Desmond's once warm gaze turned frigid, his expression becoming a mask of stoicism as he locked eyes with the struggling Laura. "Don't make a move," he commanded, his voice carrying an air of authority, while a surge of energy coursed through him, ready to be unleashed.
The natural energy within the room responded to Desmond's command, swirling and converging upon a vacant point in the air between him and Laura. Gradually, an ethereal hand materialized, its immense form seeming to envelop Laura's body, suspending her in mid-air before gently placing her on the bed. The warmth emanating from the magical healing filled her senses, offering solace and relief.
A pained smile froze upon Laura's face as her tear-filled eyes locked onto her young master's gaze. "I'm sorry, young master," she murmured, her voice tinged with remorse. Despite her injuries, she couldn't help but feel like a burden to him, her carelessness causing trouble.
