Sophia’s heart sank, her hope faltering as the healer’s words struck like a blow. Her grip on Matthew’s cold hand tightened, her eyes pleading for any sign of life. As her tears fell onto Matthew’s still form, the air seemed to thicken with her despair.
Just then, a powerful presence filled the room, and the eldest healer witch, a figure of commanding presence and ancient power, arrived. Her entrance was marked by an almost palpable aura of authority and wisdom. She moved with a grace that belied her age, her eyes sharp and discerning as they fell upon Matthew.
Without a word, the elder witch began a series of intricate incantations, her voice weaving through the air in a melodic, ancient tongue. A soft, ethereal glow began to envelop Matthew’s body, casting a warm light that danced and flickered around him. The room was filled with a palpable sense of magic, the air humming with the power of the incantation.