The Sickened Luna's Last Chance novel Chapter 412

**TITLE: The Perfect 412**

“Take a look at this.” Liam beckoned me over with an eager wave of his hand, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he held up a large, time-worn tome, its pages a faded yellow that hinted at centuries of history. He pointed to a particular section, and I could sense the thrill in his voice as he spoke. “It seems there was an expedition back in the early eighteenth century to retrieve something called the Viridian Crystal.”

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, curiosity piquing my interest. Leaning closer, I scanned the page, my heart racing as I absorbed the details. There it was, a record of an expedition that had set sail over three hundred years ago, led by a traveling merchant named Alistaire Atwood. The man had been convinced that the Viridian Crystal held the key to immense wealth and power for whoever possessed it. Despite the ridicule he faced for his audacious claims, Alistaire remained steadfast in his belief that the crystal was hidden away in a secret location, and he had gathered a crew, eager for adventure, to embark on this perilous journey.

“What ultimately happened to the expedition?” I inquired, my eyes darting up to meet Liam’s, my mind racing with possibilities.

“That’s where things take a dark turn.” Liam flipped to the next page, his finger tracing the heading that read, “The Crew’s Disappearance.”

“Alistaire and his entire crew vanished without a trace,” he explained, his brow furrowing in concentration as he absorbed the gravity of the words. “They simply… poofed into thin air. Despite numerous searches and investigations, no one ever found them.” He turned to the following page, his expression growing more serious. “But look here—the entry detailing the possible location of the crystal has been torn out.”

I stared at the book in disbelief, my heart sinking as I quickly confirmed Liam’s observation. The section about Alistaire had been deliberately mutilated; remnants of torn pages clung stubbornly to the binding, as if the book itself were mourning the loss of its secrets.

“Strange. Do you think someone removed this information on purpose?” I asked, glancing back at Liam, my mind racing with the implications.

He snapped the book shut, a frown etched across his features. “I can’t say for sure. We should ask the librarian for her insight.”

Time was slipping away from us, so we made our way back to the librarian’s desk, the air thick with anticipation. Liam placed the book before her, opening it to the missing section, his voice steady but urgent. “Was this removed intentionally? Perhaps for preservation?”

The librarian’s eyes widened in alarm, her expression shifting from curiosity to indignation. “Certainly not!” she exclaimed, rising from her chair and running her fingers over the jagged edges of the torn pages, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “Our restoration team would never treat damaged pages so carelessly. This must have been done by a patron.”

Liam and I exchanged a knowing glance, the weight of suspicion hanging heavily in the air. “Who was the last patron to check this book out?” I blurted out, a sinking feeling in my stomach as I spoke, as if I already knew the answer.

He scoffed, the sound filled with disdain. “You come here, after killing my wife, and expect to rummage through her things?” His lip curled in disgust as he forcefully kicked my foot out of the way. “Get out.”

“Wait!” I cried, my voice rising in urgency. “I’m only looking for some pages from a book. Please, it could be a matter of life or death—Dad!”

But my pleas fell on deaf ears. My father slammed the door shut with a finality that echoed in my chest, the sound of the lock clicking into place reverberating in my mind. No matter how hard I banged on the door, he never returned to confront me. Finally, Liam placed a comforting hand on my arm, his sympathetic gaze conveying all the words he didn’t say as he shook his head in disappointment.

My shoulders sagged in defeat, a wave of resignation washing over me. I should have known better than to expect my father to help me.

He always had refused, after all.