Crescent Moon didn't fall. They had been expecting heavy damage, buildings collapsing, structures crumbling from the underground detonation.
After the bomb that collapsed Alyannah's lair, the territory trembled but it didn't break. There were a few shattered windows, but no structural damage to speak of.
As they returned home, something quiet had taken root. Not silence born of fear, they had been dealing with that for so long it was almost hard to grasp silence that held nothing but peace.
And into that peace, a sacred night arrived. Jax's seventeenth birthday.
There was no grand feast. No fireworks. Not this time. Not after war and loss and sacrifice. But Crescent Moon had always honored more than survival.
Tonight, they would celebrate transcendence.
