The second moon is a giant lens. Eclipsing the Sun, it sears canyons into Earth’s crust. Eclipsing the Moon, we can see our footsteps.

It struggled, oh it did. Left swathes of land in eternal dusk, created a sea of darkness as it bled out. But this was it: The last eclipse.

But his ambition was not sated. He brooded. Planned. Consulted astronomical tables. Waited. And then it came: Solar eclipse. Moon’s shadow.

Masks orbit and obscure his head. One eclipses his face and stays in place: a smile, currently. Only his eyes shine through in bright red.

A glance up to your room’s light: The marbles orbiting your head align to eclipse it and the moths stand out against the shadows.

Moondust ink, by the way, is white during gibbous/full moon, transparent during crescent/new moon, and glows in a deep red during eclipses.