The Sickened Luna's Last Chance novel Chapter 393

**The Perfect 393**

**Chapter 393**

**Ella’s POV**

As I slowly opened my eyes, an overwhelming sense of confusion enveloped me. I found myself in a place that felt utterly alien, a world that bore no resemblance to the one I had known. The air was thick with an unsettling darkness, and yet, it resonated with an eerie cacophony—distant screams echoed like the wails of lost souls, and thunder rolled ominously in the background.

I stood precariously at the edge of a towering cliff, gazing down into an abyss of impenetrable blackness that stretched endlessly before me.

A churning, tumultuous ocean of… souls.

The sight struck me with a jolt of recognition. As I peered into that swirling mass of forlorn spirits and anguished cries, a wave of realization washed over me. This place—how could I have forgotten? I had been here once before, even if only for a fleeting moment. A void so profound, filled with sorrow and despair, where the remnants of our shattered souls lingered when we hesitated to cross over to the other side.

I had stood here before.

When I was reborn.

In that moment, it all came rushing back, a torrent of memories I had buried deep within. The transition had been so swift that I hadn’t grasped its significance then, but now, clarity pierced through the fog of my mind. I remembered the choice I had faced, the blinding light beckoning me from the other side of the cliff—a light that shimmered like a lighthouse on a foggy night, guiding lost ships to safety.

I recalled the moment I had stood at the very edge, my arms outstretched, ready to let go and…

Fall.

But wait. No, I hadn’t merely fallen, had I? I had been thrust into this abyss.

The memories surged within me, sharp and painful, like daggers stabbing at my heart. I could almost feel the chilling grip of unseen hands pushing against my back, urging me toward the precipice. Gasping, I stumbled backward, desperate to distance myself from the edge, from that haunting cliff.

I should have joined the legion of souls when I leapt from that cliff before. But I hadn’t. The curse that bound me had kept me from stepping into the light, yet it had also prevented me from plummeting into that dark ocean. Just moments before I would have met the surface, I had awakened in a new body, my memories stripped away.

But now, all those memories flooded back, and the weight of my understanding settled heavily upon me.

Death had ushered me here first, but it was Margaret who had brought me back. This time, however, I sensed that the curse would not drag me back to the realm of the living. No, it couldn’t… because something vital was missing from me this time.

A hollow ache resonated deep within, as if a piece of my very essence had been severed and cast into the depths below.

I could feel that missing fragment of myself within the tumultuous sea of souls, calling out to me in a voice that was unmistakably my own. I pressed a trembling hand against my chest, feeling the emptiness there. My soul—half of it was lost in that dark ocean. If I didn’t leap down to retrieve it, I would be forever barred from returning to the world of the living.

I would never see Lucien again. Or Alexander. Or Liam. Or Anya. Not even my mother…

The mere thought sent a chill of dread coursing through me. What if I dove into that abyss and never resurfaced? What if I became ensnared in this realm, endlessly searching for the other half of my soul?

But deep down, I understood that if I didn’t attempt to reclaim what was mine, I would remain trapped here, wasting away on this cliffside while my essence drifted into oblivion.

With a determined breath, I took the plunge. This time, no icy hands propelled me forward. No invisible tether yanked me back to the realm of the living.

I swam toward it, driven by an instinct I couldn’t ignore. Ahead, through the murky green depths of lost souls, I glimpsed her. Me. She swam through the throng, her silver eyes staring back at me, vacant yet knowing. She reached for me, and I grasped her icy hands. A jolt of cold surged through me, reminiscent of the depths of winter, but instead of shivering, I felt an unexpected comfort.

“You will lose Liam tonight,” she murmured, drawing me closer until we were locked in an embrace. Her lips brushed against my ear, chilling yet oddly reassuring. “But if you sacrifice something precious when the time comes, you can bring him back.”

The meaning behind her words eluded me, floating just out of reach, like a distant star in the night sky—an insignificant threat, perhaps, but one that lingered in the back of my mind.

“Now go,” she whispered, pulling me ever closer until her essence slipped into mine, a wave of coldness spreading through every limb, every sinew, every atom of my being. “You will forget for now, but remember when the time is right…”

I had no chance to voice my questions, nor did I truly want to. A strange sense of acceptance enveloped me in this realm; the thought of seeking further answers felt trivial in the grand scheme of things.

Perhaps it was because, deep within, I knew she would guide me when the moment arrived. I was merely a passenger on this journey.

After all, I had always been the lost half of the soul. She had been the one searching for me.

When my eyes fluttered open once more, I found myself standing in the guest room of the Oxford estate. The knife was still gripped tightly in my hands, its blade now buried deep within a chest. The room lay cloaked in silence, save for the faint sound of a single, sputtering cough.

I looked up, trembling, dreading what I would see at the other end of the blade. But it wasn’t Alexander who lay before me.

It was Margaret—the very person I had just plunged the knife into.

It was Margaret who I had just killed.