The Sickened Luna's Last Chance novel Chapter 367

**TITLE: The Perfect 367**

As I stood there, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer joy radiating from Anya as she meticulously crafted her wedding dress. The sight was nothing short of enchanting. Her fingers moved with a graceful dexterity, weaving the fabric into something beautiful, each stitch a testament to her renewed spirit. Just days prior, the wedding planner had delivered a crushing blow, declaring that Anya was incapable of making her own gown. It was as if someone had extinguished a vibrant flame, leaving her spirit dull and defeated. But now, the light in her eyes had returned, and it was contagious.

Yet, amidst this blossoming happiness, a troubling thought nagged at the corners of my mind: how could I ever hope to repay her for all the sacrifices she was making? The time she was dedicating to my plight, the unwavering support she offered—how could I ever convey my gratitude adequately?

Then, like a flash of inspiration, it hit me. The only true way to honor her efforts would be to break the accursed spell that hung over us like a heavy shroud. If I could just find a way to lift it, we could finally revel in the joy of the wedding without the looming dread that had plagued us for far too long. More importantly, I needed to unburden myself and share everything—the truths I had kept hidden, the secrets that weighed heavily on my heart. I wanted Anya to know that she had done far more than simply plan a wedding; she had reignited my hope.

I clung to the hope that lifting the curse was not beyond my reach. Perhaps Julie would discover Margaret, and together they would unravel the tangled threads that bound us in this dark fate.

Later that evening, I found myself slipping into Alexander’s room, a sanctuary we had established amidst the chaos of our lives. He lay comfortably in bed, and as I entered, he lifted the covers with an inviting smile, a familiar gesture that warmed my heart.

I nestled beside him, the warmth emanating from his body enveloping me like a comforting embrace.

“So, what did the doctor say?” I inquired, breaking the silence that had settled around us as he wrapped the blankets snugly around us.

“I’m starting a course of antibiotics,” he replied, his voice calm and soothing. He turned to face me, pulling me closer, his chin resting gently against the curve of my neck. “The symptoms aren’t too serious yet.”

“Good. That’s really good,” I responded, a flicker of relief washing over me at his words. Perhaps this illness would progress slowly, granting us the precious time we needed to locate and destroy the artifacts before the curse could claim him. Before it could take Liam, too.

Just as I began to relax in the cocoon of our shared warmth, Alexander opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could utter a word, a blood-curdling scream shattered the stillness of the night.

We both bolted upright in bed, our eyes wide with shock. I recognized that scream instantly; it was Anya. Her voice cut through the air like a siren’s wail, unmistakable and filled with terror.

Without a moment’s hesitation, we sprang from the bed, propelled by instinct towards the source of the sound. Anya’s screams echoed through the house, drawing the attention of other staff members who emerged from their rooms, confusion etched across their faces. It seemed that no one cared to question why Alexander and I were together at such an hour.

As we burst into Anya’s room, my breath caught in my throat at the chaotic scene that unfolded before me. Anya was huddled in the corner, throwing herself into my arms, her body trembling with fear as she pointed a shaky finger at the figure standing defiantly in the center of the room, cloaked in black from head to toe.

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