A shadowy figure loomed over Helena's unconscious form, its presence eerily still for several long minutes before it crouched. A delicate hand reached out, fingers brushing the blood on Helena's lips.
The figure whispered softly, its voice carrying both tenderness and sorrow, "Hel..."
Suddenly, a white light enveloped Helena, shimmering like a protective barrier. Her wounds began to close, the blood on her lips fading as her pallor improved.
"Is it... healing her?" Nightfire whispered, her voice barely audible. She and Aether peered cautiously from the corner, their breaths shallow as they watched the miraculous scene unfold.
Helena's body seemed to relax, her breathing steady.
Aether's eyes narrowed as he focused on the shadowy figure. Without hesitation, he darted forward.
"HMMFFF!" His hand shot out, gripping the figure's wrist in a blink. "Don't move!"
