Luna's sixteenth birthday cake exploded into a blinding burst of silver light.
The sound was like glass shattering inside the universe itself—sharp, echoing, impossible. For a split second, Emma thought the oven had blown up, but then she realized the light wasn't fading. Instead, it stretched, spilled, and thickened until the entire kitchen was drenched in shimmering brilliance.
"What the—" Emma began, but her words were stolen from her lips as the room transformed into something unreal. The air itself shifted, dense and alive, filling with thousands of glittering fragments. They weren't sparks. They weren't dust. They were stars—tiny, radiant stars—spinning lazily like newborn suns, their warmth brushing against the family's skin.
Emma clutched the counter, heart pounding. She could smell sugar and smoke from the ruined cake, mingling strangely with the metallic tang of cosmic energy.
