The fall of Ixtal was celebrated throughout the Righteous Faction like it was the greatest event any righteous citizen had witnessed in their lifetime, as in every town square, market street and orbital boulevard the same scenes replayed: universal government banners unfurled, choirs singing paeans of purification, and children being lifted on shoulders like trophies of a war finally won.
Victory processions rolled through provinces like a cleansing tide, floats bearing sculpted suns and faces of the Great Gods glinting under the morning sky, while holoscreens looped footage of the bombardment of Ixtal until even the most mundane cafe terrace seemed like a shrine to the day's triumph.
Commoners stood in knots along the avenues, their conversations quick and hot as newly kindled coals, the words spilling with a raw certainty that the Cult had been erased for good.
