Footsteps echoed through the pavilion, Emma bursting through the entrance, her eyes frantically searching, and the spirit gently turned, cradling its new master's unconscious form, ready to deliver the Sword Saint safely back to the companions he had bled and nearly died to save.
"Move away from him!" Emma shouted, her daggers flashing as she rushed at the spirit, fear for Alaric's life driving her forward, the sight of the spirit holding Alaric's limp body blinding her sight.
She struck without hesitation, her blades aimed to kill.
But the spirit didn't retaliate. It simply raised one hand and caught her wrist mid-strike, halting the dagger a hair from its face, its grip firm but entirely without malice.
"Calm yourself," the spirit said, its voice carrying none of the arrogance it had moments ago. "I mean him no harm. I'm with you now."
Emma froze, her chest heaving, her eyes darting between the spirit's calm face and Alaric's unconscious body cradled so carefully in its arms.
