The moon hung heavy in the sky above Crescent Moon, casting silver light across the mountaintop and bathing the clearing in its quiet glow. From the sacred stones to the edge of the trees, everything shimmered, bathed in ethereal moonlight.
Jax stood at the top of the ridge, just beyond the ceremonial circle, his eyes scanning the forest below.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
Nyla stood beside him, barefoot, her dark hair flowing down her back, wearing a blue wrap sweater against the chilly autumn air. They hadn't spoken much since the trial ended. There hadn't been time.
The emissaries, the declarations, the truce—it had all moved so fast. But now, in the quiet after everything, the weight of what came next settled over them like the first deep snow of winter.
"You can feel it, can't you?" Nyla said quietly, not looking at him.
Jax nodded. "Everything's changing."
She glanced at him, the corner of her mouth tugging upward. "Not everything."
