Chapter 5 - THE PURIFICATION RITUAL
"To pull the wolfsbane out of his bone marrow," Abigail explained as they stood in the private royal greenhouse two hours later, "we need the root of a Moon-Lily. It only blooms under the full moon on the highest peak of Obsidian Ridge."
Lawson looked up through the glass dome of the greenhouse. "Tonight is the full moon."
"Yes," Abigail nodded, picking several fresh mint leaves from a stone planter. "But the peak is dangerous. The air is toxic to wolves when the Moon-Lily releases its pollen. Only someone with an immunity to high-altitude spores can harvest it."
"I will go," Lawson said instantly.
"You can't," Abigail insisted, looking him dead in the eye. "An Alpha wolf’s lungs are hyper-sensitive to Moon-Lily pollen. It will paralyze your shift. I have to go."
"I am not letting you go up that mountain alone," Lawson growled, stepping into her space. "Seraphina’s agents are watching every move we make. If you leave the fortress walls, they will kill you."
"Then send your most trusted warriors to guard the perimeter," Abigail said calmly. "I will climb the peak, harvest the root, and bring it back before midnight. It is the only way to save Finn’s life."
Lawson stared at her, his protective instincts screaming against letting her out of his sight. Over the past twenty-four hours, this quiet, resilient woman had become the center of his world—the only person he trusted with his son's life.
"I will accompany you to the base of the peak with my personal squad," Lawson compromised, his voice leave-no-room-for-argument firm. "And my second-in-command, Beta Gideon, will guard Finn’s nursery with twenty royal elite guards. No one enters that room until we return."
"Agreed," Abigail smiled softly.
By ten o'clock that night, the full moon hung high in the ink-black sky, casting a silver glow over the snow-capped mountains of Obsidian Ridge.
Lawson, clad in black armor, led a squad of ten elite guards up the steep stone trail, with Abigail walking closely beside him, wrapped in a thick fur cloak.
The air grew bitterly cold as they ascended, the wind howling through the mountain passes like wounded wolves.
"We are approaching the outer boundary," Lawson called out over the wind, stopping near a narrow stone archway that led to the summit peak.
Abigail pulled a leather satchel over her shoulder and grabbed a pair of brass shears.
"Stay here, Lawson," she warned. "Do not step past the archway. The pollen is already drifting down."
Lawson grabbed her sleeve, pulling her back before she could step onto the open peak. His golden eyes burned with an intense, desperate light.
"If you are not back down this path in twenty minutes," Lawson growled, "I am coming up there, pollen or no pollen."
Abigail looked at his massive hand holding her arm, feeling the heat of his skin through her heavy cloak.
"I will be back, Lawson," she promised softly, using his name without his title for the first time. "Trust me."
He released her slowly.
Abigail stepped past the stone archway into the swirling silver fog of the summit.
The peak was covered in glowing white flowers—the Moon-Lilies. Their sweet, heavy scent filled the freezing air, thick enough to make her head spin.
Abigail dropped to her knees beside the largest cluster of flowers, plunging her small silver shovel into the frozen soil, digging furiously for the deep, purple root.
Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the fog.
Abigail froze.
From the shadows of the rock formations surrounding the peak, three tall figures emerged, clad in dark cloaks, their eyes glowing with yellow rogue energy.
"Well, well," one of the figures hissed, drawing a silver blade. "Lady Seraphina said someone would come up here for the flower."
Abigail slowly stood up, holding her brass shears tight in her right hand, hiding the harvested purple root in her pocket.
"Seraphina sent you to die," Abigail said coldly, her voice echoing over the roaring wind.
The rogue chuckled. "To die? You're an unarmed maid, girl. Who’s going to save you up here?"
Abigail smiled—a sharp, deadly expression that made the rogue pause.
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"You forgot one thing," Abigail whispered.
She reached into her satchel, pulled out a handful of crushed Moon-Lily pollen dust, and blew it straight into the wind toward them.
