The sky was still alive with echoes of howls when the crowd began to thin. Pack members drifted back toward Crescent Moon's main courtyard, buzzing with awe, pride, and more than a little superstition.
The Emissaries had vanished as silently as they'd come, leaving only the shimmering residue of their presence in the clearing.
But Jax wasn't ready to return. Not yet.
He lingered by the sacred stones, where the moss was cool and the sun that filtered through the trees warmed him.
Nyla sat a few paces away on a smooth boulder, her knees drawn up to her chest. She wore a simple shift of soft white fabric now. A golden tattoo on her arm glowed, left by the veil as if marking her with a signature.
She looked up as he approached, her eyes catching the sunlight like mirrors.
"You feel different," she said softly.
Jax smiled, sitting beside her. "You do too."
