was she trying to remember? She crawled back into bed, pulling her sheets up over her head. Just like she did when she was 3. But what she was hiding from, she didn’t know. Her thoughts? The "prophecy”? Herself? “No, no.” she whispered. Turning on her side, she slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep. The sky glowed bright again, like the sun was trying to outshine the moon. Luna winced, shielding her eyes from the light. She found an extra blanket draped over her. Noah must have checked in on her again. Wait, why did he check on her again? Suddenly, it all flowed back. Noah. The voice. The dream. The prophecy. She sat up and pulled the journal from under her pillow- Things I will have to deal with later: The “prophecy” The voice It being “my time to save” Why Noah won’t tell me everything She pursed her lips and wrote: -Dad. Then she shoved the journal back under the pillow. The kitchen was already warm and cozy, like a hug waiting to happen. Normally, she would’ve loved that. But nothing felt normal anymore. She was sure that she had shadows under her eyes, she hadn’t bothered to check. She touched her hair, sure that it looked like she just got in a bear fight. Sighing, she pulled it up. Noah stood by the stove making breakfast as she slumped in her chair. “Morning.” he said, offering a smile. She tried to grin back, but she was sure it looked more like a grimace. He sat down and gently pushed a plate in front of her. “Eat,” he ordered. She peered into her breakfast- pancakes, a drizzle of honey, a sprinkle of sugar. Her favorite. It was the kind of meal that screamed “Eat me!” Her stomach said otherwise. All her doubts and fears twisted in her stomach, not letting her make sense of them. “I’m… not hungry.” Luna lied. He nodded, picking up his own fork. She moved the pancakes around, the smell of the warm goo making her stomach turn and flip. “Noah?” He looked up at her, face full of questions. But there was also something else. Dread? “Why did Dad leave?” He clenched on his fork, “He just disappeared one day.” He gave a half smile. “Nothing worth worrying about.” Bitting her lip, she whispered the question that she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to. “Was it because of me?” Noah froze, dropping his fork. “No Luna, no.” He reached forward and squeezed her hand. “Nothing about this is your fault.” She tried to blink back the tears, but she could already feel the salty water drip down her cheeks. He let go of her hand, and sat down next to her. She buried her face in his shoulder, and the smell of rainwater and pine filled her nose, like the forest after it rained. It always made her feel safe inside, like everything was going to be okay. “Nothing about this is your fault.” He repeated, making her face him. “Please trust me.” She nodded, wiping her tear-filled eyes. But inside? She didn’t believe him. But she wouldn’t ask. Not now. Not yet.
