The moon ascended over Crescent Moon, swollen with silver light that touched every leaf like a whisper from the divine. The woods shimmered under its gaze, alive with unseen things—old things—that stirred in the spaces between breath and heartbeat.
Lily stood barefoot among the sacred stones, her toes sinking into the cool moss. Her heart pounded like thunder in her chest. Something was happening. Something ancient and unstoppable, like the tide or death or birth. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as the wind kissed her skin.
Her body ached, not with sickness or fear, but with awakening. She could feel it crawling under her ribs, spiraling down her spine, pulsing in the blood behind her eyes. It was more than anticipation. It was inevitability.
Murphy had told her it would feel like this. Jax too. But no one could prepare her for the moment the world cracked open and her soul stepped forward. No one could have prepared the world, either.
