The Sickened Luna's Last Chance novel Chapter 321

“Have you ever heard any stories about our ancestors? Particularly anything involving…” I hesitated, then forced myself to continue, “black magic. Necromancy.”

The color drained from my mother’s face. “What brought this on?”

I told her about my visit with Liam and the witch. When I was finished, Lilith looked equal parts chagrined and intrigued.

“You should be more careful, you know,” she chided first. “You don’t want to condemn innocent people, Ella.”

“I know.” I passed my hands over my face. I recalled the witch alluding to having some kind of firsthand knowledge of the curse–almost as if she’d been affected by rebirth herself. But I hadn’t had a chance to ask before she’d left, and maybe I was imagining it anyway.

“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever heard of our ancestors being involved in such things,” Lilith said after a moment. She considered briefly, then admitted, “Although, now I am intrigued. Have you considered visiting the Stormhollow archives?”

I perked up a little at that. Every pack kept records of all the prominent families in the territory. Birth certificates, death records, family trees, property deeds. If any of my ancestors were involved in anything, anything at all, then it would likely be documented there.

At least, I hoped it would be. My father also held a collection of archives in the manor, which was now nothing but ash.

But I hadn’t set foot in that territory since the fire, since my death and rebirth. The thought of going back there made my stomach flip, and yet… If there was even a chance of finding information about the artifacts there…

“I’ll go as soon as I can,” I said, standing. “What’s the harm, right?”

Lilith didn’t answer that.

Two days later, on my day off, I found myself standing at the entrance to the Stormhollow territorial library. The building was old and imposing, made of gray stone, with menacing–looking gargoyles perched on the roof that looked even more frightening in the bleak, stormy weather. I wrapped my cardigan tighter around myself and rushed inside to escape the wind and rain.

The research room was quiet and warm and blissfully empty; it seemed the rain had kept everyone away today. I started with the most recent records and worked my way backward, searching for any mention of unusual deaths in the pack, mysterious circumstances, or anything that might hint at dark magic being used in the territory.

Hours passed. I found birth certificates, marriage licenses, property transfers, and death records dating back over two hundred years. But nothing unusual. Nothing that suggested any of my ancestors had been involved in dark magic or necromancy.

By late afternoon, I’d exhausted every lead I could find. The archives staff were starting to close up for the day, and I’d gotten nowhere. The hope that had been building since my conversation with Julie was crumbling, leaving behind the familiar feeling of despair.

1/3

Liam was going to die. I was going to remain cursed forever. And there was nothing I could do about it.

I gathered up the documents I’d been reviewing and put them on the cart of items to be reshelved, then made my way back outside. The rain had only worsened during my time inside, and I put my head down, rushing across the parking lot.

I didn’t see the person in front of me until I slammed right into them.

“Why, I never!”

The familiar voice made my blood run cold. Breath catching, I snapped my head up to find myself face to face with one of the last people I ever wanted to see.

Margaret. My stepmother.

Before I could rush away, she tilted her head and studied me through the rain. The flicker of recognition in her eyes made me involuntarily take a step back, fear coursing through me.

“Do I know you?” she asked.