"Someone lend Amael a hand!" Victor called out as he confronted Manuel.
No, assistance wasn't something I sought.
"I'll handle it..." Celeste hurried towards me, kneeling with urgency. She extracted vials and began tending to my wounds.
Her head hung low, yet the tremors coursing through her were palpable. Even her healing touch betrayed an unsteady rhythm, and her breaths came in ragged waves.
"How have you been, dear Celes?" Manuel's voice rang out amidst the clash of blades between him and Victor.
Celeste flinched at his voice, clearly haunted by the memories his voice stirred.
It must be a chilling echo for her.
"I'm alright," I halted her cold hand.
"Ah, yes, and... thank you for saving me," Celeste managed a smile, noticeably different from her usual expressions.
I rose to my feet, glancing at John, who was still locked in combat with the unknown adversary.
