“Can you imagine what it’s like to be a child with moth magic in sparkly, whimsical Rockpool Bay?” said Obscura. “To be a child who whispers to bugs in a place full of enchanted ice cream and charmed candy and grocery stores full of flowers?”

As she moved away from the projector, her shadow began to shrink; her arms and legs grew shorter until she was the same size as the shadow boy. “The people in this town only value one brand of magic: it’s happy and fluffy and saccharine sweet. Anybody who doesn’t fit that brand is a freak. Even my own parents found my abilities unsettling.”

There was an element of truth to Obscura’s words, Maren thought. The cheerful magic definitely got more attention and community support. She couldn’t think of any other business besides the dream shop that traded in darker areas of magic. And their nightmare dealings were always done very quietly, never advertised to tourists like everything else.

“And then my brother gave me that nightmare,” said Obscura.

On-screen, a huge snake appeared, rearing up and opening its jaws, and little shadow Obscura shrank back, cowering. As the serpent grabbed her foot and began to swallow, the boy puppet laughed, clutching his stomach with glee.

“My brother thought it was hilarious. He told his friends, and they helped him continue the prank in my waking life, too. Soon the whole school was in on it.” She let out a disgusted huff. “This town may look sugary sweet, but underneath that candy coating, it’s rotten.”

The shadow snake swallowed, gulping down the girl’s leg. More child-sized puppets appeared beside the brother, pointing and jeering.

“I begged my mother to let me transfer to a different school.” Obscura’s voice went low and flat. “But she was too busy to drive me.”

Maren remembered begging her own mother to let her transfer to a new school. She knew exactly how it felt to have kids whispering about her, laughing at her. Some days, it took all of her strength not to run out of school and never stop running. As much as she didn’t want to, Maren felt a little bit bad for Obscura.

“By the end of sixth grade, I didn’t have a single friend left,” said Obscura. “Only my winged beauties stayed.”

A dancing flock of shadow moths circled Obscura’s head, dipping in to kiss her cheeks and perch on her shoulders. The little puppet girl grew taller. Thinner. Sharper. Her hands curled into claws.