"Alvara…?"
Celeste's voice came out quieter than she intended—thin with shock, disbelief, and a touch of exhaustion.
"A–Are you okay?"
A small voice piped up from behind her then—soft, unsure. The little boy clutching her dress stuttered slightly, his eyes wide and glistening with worry.
Celeste offered him a weak smile—barely there, more instinct than comfort—and gave a small nod.
The massive blood spike pierced clean through her abdomen but before anyone could panic, frost spread across its surface in a crystalline snap. Ice sealed the wound. The pain didn't disappear, but the bleeding stopped. That alone would keep her standing.
"As always…" Alvara said, her pale golden eyes slid toward Celeste. "You manage to look so pathetically miserable."
If Celeste had the energy, maybe she would've scoffed. She didn't.
"What are you doing here…?" She asked clearly not expecting Alvara out of everyone here.
