Laddie suddenly began coughing violently, and the wound in her chest burst into an ominous dark-red glow. Her body pitched forward, her green hair spreading out like ink splashed across water, while an ominous glimmer flickered over her body.
Only then did everyone snap out of their shock at being inexplicably transported here—and their embarrassment at being naked—and realize that one of their companions was seriously wounded.
"She can't hold on!" Catherine cried out, rushing forward to support Laddie.
Irene hurried over as well, biting her lip hard as the color drained from her face beneath her golden hair. Many years ago, she had left home for Arda and, alongside Laddie, become one of Paul's advisers. The two had shared a deep friendship, and seeing her closest friend in such a state filled her with unbearable anguish.
Paul did not hesitate. He immediately turned around and charged over, dropping heavily to one knee on the nonexistent ground. He took Laddie from Catherine and cradled her limp body in his arms, his palm coming directly into contact with the cold sweat seeping from her back.
Laddie trembled in his arms like a fallen leaf, bright-red blood foam spilling between her pale lips. The Witch opened her eyes wide and stared unblinkingly at Paul, as though she wanted to imprint the image of this man onto her soul in these final moments.
"Hold on!" Paul growled softly, using his fingers to brush aside the strands of hair stuck to her forehead by sweat. He could feel the temperature of the Witch in his arms fading away. Lines flickered across her body in turns, brightening and dimming like embers on the verge of going out.
Catherine's trembling hand pressed against Laddie's cooling fingertips. "Her life force is disintegrating..."
Tears burst from Irene's eyes