The Sickened Luna's Last Chance novel Chapter 437

**TITLE: The Perfect 437**
**Chapter 437**

**Ella’s POV**

As the first rays of dawn crept through the nursery curtains, I stirred awake, the gentle light wrapping around me like a soft blanket. My neck throbbed, a dull ache from the awkward position I had taken while dozing beside Lucien’s crib. My arms felt stiff, a testament to the long hours spent in this precarious vigil. Nevertheless, I pushed myself upright, my heart racing with a mixture of hope and anxiety as I leaned over to check on my precious boy.

There he lay, still fragile, but I noted a subtle improvement. His cheeks, though still pale, bore a hint of color, a soft blush that had been absent the day before. The swelling in his face had diminished ever so slightly, and his breathing appeared less labored, more rhythmic. I reached out, my fingers brushing against his forehead, and found his skin warm, yet not feverish.

A wave of relief flooded through me. He was stable.

Yet, as if to counterbalance my fleeting joy, a sharp cramp twisted in my stomach, a harsh reminder that I had neglected my own needs for far too long. I couldn’t recall the last time I had indulged in a proper meal—was it over a day ago? The thought of leaving Lucien alone sent a pang of guilt through me, but I knew I had to nourish myself if I wanted to be of any use to him.

With careful movements, I stood, leaning over the crib to plant a soft, lingering kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be right back, my sweet boy,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. “Mama just needs to eat something.”

Lucien remained undisturbed, lost in his peaceful slumber.

I snatched the crystal from the dresser, unwilling to leave it unattended, and made my way downstairs. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavy in the air. A few guards stood at their posts, their expressions respectful as I walked past, but the emptiness of the place was palpable, echoing the turmoil in my heart.

Upon entering the kitchen, I found Alexander slumped at the table, a cold cup of coffee sitting neglected before him. His posture spoke volumes; his elbows rested heavily on the table, his head buried in his hands. When he finally lifted his gaze to meet mine, I was struck by the toll that sleeplessness had taken on him. Dark circles framed his eyes, his hair was unkempt, and his clothes hung on him like a forgotten afterthought, wrinkled and stained.

He looked as though he had been haunted by his thoughts all night.

But first, I had to tend to my own needs.

Turning to the counter, I grabbed some bread, tossing it into the toaster. The familiar sound of it popping up brought a fleeting sense of normalcy. I slathered the toasted bread with butter and jelly, craving something to fill the emptiness in my belly. Normally, this sweet treat would have delighted me, but now it felt like dry sawdust in my mouth, and the coffee I washed it down with was bitter and sharp, a stark contrast to the comfort I sought. Yet, I forced myself to finish, knowing I needed the strength to keep moving forward.

“So, how do we use it?” Alexander asked, his eyes fixated on the crystal resting on the counter, a glimmer of determination in his gaze. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my heart sinking. “Anya’s mother mentioned that only a powerful witch could wield it. But we don’t have a powerful witch in our midst.”

“I’m sure we can figure it out ourselves,” he replied, his voice filled with a spark of hope as he picked up the crystal, turning it over in his hands as if searching for hidden answers. “There has to be a way.”

The next hour was spent in a whirlwind of ideas and attempts, each one more desperate than the last. Alexander held the crystal, his brow furrowed in concentration, willing it to respond to his thoughts, to do something—anything. But it remained stubbornly unyielding. I joined him, closing my eyes and summoning every ounce of energy I could muster, channeling thoughts of cleansing light, invoking the presence of the Moon Goddess herself, praying for a sign.