The air around the castle was cold, guards were stationed at their posts, and the moon was shining like never before. But despite its brightness, it couldn't brighten the lives of those within the palace.
In the eastern wing of the western tower, Theron sat with Mason and Cyrus before him.
"What is this cure?" Theron asked, his fingers drumming on the table.
Cyrus swallowed hard. "Wolfbane."
"Are you mad… or do you want him dead?" Theron roared, but Cyrus sat up straight.
"And if it's wolfbane, why does it come with a condition? For heaven's sake, we can get that in the hidden storage room," Theron added.
Cyrus turned to Mason, his eyes pleading for help. He was exhausted, barely sleeping, and his eyes hurt from reading too much.
"Wolfbane is the cure, but unlike the others, this one is special," Mason murmured.
Theron's brows ached, and his lips pressed together. "What's different?" he asked.
